“How soon can I start?”
“What time can you be here tomorrow? The holiday season should be getting busy with family coming into town. They all get bored staying home, so I’m going to do a little advertising for some karaoke and a couple local bands. Anything to draw in a crowd. The bigger the crowd, the more you’ll take home in your pocket at the end of the night.”
That sounded so good. All this job had to do was get her over the rough patch until Dennis was found, signed the divorce papers and then went away for a long time.
Maybe once that all happened, she could get her life back on track. Until then, she could suck it up and serve some beer with a smile.
The last couple of days had dragged on way too fucking long. Judge spent time in the office during the day running the normal operations of Justice Bail Bonds while Deke sat on the Douglas house. At night, they’d switch. Deke would take the dogs back to The Barn and Judge would watch for Lange all night.
He missed his fucking bed. He missed sleep.
And he was getting crankier by the fucking second.
He needed to talk to Trip about using the two remaining prospects to help sit on the house. Even though they were in training at the pet crematorium, they should be the ones working long-ass hours instead of him. And anyway, he was fucking older. Sleep was important.
Those two prospects were both at the age where they could still party all night. Judge now struggled to party half a night.
He grunted.
Fuck, he was bored as hell doing a “stakeout,” looking for Cassidy Lange’s husband to pop his head up like a weasel.
Judge would gladly be the fucking mallet.
Easy and Shady wouldn’t be able take the man into custody, but Deke or Judge were only a text or call away. And he’d have to remind Shady not to slice the fucker’s throat first like he did up on the mountain to every inbred he stumbled upon when they were rescuing Autumn.
Judge wondered what the fuck was going on in that long-haired fucker’s head.
He shook his own.
He knew why Trip, Sig, Rook, and Cage were the way they were. But Shady? He had no idea what his past entailed. And Judge didn’t like that.
The rest of the members were pretty much an open book. That man, not so much.
Probably better not to know.
But those lower-than-dog-shit prospects could sit in a vehicle and keep an eye on the house because Judge’s eyes were getting fucking blurry.
He tipped his head back against his seat and sighed. Patience was not his strong-suit and sitting in his Expedition for hours sucked. This was why he usually handed off the skip-tracing and bail-jumpers to Deke. His cousin had a lot more patience than him.
He simply needed to keep that twenty percent in mind. More scratch in his and Deke’s pocket. That was the ultimate goal in all this.
Not getting a piece of Cassie Lange.
Though, she was a piece of pie he’d like to taste.
His eyes tipped down to Jury, who was curled up contently on the passenger seat. He usually didn’t bring her along, but he’d said fuck it tonight. He was missing his girl. He reached out and rubbed her warm ears, drawing a low groan from her, but she didn’t even bother to open her eyes.
Getting her was the best fucking decision ever.
With another sigh, he glanced up and his spine shot straight. Cassidy Lange wasn’t slinking out the front door this time. No, she strutted right out. Not one tear running down her cheek in sight. No PJ bottoms or slippers, either. The only thing he could see under that coat was jeans and some sort of boots with a slight heel.
She didn’t need much because the woman was fucking tall.
Which he liked.
A lot.
Just as much as the width of her hips.
He had also noticed the other day in the empty lot—because he made sure to look—she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Which he found curious.
He figured most married women liked to wear them.
His wife had.
Until she threw it at him. Along with a shitload of other things.
Mostly because he’d been a dumb fuck and deserved it.
But it wasn’t his ex-wife climbing into that piece-of-shit Honda. She was someone else’s.
At five-thirty in December, darkness closed in quickly, which made it easier for him to remain undetected where he was parked down the street. When she pulled away from the curb, so did he, again keeping a good distance.
This time she didn’t get lost. Fuck no. This time, with what looked like confidence, she turned down the alley that ran parallel to Third Street. He pulled past it, turned onto Third, drove past Crazy Pete’s, hooked a left and slowly drove past the alley again. But she was gone.
What the fuck?
He checked the rearview mirror, and, when he saw it was clear, he slammed on the brakes, shoved the Ford into reverse and shot backward until he once again was at the end of the alley.
He turned left and took a slow crawl along the narrow passageway between the buildings. There it was. The Honda. Parked behind Crazy Pete’s.
His brow dropped low. What the fuck?
Why the hell would she park behind Crazy Pete’s where Dodge, Trip and Stella parked? Why wouldn’t she park out on the street like the rest of the customers?
And why was she going into Pete’s anyway? Was she meeting Lange there?
“Fuck,” he muttered and spun stones as he sped out of the alley and looked for a place to park on the street, which wasn’t easy since it was a busy Friday evening.
Good for the bar and the Fury’s coffers, not so great for Judge.
Once he found a spot, he strode with Jury by his side down the sidewalk toward Crazy Pete’s. Stella never cared when he brought in one or both dogs. And the dogs loved it since they ended up being fed popcorn and other shit by the patrons. Plus, there were plenty of pats and ear scratches to go around.
No one had ever complained and if someone did? Fuck them. They could take it up with Judge.
He paused outside the door, wondering if maybe he should just sit and keep watch instead of blowing through the door like 5-0 on a no-knock warrant. He released the handle and stared down at Jury who stared back at him, giving him a slow tail wag.
Yeah, his girl knew when he was being dumb. She liked to remind him.
“Goddamn it,” he muttered. He jerked his head toward the Ford. “C’mon, girl. Almost rushed in there like a fuckin’ bull on crack.”
Then Cassie would really wonder if he was stalking her. And maybe even warn Lange. Judge knew better than to keep blowing his tail.
With another curse, he strode back down the sidewalk and opened the passenger door for Jury to jump in. Then he climbed into the driver’s side and pulled out his phone.
He texted Dodge, which was a way better plan. A blonde just walk in?
It took about five minutes before he responded, since Judge guessed he was busting his ass slinging drinks big time with how many cars were parked on the street.
Yeah, was the prospect’s answer.
Tall n curvy?
Hard 2 miss those fckn curves.
Judge’s jaw got tight. She in there meetn any1?
Not yet. Soon.
What the fuck did that mean? Keep an eye on her.
Not gonna B a prob.
Judge always texted slowly because of his big fingers. And sometimes he didn’t have the patience for it and would call instead. But he also didn’t want Dodge answering him out loud inside the bar where Cassie might hear him. Lemme know if she meets up w/ a man.
It took a few more minutes for Dodge to respond. Prolly gonna meet a lotta fckn men here.
Wanna explain that? Judge asked, cursing when he had fixed all his misspellings to at least where they were readable. But his fingers gripped the phone way too tightly.
Stel hired her, came the delayed answer.
Judge blinked at the phone in his hand. He read that last answer again. Stella
hired her?
He smoothed a hand down his long beard. Then again.
That could be good. No, not good, fucking great.
It would be so much easier to keep an eye on her in a place she was around MC members and ol’ ladies. Hell, those were extra set of eyes on her which wouldn’t make her suspicious. And, while she was working, he wouldn’t need to sit and rot in his fucking Expedition half the night.
That also could mean she might not be skipping town as soon as hubby showed up, which was his original guess.
Maybe she was starting fresh instead. The only question was, was it with or without Dennis Lange?
No wedding ring. New town. New job.
Maybe Lange wasn’t showing up at all?
And if not, where the fuck was he?
Chapter Six
Judge downed a double shot of Jack Daniels, slammed the glass on the bar and chased it with the rest of his beer. A whine and a scrambling sound at his feet made him turn his head.
Jury rushed over to Justice and licked his mouth in greeting before wrestling Deke’s dog down to the wood floor as his owner entered The Barn through the bunkhouse door.
“Think they hadn’t seen each other in a fuckin’ week or somethin’.” Deke shook his head as he strode up to the bar, nabbed the bottle of Jack and headed over to one of the bus benches that had been moved in front of the stone fireplace in the center of church.
With a sigh, Judge followed him, dropping onto the bench next to his cousin. After Deke was done drinking from the bottle, he passed it to Judge, who tipped it to his lips next.
“You dirty a glass, it stays dirty ‘til one of the sweet butts gets her fuckin’ ass in here to clean it. You drink from the bottle, nobody gives a shit.”
True.
Deke kicked his boots up onto the stone ledge surrounding the circular see-through hearth and dug into his cut, pulling out a small tin. Out of that tin, appeared a hand-rolled, not of the tobacco variety.
Fuck yeah. Judge propped his boots on the stone, too, and settled in. Time to fucking relax until two am or so when he tailed Cassie back to her sister’s home.
Judge hated her closing up the bar. But for now, she wasn’t doing it by herself. However, what she was doing was leaving out the backdoor late at night into a dark alley and getting into her vehicle alone.
Because of that, he not only made sure she got home okay, he sat down the street from the Douglas house for a bit to make sure there were no signs of Lange.
There hadn’t been.
Still didn’t mean he wouldn’t show up. They had no reason to give up looking for him in Manning Grove until the New York bondsman called to say his ass was captured.
When he was, he wondered if Cassie would stay or go...
Fuck.
Or if he was never captured...
Judge ripped the lit joint from Deke’s lips as he inhaled and took a long hit himself, letting the smoke fill up his lungs.
He didn’t even know the fucking woman. She could be a total cunt who only went for rich, entitled, white collar fuckers, who screwed over charities and thought they were too good to go to jail when they were caught.
Fuck that tie-wearing motherfucker. He needed to be fucking choked with it.
He took another quick hit before Deke snagged the blunt back. “Don’t mind fuckin’ sharin’, but don’t bogart the whole fuckin’ thing.”
After they finished their WrestleMania match, the dogs barreled back to where they were sitting and settled by the fire with grunts and groans. Then Justice hiked up a rear leg and began to lick his balls.
Deke passed the joint back over and lifted the bottle to his lips. When he dropped it back to his thigh, he said, “Thinkin’ ‘bout headin’ to Rochester.”
“For what?” Judge already knew the answer and didn’t like it.
“To find that motherfucker.”
“Only supposed to nab ‘im if he shows up in the Grove, Deke.” It was a reminder his cousin shouldn’t need. He knew how it all worked, knew what their part in this whole thing was.
“Yeah, but it’s a bit personal for me. And the scratch is just a bonus.”
The scratch should be the main reason. They weren’t the goddamn Avengers. They were the last fucking people to be the moral police.
“What’re you gonna do? Land on the bail bondsman’s doorstep and ask questions? Deke, he don’t wanna part with twenty percent if he don’t gotta. We wouldn’t, either, if Lange skipped out on us. He ain’t gonna let you walk into the area he’s got covered already with his own bounty hunter and invite you the fuck in. In fact, it could fuck up workin’ with him in the future. Either him with us or us with him. Don’t fuck that shit up.”
“Can go up there all quiet-like and just snoop around a bit. See who he and the wifey hung out with. Check out their friends. Maybe someone knows something. Maybe the asshole talked about where he’d go hide from the law if he ever got busted. You know, while he was drunk or somethin’. Most white-collar assholes tend to run their fuckin’ mouths when they’re drinkin’.”
White-collar workers weren’t the only ones. “Right.”
“Can’t fuckin’ hurt.”
Maybe, maybe not. But he also didn’t want to step on that bondsman’s toes. And Deke doing all that work, plus the expense of him traveling, wasn’t worth the twenty percent. All of it, maybe. But twenty? Fuck no. They would end up taking a loss.
“Ain’t good business, Deke. You, of all people besides Red, are good with numbers. Run it by her and see what she says.”
“Already know what she’d say. Don’t need to hear it from her.”
“Maybe you do.”
“Fuck, brother.”
“No, Deke. Know it’s personal for you. It’s personal for me. But what he did didn’t do shit to us when you look at it close enough. It didn’t touch us at all.”
“It’s low.”
“Yeah, agreed. It’s fuckin’ lower than low.” Judge swallowed another mouthful of whiskey before handing it back to his blood cousin and club brother. “And anyway, you go up there, you might fall deep into some snatch and not come back for days. Not ‘til your nuts are wrinkled up and your dick’s shootin’ nothin’ but exhaust fumes. Can’t have you gone that long. Not with me tailin’ Cassie when she’s not at work.”
“Just a couple days. Promise not to stick my dick anyplace which might be a trap.”
“All snatch is a trap. Foolin’ yourself if you think otherwise.”
“Not all snatch is a trap, Judge.”
Judge grunted.
“Just ‘cause you fucked up once, don’t mean we all fuck up.”
“Just be glad you didn’t. Don’t mean you never will.”
Deke grabbed the Jack bottle and took a swig. When he was done, he used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. “Just gotta be careful is all.”
Judge swung his head toward his cousin, his blood pressure already spiking.
Deke lifted his hand and faked a laugh. “Know it wasn’t you at first, cuz. She fucked you. But then you fucked her. From there everythin’ went to shit. Kinda like the Fury did. Had your own mini implosion.”
“Wasn’t a mini fuckin’ implosion.” It blew his life apart.
Deke sobered. “No. I get it. Might’ve missed the original Fury exploding to pieces, but didn’t miss the shit that happened to you. Saw it. And, Cuz, I learned from all that shit. Never tie yourself to a sneaky goddamn cunt. Not a life to live.”
No, it wasn’t. And now he was extra careful about who he stuck his dick into.
Judge relaxed against the vinyl bench and stared into the dying fire. “Did a bunch of research on Lange and his case after you left for Williamsport the other day.”
“Yeah, so did I.”
“Tried to get a read on the whole thing.”
“’Cause of her,” Deke said.
“’Cause of the scratch.”
Deke snorted softly.
Judge ignored it. “Most comments
from the public demanded the man’s head on a fuckin’ pike. Most were fuckin’ ruthless.” He could understand why.
“Yeah, well, that fucker hadn’t stolen money from just any fuckin’ charity, it was one for kids dyin’ of cancer.” Deke inhaled loudly and shook his head. “You don’t fuckin’ steal from kids.”
“No, not dyin’ kids,” Judge muttered.
“And that right there’s why I want to head north.”
He turned and studied his cousin’s profile. It was hard and Judge got it. Cancer was a stickler for both of them. To think about kids suffering the same way Walt did...
Fuck, Judge didn’t even want to think about it.
It was bad enough when it was an older man who’d lived a life. But some fuckin’ innocent child who hadn’t even had a chance yet to live?
Life was fucking goddamn cruel.
And then some asswipe comes along and embezzles three-hundred grand. At least that was what the investigators could prove. It might have even been more.
Judge wondered why Lange needed the money.
Had he stepped in some shit he’d been trying to buy his way out of? Or was he trying to live above his means?
Cassie didn’t seem to be the high maintenance type. She didn’t seem the type to live the glamorous life. But maybe he was wrong, and she had demanded luxury and, once her hubby fell, she tumbled along with it into the gutter with the rest of the regular folk.
Maybe she and Lange had the money hidden away somewhere so, once they escaped, they could go back to living the high life.
He hoped to fuck he was wrong about Cassie.
He’d been wrong about a woman before.
He needed to put on his blinders when it came to certain women. Some of their pussies were sticky like a glue trap. Once you were caught, it was difficult to break free.
Yeah, maybe Cassie was temporarily slumming it with the rest of the regular working folk by driving that old Honda and taking a job at Crazy Pete’s. Just biding her time until she could hook up with Lange again.
Maybe.
Christ. Why the fuck should he even care? He didn’t even fucking know her. He had no reason to want to know her.
Blood & Bones: Judge (Blood Fury MC Book 3) Page 8