He rose from his chair, pulled a wrinkled ten from his front pocket and approached her.
When he stepped behind her—not touching, but close enough to feel each other’s heat—her spine snapped straight. He leaned down and put his mouth near her ear, murmuring, “Said call you if I need you.” He tucked the ten into a pocket of the little black apron wrapped around her waist.
It wasn’t hard to miss the goosebumps breaking out over her arms and the slight shiver.
She wasn’t afraid of him.
Fuck no.
Her reaction had nothing to do with fear.
Judge’s half-grin widened into a full one when she jolted as if jump-started and rushed back behind the bar to escape that heat.
As he moved toward the door, she was saying something to Dodge, who was doing his best to keep a straight face. But the prospect’s eyes hit Judge’s across the room and Judge jerked his chin up at him.
Then he walked outside to cool the fuck off.
Judge ignored the whimpers coming from the doorway. Jury and Justice would just have to wait for breakfast. He had something important to finish first.
He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, ignoring the noisy dogs, and listened to the squish his generously lubed Fleshlight made as he slid it up and down his throbbing cock.
If he couldn’t have pussy, it was the next best thing. Sometimes even better, since when he was done, he could put it away and not be nagged.
But this morning he was picturing Cassie. Her long, blonde hair being flung around as she called his name and rode him hard and fast.
Her pussy soaked and squeezing him tight.
Her big tits bouncing and her own fingers playing with her rock-hard nipples.
Her thick thighs squeezing his hips.
Her head thrown back and her breath puffing from between her parted lips, which were swollen from her sucking his dick and then him kissing her until she begged him to fuck her.
No begging was needed.
As one hand guided his Fleshlight, the other cupped his balls, squeezing and tugging. Kneading. Feeling the slight scrape of her nails over the delicate flesh, which was still damp from her mouth earlier.
Fuck yeah.
He was determined to make the fantasy a reality, especially if the no wedding ring meant no more marriage.
That meant Cassie was free.
And if she was...
He pictured her at Crazy Pete’s last night in the snug jeans and fitted V-neck top that showed off her generous cleavage and hugged every one of her damn curves.
Every fucking one.
He wanted to suck those nipples which had become visible through the thin fabric after he whispered in her ear.
He pursed his lips as he relived her rushing away from him.
Those hips. That ass.
The natural sway of them as she escaped him.
How every man in that bar wasn’t on his hands and knees following her like the Pied fucking Piper…?
But he was relieved they weren’t.
Because if the husband was out of the picture, Cassie was his. She just didn’t know it yet.
But she would. Soon enough.
Yeah, he wanted info from her about Lange. But while he worked on that, he’d work on her.
He blew out a breath and drove his dick deep into the slick hole. Rolling over, he pinned the Fleshlight between him and the mattress, imagining he’d bent Cassie over one of the tables and she wore a short skirt where it showed off her bare thighs and her ass when he shoved it up.
Fuck yeah.
He leaned over her back as she gripped the table’s edge and he groaned into her ear about how tight and wet she was.
With little whimpers, she encouraged him to fuck her harder. He did.
To fuck her deeper. He did.
To fuck her faster. He did.
Over and over he drove harder, faster, deeper. His fingers digging into the flesh at her hip and fisting her long, blonde hair.
Jesus fuck. She was perfection.
Goddamn perfection.
The pressure built. In his gut, in his balls. He thrust one more time and spilled deep inside her, his dick twitching, his balls emptying.
And when he was done, he laid there, his face buried in his pillow, his fingers clutching the sheets, his breathing rough and quick.
Then he heard it.
A donkey braying.
Fuck.
He slipped out of the silicone pussy and rolled over, making sure his load didn’t spill all over his sheets. He grabbed his cell phone and some tissues from the nightstand.
The donkey brayed again, and Judge answered the phone with one hand while cleaning off the majority of the mess on his dick with the other. “Yo.”
“Whatcha doin’?”
Judge glanced at the cum-filled Fleshlight, which he’d propped upright on the nightstand. “Was sleepin’.”
“Why you out of breath?”
“Why the fuck you callin’ me?” He pulled his phone away and glanced at the time. Fuck, it was later than he realized. Following Cassie home every night around two-thirty in the morning sucked. It was fucking up his sleep.
Deke snorted. “Got news.”
“Couldn’t have waited ‘til I got to the office?”
There was a long hesitation, then, “Coulda. But figured the dogs woulda had you up by now.”
“Let ‘em out this mornin’ around three, after getting back.”
“No sign of the fucker, right?”
That sounded like a question Deke wasn’t expecting an answer to. Like he already knew that answer. “No.”
“You chat her up?”
Not as much as he’d hoped. “Not enough.”
“Maybe you need to charm her with that flavor savor of yours. Bet if you try hard enough you can still smell the last ten pussies you ate, along with the pepperoni pizza from last week.”
“Deke,” he muttered, tired of the endless shit he gave him about his beard. “Gonna hang the fuck up.”
His cousin’s laughter hit his ear. “The fuck you will.”
Judge pressed the End Call button and the phone went dark.
He waited.
The donkey brayed again as both dogs came running into his bedroom and took a flying leap onto the bed.
Judge reluctantly answered the call and put the phone to his ear, making sure neither wet snouts ended up anywhere near his now soft, but still somewhat messy, dick.
He needed to shower, feed himself and the dogs, and get to the office. He had no time for lying in bed and chatting with Deke like two fucking teen girls.
“Got info.”
“Said that once already. Still ain’t heard it.”
“Jesus fuck, someone’s cranky. Call Billie or somethin’.”
Billie wasn’t going to cut it. Right now, Judge only wanted one woman.
Though that woman acted like she didn’t want him.
She did. Again, she just didn’t know it yet.
“Deke...”
“Did a quick search online. Found out where she worked up here. Went there and talked to another vet tech—”
Judge brushed his fingers over the buzzed hair on his head. “Another vet tech?”
“Yeah, Cassie’s a vet tech. Or was. Good at her job. Seems she was liked well enough by the people there. At least ‘til all the shit with Lange hit the fan.”
Judge stared at the ceiling and propped a bent arm under his head. “Was she involved?”
“People think she was. Said there was no way she couldn’t have known.”
“Which is bullshit.”
“Yeah,” Deke agreed. “Turns out Lange had a gamblin’ problem.”
Jesus fuck. That would make sense. “Shouldn’t be surprised.”
“Yeah, but she didn’t know.”
“He musta hid it well.” Unless she did know and lied about it to her coworkers.
“Some locals can’t believe it wasn’t obvious.”
&n
bsp; “Guess it wasn’t obvious to Lange’s employer, either, if he had a chance to embezzle all that fuckin’ scratch.”
“Any-fuckin-way, the tech—who’s fuckin’ hot as fuck—”
“Christ, Deke. You fuckin’ did her?”
Silence.
Judge groaned. Of course, he did. “Jesus, you fuckin’ did her.” The man was good at finding ways to get info. Even if he had to use his own dick.
Not that fucking hot pussy was a hardship for him.
“Pillow talk got me good info from her last night. Any-fuckin-way, Beth—”
“Beth,” Judge muttered to the ceiling.
“Beth said Lange wanted to take out a second mortgage. Of course, Cassie woulda had to sign for it since the house was in both their names. She refused when he wouldn’t give her a straight answer on why they needed the line of credit. When she got suspicious, she began diggin’ and discovered their joint bank accounts drained. Their retirement accounts zeroed out, too. Their life savings? Fuckin’ gone. He blew through it all like a cokehead with an eight ball. Cassie kicked his ass out after she confronted him ‘bout the money. They didn’t have a lot but what little they had was lost in online card games, and at the tracks. Played both the ponies and the hounds.”
“Fuck,” Judge muttered, he hit the speaker button on his phone and placed it on his chest so he could reach out and rub Jury’s ears.
Most of the time he didn’t even realize he was doing it, but at that moment, he did it on purpose. He needed to keep his thoughts calm and clear. Jury always helped him keep his shit from spinning.
“Thanks,” he muttered.
“For what?” came through the speaker.
“For talkin’ me into gettin’ Jury.”
Silence filled the room for a few beats.
It wasn’t the first time he’d thanked Deke for taking him along to pick up Justice and it wouldn’t be the last, so his cousin was used to it. Deacon got it. Justice was everything to him, too.
“Yeah, so Beth said she kicked his ass out and filed for divorce coupla months later. She and the girl stayed in the house, just thinkin’ her douchebag husband was only a gamblin’ addict. Turned out to be worse. Found that out when her ass got dragged in by the pigs and questioned. Even threatened with time in the joint and loss of her fuckin’ kid.”
“Fuck,” he muttered again, his fingers moving more quickly over Jury’s soft floppy ears. She groaned and stretched out along his side. Justice head-butted his other side and flopped down, wanting attention, too.
Judge didn’t deny him.
“Get this shit... The fucker was the finance manager for the Kids Can Do Foundation. Finance motherfucking manager.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah, perfect place to feed your habit, if you can get away with it.”
“Small amounts, maybe.”
“Right, maybe if you’re smart. But if your addiction’s out of fuckin’ control, you’re not thinkin’ straight. You’re thinkin’ about where your next fix is comin’ from. And eventually someone’s gonna notice when several hundred grand comes up missin’. Even a financial manager can’t hide that shit. He coulda been pocketin’ any cash donations, too. Long story short, his ass got caught and they seized everythin’. He bonded out and you know the rest.”
“Don’t get why she left Rochester.”
“Because this was a charity for kids with cancer, the news spread like wildfire. Everyone was up in fuckin’ arms about how he could do this, not only to a charity but one that helped kids with the big C. And, of course, even though they had separated, her name was dragged through the mud along with his by default. Cassidy Lange, wife of Dennis Lange. Shit like that’s hard to scrape clean of, ‘specially when they’re still legally married.”
Judge figured as much since Cassie was still listed as his wife in the documents the bondsman had sent. Without a divorce, she could be held responsible for his debt. Which for her—hell, for most people—was huge. “This Beth think she was a part of it?”
“No, she’s one of the few who don’t. Said most of ‘em in the vet’s office don’t believe Cassie knew. Unless she’s a good actress, it all came as a shock to her. She was actually devastated when she found out he’d gambled everything away, before findin’ out the rest. But John Q. Public blames her for not warnin’ the foundation that Lange was a gamblin’ addict the second she found out.”
“Thought she didn’t know.”
“Yeah, she didn’t and by the time she did, she wanted nothin’ to do with him and had no idea he was embezzlin’ all that scratch. She wasn’t seein’ any of the money, so she had no fuckin’ clue about it. He was takin’ it and gamblin’ it right away. Apparently, he was playin’ online poker and making bets right in his office durin’ working hours. Movin’ money from one account to another. Feds went in, took the man’s computer and they then had all the evidence nice and neat. Case closed.”
Yeah, case closed if the fucker hadn’t jumped bond. “Jesus.”
“Yeah. Sounds like the addiction had a solid hold of him if he was doin’ it right there in the office.”
“Why he got caught. Got reckless, desperate even, to feed his habit.”
“Prolly. But the board of directors had ordered an audit of the books without him knowin’ and that’s when shit didn’t add up. Hired a forensic accountant who pointed a finger at Lange.”
“So, the asshole had a secret fuckin’ life he hid from his wife and kid.”
“Pretty much. But the looks she got, the comments, the harassment... She even had people push her, spit on her, threaten her and the kid’s life. Everyone thought she should help pay back the stolen money since she was still legally married to him. But she had nothin’ left by the time he got caught since he’d spent it all. Actually, she had nothin’ by the time he admitted to her he had a problem. By then, it was too late.”
Judge’s jaw got tight. “Goddamn bullshit.”
“People see what they want to see. Push blame where they want to, whether it’s right or wrong. We fuckin’ know that, Judge. Hell, we see that every fuckin’ day in our business.”
That was too true. People saw what they wanted to see. Someone could be staring directly at the truth and still not see it.
Maybe that was how it was for Cassie, too. She didn’t see the signs that her husband was addicted to gambling. Though, it was a high that could be hidden a little more easily than drugs or booze because it wasn’t directly in her face. Especially if he was doing it online at work and not going to the track or a casino to scratch his itch.
Eventually, when the gambler hit rock bottom, the truth would come out. But unless there were other outward signs, something like that could be hidden for a while. Overdue bills, bounced checks, car repos, foreclosures were the big red flags. Getting arrested and charged for embezzlement? That shit was a flashing neon arrow.
By that time, it had been too late.
By that time, the asshole not only fucked himself but his family.
With what Deke was saying, it seemed Cassie didn’t come to the Grove to hook up with her hubby and hide. It looked like she might have come to escape the bullshit Lange created.
She was trying to scrape off the shit her husband splattered all over her and her little girl. Which made him determined now more than ever to help catch that fucker.
Lange not only fucked over kids dying of cancer, but his own daughter, as well.
A minimum-security prison wasn’t good enough, which was where a white-collar criminal like him would go.
Suddenly, the twenty percent didn’t matter. Just like it became personal for Deke, it had become personal for Judge.
Fuck the money.
Dennis Lange had done wrong.
And Judge was going to make it right.
Chapter Eight
Cassie parked her Honda at the curb in front of the house, shut off the engine and sat in the dark, her eyes glued to the rearview mirror.
Her feet hurt. He
r back hurt. But she had made a decent amount of tips tonight.
Some of that money would have to go toward Daisy’s Christmas presents. The holiday was coming up soon and she wasn’t prepared.
She hated to use any of the money for anything other than a new place for them to live, but Heather and Tyler insisted they were in no rush for her to move out.
As kind as that was, she still felt bad being a financial burden on them and destroying their privacy, especially when they were trying to make a baby.
But that wasn’t her immediate concern.
She glanced at the clock on the dash and yawned. 2:35.
Every night she worked at Crazy Pete’s, she’d come home, quietly take a shower, then climb into bed with Daisy, curling around her daughter and falling asleep almost immediately because she was so exhausted.
Tonight was the first night she’d closed the bar on her own and, being a Saturday, it had been busy.
But she did it.
She did last call at ten minutes before two and everyone left without too much hassle with only one straggler. She quickly counted the cash, put it in the safe, wiped things down and shut off the lights.
Stella and Dodge had a thing tonight at what they called “The Barn,” which they said was their MC’s clubhouse.
Actually, it was a celebration because Dodge was getting “patched in” as a full member of the club and would no longer be a prospect. Which was a big deal she was told.
Soon the back of his vest would look like Trip’s and Judge’s and have both rockers and the huge center patch.
In the week or so she’d been working at Crazy Pete’s, she was getting to learn some of the lingo of an MC. She also asked Dodge and Stella, even Trip, a lot of questions when things were slow.
Cassie found it all fascinating.
But she wasn’t sure if an MC was like a family or brotherhood, or just a club of friends. But whatever it was, they took it seriously, that was for sure.
She’d met Ozzy, who was a little older, and Dutch, a grizzly man who was a lot older. And also Cage, Dutch’s son, had stopped in once for a couple of beers. But Cassie pretty much figured word was getting around in their MC that she was the newest employee at Pete’s, and everyone wanted to check her out.
Blood & Bones: Judge (Blood Fury MC Book 3) Page 10