by Layla Frost
But my question was cut off when a different jingling ringtone sounded.
“Lights on,” Judge said.
I shifted to stand so I could flip the switch—though I’d also call him a few choice names while reminding him manners went a long way—but before I could, the room’s lights flickered on.
“Was that like the modern Clapper?” I asked.
“Glitch has the whole place souped-up with the latest technology. Probably gonna turn on us like HAL in 2001: A Space Odyssey, but it’s cool as shit.” He touched his phone and the screen changed, blurring before coming into focus.
A massive man filled the display, an unlit cigar held between lips that were mostly hidden by a beard. The low light and sounds of traffic made me guess he was sitting outdoors somewhere.
He wasn’t traditionally attractive, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t hot.
Not Judge-levels of hot, but still. Hot.
“Feel like I’m taking a damn selfie,” the man said, taking the unlit cigar from his mouth. His accent wasn’t exactly the same as the man who’d called earlier, but it was similar.
Judge chuckled. “Let’s see your duck lips.”
The man aimed the camera at his middle finger before everything went catawampus. He must’ve propped the phone on something because more of the man was visible, along with the prettiest dog I’d ever seen. Based on the chair style and brick behind him, I was betting they were on a deck or balcony.
I waited for Judge to sit up or adjust his phone because it was aimed at his face and chest with only a bit of my side showing. When he didn’t, I leaned down as best as I could in our awkward position so I was in the frame, too.
Had my focus been on the man and not on Judge and me in the small square in the corner, I would’ve missed his triumphant smile.
He wasn’t being clueless, he just wanted me closer.
I rolled my eyes, and he grinned.
“Nico says it’s bullshit, but that fookin’ boom will get ya every time,” the man said.
I know he’s saying words, but I have no clue what they mean.
Judge echoed my thoughts out loud, saying, “Yeah, still got no clue what the hell you’re talkin’ about.”
The man lifted his glass toward the phone before taking a healthy swig. “You will.”
“Ophelia, this is Nox. I do jobs with him.”
I didn’t know what that meant, and if I wanted to be allowed to walk free, I bet I didn’t want to know.
“Your dog is gorgeous,” I said, wishing I could reach through the screen and pet his pretty fur.
“Aye, he’s a good lad.”
The dog gave a snarfle of agreement.
“I got some questions for you, lass,” Nox continued.
I tensed, and Judge’s thumb started rubbing the sensitive skin of my inner wrist.
“Okay,” I forced out.
“You know a man named Nash?”
“No, should I?”
“Nah, he’s definitely not someone you wanna know.” Still holding his glass tumbler, he leaned closer to the phone and put his elbows to his knees. “You have any connection to the Irish?”
“I think my dad said we were, like, one-sixteenth Irish, but my mom said that was just an excuse so she’d make corned beef on Saint Patrick’s Day.”
The man smiled. “I’m talking about the Irish mafia, lass.”
If my eyes shot open any wider, they’d likely pop out of my head. “The mob? No, definitely no connection to them.”
“How about a man named Lars? Or his club, Wicked?”
With as many clubs and bars as Boston had—and how quickly they turned over—my girls and I could go to a different one every night and still never get to every place. Since our nights out were rare, we tended to stick to a few tried-and-trues. Wicked wasn’t one of our usuals, but I couldn’t remember the name of the smarmy club we’d gone to a few months back.
Cringing at the memory of the cliché train wreck, I asked, “Is that the cheesy place with all the chrome, fake art, and ridiculous patches of fur everywhere?”
Judge barked out a noise that sounded like a mix of a laugh and a choke.
“Yes,” Nox wheezed, choking on his own laughter. “But I doubt it’s the same one you’re thinking of.” Getting control of himself, he continued his questioning. “What about Elder Oaks?”
I hesitated, not because I had something to hide, but because my instinct was to protect. But lying could backfire and get me in more trouble.
Plus, if he was asking, it was likely because he already knew the answer.
“Yeah, that’s where I work,” I said, and Judge’s hand squeezed my wrist.
“As a nurse.”
Even though it wasn’t a question, I answered anyway. “Yes.” I gave Judge a quick glare. “Not the naughty kind, either.”
“A man can fantasize,” he muttered back.
Nox cleared his throat. “Ever met a resident named Carol Anne Allan?”
“Ms. Carol Anne? Of course, she makes sure everyone knows her and she knows everyone. Why?” My heart sank in my tight chest. “Is she okay?”
“Aye. She’ll outlive us all, don’t worry.”
“You know her.”
That time, it was him who answered my non-question. “Aye. Her granddaughter is my wife.”
“You’re Gus’ husband?” Stunned, I mustered up a feeble, “Ms. Carol Anne’s been showing off the ultrasound pictures. Congrats.”
He looked as proud as a father-to-be could. “Thanks, lass.”
Elder Oaks was a premier senior living facility. The place was exclusive, cost a fortune, and featured all sorts of activities and amenities for when the seniors wanted to get out of their posh apartments. It wasn’t a nursing home, but since the residents were all over a certain age and income bracket, it was staffed with round-the-clock nurses and a rotation of the best doctors Massachusetts had to offer.
Landing the once in a lifetime job had been a miracle, and likely only happened because one of the surlier residents had struck up a conversation with me while I’d waited to drop off my resume. After that, he’d refused to see any other nurse and had offered to pay my salary himself.
Even though I was qualified—though inexperienced—I got the feeling my supervisor had only appeased him because she’d figured I’d quit within a few weeks anyway. But I was still there, loving my job and the residents, even if some days wore me down to the bone.
Or when a favorite passed away, to the soul.
Of all of my favorites, though, Ms. Carol Anne was top of the list. She was a feisty southern lady who went hardcore with euchre, knew all the good gossip, and was obsessed with the Kardashians. Her sharp wit could draw laughter or blood depending on whether she liked the recipient.
I’d met her granddaughter, Gus, a handful of times, and although I’d heard all about Gus’ ‘handsome beau’, I’d never met him. Carol Anne was a do-er and preferred to get out and about for their visits.
“We had dinner with Carol Anne today. She asked me to do my,” Nox lifted his hand for finger quotes, “‘scary man thing’ because her favorite nurse called off for work.”
Like Judge said, we were in the middle of a shitstorm, but that didn’t stop me from feeling flattered and honored I was her favorite.
“Owe her an apology,” Nox continued, slowly shaking his head, “and some of Piper’s cupcakes because I dismissed her concern over a nurse missing one shift. Told her everyone gets sick, but she said you wouldn’t call off over text. Shoulda known she knows every-damn-thing.”
Judge’s body tensed. “Did you and Dair still dig?”
“Aye. Thoroughly. That’s what took so long. Wasn’t gonna call ‘til the morning but decided to do it now since I wasn’t sure what you were up against there.” He grinned. “Looks like I was right… you’ve got your hands full.”
Judge didn’t try to explain, join the joke, or even comment. His muscles stayed taut, his jaw clenched as he prodded, “A
nd?”
“Ophelia Kline.”
Hearing my name in a gruff, accented voice quickly drew my attention away from Judge’s reaction back to Nox.
“Is as clean as fresh fookin’ snow,” he finished.
“What?” I asked at the same time Judge asked, “You sure?”
Nox scowled, and though he was still attractive, he was also scary as hell. “Would I be out here freezing my balls off to call you if I wasn’t fookin’ sure? I could be in my warm bed wrapped around my warm wife.”
“Don’t get your frozen balls in a twist.” Judge paused before adding, “Clearly more’s at stake than originally thought.”
Although I had no clue what he was talking about, the way he’d said it made the innocuous words heavy with unknown significance.
“We dug deep, especially after finding the link to Carol Anne. If anyone else had been working this, I’d have sent their ass back out ‘cause everyone has a skeleton or two. But Ophelia’s clean, and spending a hundred years searching wouldn’t find jack-shit since there’s jack-shit to find.”
Judge lifted his chin in response, but I could feel him relax next to me.
Disconcerted and freaked out, not to mention exhausted beyond a filter, I said, “It’s bad enough people are digging around in my life, but you both talking about me as if I’m not here is making it much worse.”
“Sorry, lass,” Nox apologized, seeming genuine and not just placating.
Judge didn’t say anything, but he gave my wrist a squeeze before his thumb resumed stroking softly.
“What did you think I—” I started when another thought hit me. “Wait, does this mean I can go home?”
All the tension that’d melted from Judge seemed to come back tenfold, the veins in his forearm becoming more pronounced and the definition of his muscles more cut. Rolling his head to meet my eyes, his voice was soft when he said, “This proves you’re not workin’ for them, but you’re still involved. Your place being hit isn’t a coincidence.”
I didn’t need the reminder. Every time I thought about the destruction to my home—the total and complete invasion of privacy on such a personal level—my heart shattered and tears burned my eyes.
“So what you’re saying is it’s not safe for me there,” I surmised on a whisper.
“Sorry, princess,” he whispered back, his light brown eyes hypnotic up close.
So close.
The lead that’d filled my belly split by the thousands, erupting into butterflies with fluttering wings and hyperactive tempos.
“We’ve already moved your car to one of my warehouses,” Nox said, breaking the moment. “You’re welcome to come stay, lass.”
Judge sat up fast, taking me with him so I ended up on his lap. “Fuck off.”
Nox gave him the finger. “Got a guy working an hour away. He can swing by and pick ya up.”
“Fuckin’ try it,” Judge snarled, wrapping his free arm around my waist—tight.
“Not sayin’ I’m gonna hide her away in a fookin’ tower, you damn muppet. But when a thick bastard says ‘Nice to meet ya’ by throwing her in the back of a van, it’s understandable the lass might wanna get some distance.”
The logic was lost on Judge who merely bit out a fully-loaded challenge. “Fuckin’. Try. It.”
“I’m good here,” I blurted before I could change my mind.
“Ya sure, lass?” Nox asked.
“You fuckin’ heard—”
Judge’s words were cut off when I put my arm over his at my waist and reached my other back so I could cover his mouth—though the awkward angle meant my palm was mostly on his cheek and not his lips.
It was still effective, and he shut up before he said something that would cost him whatever business he had with Nox.
“Relax, Psycho,” I said, going extra-heavy with the condescendence by patting his arm.
“Message received,” he muttered, though I wasn’t sure if he was referring to him acting psycho or how insulting it was to tell someone to relax.
Hopefully both.
“I’m sure,” I told Nox. “But if I change my mind, you’ll be the first to know.”
After draining his glass, a grin split Nox’s face, and he leaned forward to grab his phone. “Ya gotta play this smart. Your folks still on that cruise?”
My jaw dropped and a trickle of fear snaked down my spine. It wasn’t that I thought Nox would do anything, but it’d be stupid not to be at least a little afraid of someone who could find out those kinds of details in less than a day.
“Yes, for another two weeks,” I said slowly.
“They coming to visit when they’re done?”
Ha!
Like most teens, I’d spent my high school years counting down until graduation because I’d been so excited to be an adult. My parents had counted down right along with me because that’d meant retirement for them. The day I’d left Rhode Island for school in Massachusetts, they’d left for sun and golf in Florida.
They’d gotten the better end of the deal. Adulting sucked.
They were great parents, but I’d been an accidental pregnancy when they were forty-one. Once I’d moved out, they’d restarted their lives doing all the things they’d been planning to do before I came along.
“We’re not close like that,” I said, keeping it simple. “They’ll call when they get home.”
“Just keep it business as usual. Same with your friends. You say something that worries them, they’ll start sniffing around, getting on radars they don’t wanna be on.”
Thankfully, most of my friends were also nurses, which meant our schedules rarely lined up. Me being unavailable for a while wouldn’t be anything new.
“And you’re out of work ‘til this is settled. Keep it vague—family emergency. They give ya shit, call me. There’s strings to pull and points to pressure, aye?”
I’ve been saying I need a vacation, but a biker clubhouse wasn’t the destination I had in mind…
Nox took the cigar and used it to point at Judge. “Share whatever ya think ya need to ‘cause I know your deal with lying, but Gus-Protocol is in full-fookin’-effect with this shit. Be in touch.”
With that, he ended the call, leaving me and Judge and the elephant in the room to our thoughts.
I wasn’t going full-Stockholm by agreeing to stay. There was a method to my madness, and it wasn’t that hot guy was so hot, I got the dumb.
Somehow, I’d gotten dragged into a mess. I had no clue what it was about, so I had no clue how to make it better. My place wasn’t safe, but Judge’s—I knew from frustrating experience—was secure and secluded.
Nox may have been able to offer me the same safe haven, but if the shitstorm turned into a Category Five shit-ricane, his attention and protection would be on his wife and family—as it should be.
The way I saw it, my safety was in my own incapable hands. I had a better chance of avoiding the path of the storm if I was out in the middle of nowhere. And if it reached me, I had to hope my instincts were correct, and Judge would help keep me safe.
I had a strong feeling he would.
Plus, I wasn’t acting on my gut alone. I liked Gus and loved Ms. Carol Anne, so if they both trusted Nox, there was a reason for it. And since he clearly trusted Judge, ipso facto…
That didn’t mean I was naïve enough to think he was one of the good guys.
But I also wasn’t naïve enough to think there wasn’t a badder guy out there.
In the face of whatever chaos awaited, I wanted to be on the same side as the bad guy who held me tenderly in his lap—not the one who’d destroyed my personal possessions and made enemies with a psycho, his biker brothers, and an accented beast.
Well, I’d be on his side as long as he filled me in on what was happening and promised no more kidnapping. Because otherwise the deal was off and I’d run barefoot to Nox and Gus.
“We need to talk.”
Judge’s lips brushed against the top of my head when he said, �
�Okay.”
“After I get some sleep,” I amended. When he didn’t move his arm, I pressed against his hold. It took a few long moments, but he eventually relented and released me, though he skimmed across my skin as I went.
“Lights off,” he said, his eyes glued to me the last thing I saw before the room went dark.
I climbed back into bed and stayed on the side closest to Judge.
Because beyond instinct, logic, common sense, and everything else, that was where I felt safest as I fell into a deep sleep.
CHAPTER SEVEN
___________________________
MRS. BUTTERWORTH, SYRUP SLUT
JUDGE
“TALKED TO NOX.”
Shit.
The night before had gone better than I’d anticipated.
Of course, I’d figured Ophelia would smother me in my sleep, so the bar had been set pretty damn low.
But even if I’d had it set high, I’d never have expected her to agree to stay with me.
Her choosing me over Nox meant she trusted me to keep her safe…
Or it meant she didn’t trust either of us and was sticking with me because she thought she had a better shot at shivving me with a whittled down toothbrush.
Whichever it was, I’d take it.
I’d find out why she had a target on her back.
I’d find who put it there and thank them for twisting fate to bring her into my life.
And then I’d fuckin’ kill them.
Painfully.
Slowly.
Then I’d go home, touch Ophelia with hands that had so much figurative blood on them, they were as permanently stained as my soul, and hope she was okay with my filth marring her blinding perfection.
Despite having jacked off the night before while she’d changed and that morning in the shower, my dick hardened down my thigh.
“Ya hear me?” Jury asked through the phone pressed to my ear.
“Yeah, yeah. Talked to Nox. So did I.”
“Oh, I know. Fuckin’ everyone knows. The bastard had a field day lettin’ everyone and their mothers know he wasn’t the only one whipped now.”
Only difference is he’s had the pussy he’s whipped by.
Maybe O’s feelin’ extra trusting this morning…