Don't Judge

by A. E. Via

  “No! I’m good.” Michaels pulled down the visor with his other hand, looking at his reflection. He was able to use his left eye just fine and there didn’t appear to be any damage there. He slowly pulled his blood-soaked hand away from his face.

  Judge was watching him closely, every now and then turning his attention back to the road. Michaels wanted to reassure Judge that he was okay because the man looked like he’d just had triple bypass surgery. His hands shook fiercely as he tried to navigate the large vehicle up the interstate ramp.

  Michaels left eye was still sealed shut, there was no way he could open it with all the blood seeping down his face.

  “Fuck!” Judge gripped the steering wheel and barely missed running them directly into the guard rail.

  Michaels took a calming breath. If he didn’t settle Judge down, he was going to kill them himself. “Judge. I’m not shot. It was glass. I’m cut on my forehead.” Michaels took off his over-shirt and dabbed at the blood on his face. There was a little nick on his neck too but the culprit causing all the gore was the gash above his eyebrow. He tried not to make a sound as he wiped at it a couple more times the blood coming faster than he could wipe. He saw the cut was at least two and half inches long and split pretty deep. He’d probably need stitches but some closure adhesive should take care of it until he got home. He inched his eye open, the thick blood weighing down his lashes but at least it was still inside its socket. He could see and it appeared that his eye wasn’t cut either. Taking a sigh of relief, he balled up his shirt and pressed it hard against the cut, grimacing at the sharp pain.

  “You need stitches.” Judge said through clenched teeth.

  “You have a first aid kit, right? Michaels didn’t wait for Judge to answer. He knew he did. “I’ll take care of it in Jacksonville.”

  “Fuck that.” Judge pulled out his cell. His hands still visibly shaking. Michaels heard him telling God to change their reservations, that they weren’t gonna make it there and needed something just outside the city. “Yeah. They fired several rounds but no one was hit. Michaels is cut on his forehead from glass so we need to get to a place where it can be cleaned. And he needs to rest.”

  Michaels wanted to bitch about Judge making him do something and telling him what he needed but it was true, he didn’t have the energy and now that the adrenaline had dissipated, he was feeling worn out. Michaels kept the pressure on his cut but couldn’t help but slouch down into the leather cushioning and turned his head on the good side facing Judge and closed his eyes. Bookem’s head finally popped up from behind him. He looked at Michaels as if trying to assess what was wrong and pressed his cold nose into his shoulder. When Bookem released a sad pathetic whine, Michaels gently patted him on his head, not having the energy to do more.

  Chapter Thirty

  Judge pulled into a Homewood Suites in North Miami, stopping at the office to pick up their keys before continuing around to the back side. Michaels was practically asleep in the front seat so he let Bookem out on his side. He grabbed his first aid kit then went to the end of the truck to drop the gate down and growled at Switch to get out. Book rose up on the bed, growling and barking at him. Judge knew his dog. He was sad about Michaels and pissed at Switch, blaming him for it all. “I’ll send him in there to get you if I have to.”

  Switch scooted to the back and dropped his legs to the ground. “You fuckers are crazy.”

  “Shut up. They were after you not us. So I blame you for getting my truck shot up.” Judge yanked Switch towards the room, his hands still cuffed in front of him. When he opened the door, he shoved him down on the sofa and Bookem took up post right in front of him. If he even breathed too hard, Bookem was going to try to rip his face off.

  Michaels was already half out the truck, swaying a little when he got to his feet. Judge gripped Michaels’ thick bicep and moved him towards the room. He was mad for so many different reasons. Mad at those bastard thugs for coming for them like that, mad that Michaels had been so reckless, mad that Judge had almost lost his mind when he thought Michaels had been hurt.

  When they got in the room, Michaels shrugged Judge off and took the first aid kit from his hand. “Get him situated, I’ll take care of this.”

  Judge regretfully watched Michaels walk away. He had an overwhelming sense to take care of him. Gritting his teeth he knew they had to be careful with their target. One slip up and Switch could be gone. “Go use the bathroom.” He ordered.

  “Are we staying here all day? How do you know we weren’t followed?” Switch stood and Bookem was close on his heel as he made his way through the spacious living room that separated the two bedrooms. “You guys are fuckin’ nuts. I see I’ma’ have to press charges.”

  This asshole was grating on his last nerve. This was all his fault. Michaels was hurt because of him and Judge couldn’t even be in there tending to him… because of him. If he didn’t shut up fast, Judge was going to put his fist in his throat. “Get in there and use the fuckin bathroom. Shut your idiot mouth and do what I say.”

  “You can’t touch me.” Switch jutted out his chin. The twerp was maybe five foot six or seven. A decent enough looking guy with his buzz cut blonde hair with sideburns that connected to his immaculately trimmed goatee. But he was a criminal, a murdering-drug-dealing scum, so it made him look like the ugliest man alive.

  Judge walked closer, growling almost as loud as Bookem. “Have you ever been bit in the ass by a dog?”

  Switch’s eyes widened.

  “That’s right dipshit. I’m not gonna do anything. Not until my dog has a piece of you first.” Judge shoved Switch towards the bathroom. “Now get in there.”

  Judge left the door open while Bookem stood right next to him. He turned his head towards the other bedroom when he heard the shower turn on. He thought it a relief that there were separate bathrooms and finally did a quick look around. It was like an apartment in there, complete sitting area with a large television on an oak-style TV stand. The kitchen was to the back and two bedrooms on each side. It looked nicer than a lot of places Judge had holed up in. A person could live here quite comfortably. Man, how long did God think they were staying. He’d told them to lay low until he could scope out the activity in Buckhead. If it wasn’t one hundred percent safe to bring Switch back, Judge would have to wait for God to make it safe. In a usual circumstance this would piss him off. He captured his bounty and got rid of them as quickly as possible. He wasn’t a babysitter. But as much as he hated to admit it, being here with Michaels didn’t seem so bad. His arms burned, wanting to check for himself that his hotshot detective was indeed alright. “Hurry up.” Judge bit out angrily, popping Switch in the back of his head when he took his time washing his still cuffed hands.

  “Damn, man. Alright.” He walked the way Judge pointed but paused when they turned away from the kitchen. “I’m hungry. Y’all can’t starve me.”

  “I’ll bring you a couple protein bars and some water. Eat it or not, I don’t care. After I wake up, I’ll decide if you can eat.”

  “That’s some straight bullshit. I don’t want to sit in this room.” As soon as he said that, Switch’s head turned toward the one window covered by dark green drapes.

  Judge smirked. He hoped Switch did try to climb out the window. When they were in the small bedroom Judge took the cuffs off and replaced them with a new pair. These were metal as well but the chain connecting them was longer, giving the captured a little more room to move. He didn’t need to secure the cuffs to anything. This is where Bookem came in.

  Judge tilted his head towards the window. “Go ahead. Try to open it.”

  Switch’s eyebrows dipped down in confusion. “What? Is it sealed shut or something?”

  “Not at all. Just go ahead and give it a try.” Judge smirked nastily.

  Switch took about three steps towards the window and Bookem went crazy. His bark was so loud and vicious, Switch jumped back behind the only chair in the room. Judge was holding on to Bookem’s harness
as he came up on his hind legs trying to see Switch behind the chair. He held him back, but he still let Switch see just how angry Bookem could get. When Book was on his hind legs, he stood as tall as Judge and it made him so proud.

  The metal chains rattled when Switch put his arms up in surrender. “Okay, okay, fuck! I get it. Try to leave and he goes loco. Damn, just tell him to shut up!” Switch yelled over Bookem’s barking.

  Judge clicked his teeth once and all went silent. Bookem paced in front of Judge, his eyes still trained on Switch cowering behind that chair. “That was a warning.” Judge pointed at Switch. If you do something he doesn’t like, he’ll warn you first before he attacks. I suggest you listen. Judge gave Book a sharp quick whistle and watched his companion immediately drop down on his hunches by the door. Judge left closing Switch inside with his new guard. Judge almost laughed when he heard Book growl, easily letting Switch know who was in charge now.

  Judge went to get the rest of the items out of his shot up truck. His heart rate kicked up to abnormal speeds when he saw the shattered mirror on the passenger side and the spots of blood that were on the seat. He closed his eyes and tried to shake the image of Michaels clutching his head and blood flowing down his face. Judge fell against the side of the truck, he’d thought Michaels had been shot. Fuck!

  Judge stormed back inside, dropping their bags on the couch. He burst through the bedroom door and saw that Michaels had cleaned himself up but he still looked completely worn out. He had a towel around his waist and one draped around his neck. His hair was wet and laid back, looking longer than it actually was. His hands were braced on the one dresser in the room with a mirror on top of it his chin resting on his chest like he was asleep standing up. Michaels had cleaned the wound and hade four wound closure strips over it. The scar was red and puffy along with other small superficial nicks and scrapes along his cheek and temple. The bruises were more evident now too. When Michaels looked up and finally met Judge’s eyes, he immediately noticed what was burning behind his ebony-clouded glare.

  Michaels turned slowly and put his arm up as if that was going to ward Judge off. “I’m fine, Judge. Nothing that won’t heal in days.” Michaels whispered.

  “This time.” Judge slammed their door shut and stalked over to Michaels. He gripped both ends of the towel and pulled Michaels into him. He looked down at this man that had completely upheaved his existence, this feisty, untamed badass that would challenge Judge in every way he wanted a man to. But could he handle? His heart, his mind. He was already crazy with emotion right now. Judge carefully placed his forehead to Michaels, mindful of his scar on the far right side. His eyes closed tight, his forehead creased in frustration. “I told you to stay inside the truck.” Judge’s voice was husky and full of emotion that he couldn’t hide.

  Michaels held on tight to Judge’s shoulders. “I was backing you up. They could’ve got on the side and shot through the door. You have to let me do my job, Judge. I am your partner on this.”

  Judge snarled and jerked the towel harder. “Then why were you my lover just a few hours ago?”

  Michaels frowned back at him. Judge didn’t know if it was a look of hurt or anger. “I thought it’s what you wanted.”

  Judge tilted Michaels chin up. “You can’t have both. My lover and my work partner. You can’t be both. It’s impossible. I can’t do it.”

  “Fine. Then I won’t. I’ll only be one.”

  Judge slowly released the towel and stepped back from Michaels’ sexy heat. “Okay.” He sighed, feeling exhausted and tired himself. “Work partners.”

  “You misunderstood.” Michaels took the towel off his hips and let it drop to the floor. “I meant, I’ll only be your lover.”

  Judge swallowed hard. Fuck this man was too damn much. He couldn’t resist Michaels standing there in all his splendid wet nakedness if he tried. If Jesus had come down right now and told Judge to choose him or Michaels, he would’ve quickly condemned his soul to hell. There was nothing he wanted more right now. He closed the distance again and cupped Michaels’ unbruised jaw, tilting him the way he wanted. Judge pressed his mouth against the detectives’ for the very first time. A soft sigh escaped from Michaels’ mouth and Judge slid his tongue in just as easily as he’d done his cock. Fuck. The man’s mouth was so warm and delicious. A taste like he’d never had before. If powerful and wild was an actual taste.

  He wrapped his big arms around Michaels’ strong frame and held him close to him, needing to feel he was safe, he was fine. Dipping his knees down, he went in at another angle, feeling and savoring those plump lips just like he’d wanted from the time he’d met this man. If Michaels was his then he was getting ready to take full fucking advantage of his new possession. Judge’s head swam with control as he devoured Michaels’ mouth, owned it inside and out, licking and nipping all over him. Michaels was passive and compliant, letting Judge have his way with him. When he couldn’t take it anymore he pulled back and gasped for breath.

  Judge moved his mouth across Michaels’ dark blonde stubble, rubbing his own beard against it before going back to tasting. He smelled so clean, ready for the taking, but not right now. Michaels was tired, he could tell. One thing Judge did was take complete care of what was his. He enjoyed Michaels’ moans for a bit longer while he sucked his ear, pushing his tongue inside to sample there too. He snaked his hand down and cupped Michaels’ hard cock, rubbing his thumb around the wetness at the tip. Michaels groaned, snapping his hips harder, seeking out more contact. “You wanna’ be my lover, Austin?” Judge whispered, tracing his tongue around the shell of Michaels’ ear.

  “Yes. Fuck, yes.” Michaels whispered and moaned at the same time.

  Judge gripped the towel still draped around Michaels’ neck and fisted it in his hands, pulling Michaels’ upper body snug against him. Not an inch of space between their large chests. He rubbed his beard against Michaels’ mouth, and felt him thrust his cock forward again. Michaels pulled harder, trying to get Judge to move them towards the large king-sized bed waiting so nicely for them in the center of the room. “You wanna’ be mine?” Judge paused and sucked hard on Michaels tongue, then spoke into his hot mouth. “Then you’ll do what I say.”

  Michaels looked at him. Maybe trying to assess exactly what Judge meant. He was pleased when Michaels nodded his head once. “Good.” Judge kissed Michaels again. Just a little more to satisfy him until after he’d made sure Michaels was rested. Damn, it’d been ages since he’d made out. Forgot how damn intoxicating kissing could be. Michaels’ hands was on his beard, then those nimble fingers threading through the wispy hairs making Judge rock hard.

  It started all over again as an energetic and passionate kiss that went on until it became a spent kiss, until the storm settled and it turned into a languid kiss filled with exhaustion. Judge tore his mouth away and Michaels chased him, pulled him back to him and tugged on Judge’s beard until his mouth opened back up and Michaels dove back in. Judge chuckled lightly while Michaels devoured him. “Sexy bastard.”

  “Fuck me.” Michaels hissed. “Right now.”

  Judge had to exert some of his authority. “No.” He clasped Michaels’ hands and held them in between their chests. “Right now, I’m gonna give you some pain relievers. Then you rest. You’ve been up for almost forty-eight hours.”

  “So have you.” Michaels snapped back. “Besides I already took something. I’m good.”

  Judge held on to Michaels’ wrist with one hand and used the other to weave through Michaels’ damp hair, gripping a handful of it. To soothe the sting, he placed light kisses on Michaels’ bruised side. “Later.” He whispered against the scars.

  Walking Michaels back over to the bed he eased him down on the plush comforter. “Rest, lover.”

  Judge hit the lights on the way out and closed the door.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Michaels woke with a start, huffing trying to catch his breath from the nightmare he was having. He rubbed his hand over his chest, w
iping at the dampness. Goddamnit. He dreamed they were on the run again and this time the thugs had cornered them. He was just about to sacrifice himself so Judge could go free. A loud shot rang in his ears and made him jolt awake right before the bullet pierced his chest.

  It was pitch dark in the room, meaning he must have slept all day. Damn, that’s always what Vicodin did to him. He had a prescription for when he’d hurt his back by tackling a suspect through a window, a few months ago. He grabbed his phone off the end table and saw it was just after eight. He’s slept almost ten hours. The right side of his face was sore, the left side tender with beard burn. Regardless that smiling made his face ache, he couldn’t stop it when he thought about his and Judge’s kiss. That mind-consuming-all-encompassing-soul-searching kiss. And did Judge say that Michaels was his? He was about to find out right now. Damn these bruises. He’d did what he was told. He’d rested. It was time for him to be rewarded for being such a good boy. Michaels smirked. He went in the bathroom and wiped the sweat off him, swished some mouthwash around in his mouth, and went in the main room to find his man.

  There were two large pizza boxes on the kitchen countertop and five or six two-liter sodas. Michaels opened the fridge and saw there was water inside too. Had Judge left and went to the store? What did he do with Switch? Michaels went in the other room and opened the door. He met some resistance at first and then noticed it was Bookem’s massive body blocking it. He was greeted with an energetic nip at his hand and Michaels gave the dog some reassuring pats. Switch was sprawled out on the bed watching television, a glass of soda sat next to him on the night stand and a plate in the bed with only pieces of pizza crusts remaining. Switch didn’t acknowledge him, he just kept his focus on the TV, and so Michaels closed the door.

  Only then did he notice that Judge was asleep, sitting up on the couch. He was slouched down until his head was all the way back against the headrest. He was shirtless, all that dark chest hair making his mouth water. Judge had obviously showered too because he was barefoot and had on a long pair of cutoff sweatpants. He looked so peaceful there in the dark with just the flickering light of the television shining periodically across his ruggedly handsome face.