Blood & Bones: Judge (Blood Fury MC Book 3)

by Jeanne St. James

  Tonight, she’d been on her own, but she’d handled everything smoothly and now had a nice wad of cash in her purse. A nice, thick wad.

  She smiled, but it quickly dropped when headlights bounced off the rearview.

  She was surprised to see him tonight. She figured he’d be at the “patch party” for Dodge since the newest Blood Fury member hadn’t returned before Cassie locked up the bar. She figured that meant the party was still going strong.

  But she should’ve known he’d be there. Parking down the street. Watching her.

  Every night she left Pete’s, he followed her home. Every single night she worked.

  It took a couple of days to figure out it was him. While he kept at a distance, he didn’t totally hide. It wasn’t hard to miss his tail since traffic through town at the time she left Pete’s was pretty much non-existent. It was a small family-oriented town where there wasn’t much going on past dinner time.

  She had left Rochester so she could live in peace. And now, here in Manning Grove, she had a stalker.

  She grabbed her purse and dug for her cell phone. Hitting the power button, her finger hovered over the nine button.

  She should call the police and report him.

  She should.

  But tonight, like every other night recently, he didn’t stay long. The headlights cut through her CRV as he did a U-turn and headed back in the other direction.

  She tossed her cell phone onto the passenger seat and started her SUV again, put it in Drive and did a U-turn of her own.

  She followed him this time. Through town and to a road that led out into the country. She glanced at the street sign as she turned. County Line Road.

  She kept a good distance, barely keeping his taillights in her view until they disappeared when he turned down a lane.

  To a farm.

  She stopped on the road at the end of the lane and watched his Expedition make its way past a large, old farmhouse and then disappear.

  Did he live at this farm?

  She chewed her bottom lip, debating whether to follow him down the lane or just go back to her sister’s house and climb into bed.

  The latter would be the smart thing to do. She was tired and where he lived was none of her business.

  But why he was following her was. That was what she wanted to know. Why the hell this man, who knew her name, who knew she’d been married, was following her home every night.

  He’d only come into the bar that one time.

  Just that once to talk to her.

  When she refused.

  But maybe it was time to get things straight with him.

  She slowly made her way down the rough dirt and stone lane and as she passed the dark farmhouse, she noticed a bunch of other dark buildings. What looked like different sized sheds. Some huge, some small. But what caught her eye was the big barn.

  Maybe that was “The Barn” they talked about. The MC’s clubhouse.

  As she drove closer, she noticed the building didn’t have any windows on the lower level and the large ones on the second floor were dark.

  Maybe the party was over.

  But vehicles were still parked haphazardly around the outside. However, Judge’s Ford was not one of them.

  Where did he go?

  She turned off her headlights, using the December moon to light her way around the building. She headed along the right side, away from what looked like a courtyard with 55 gallon drums scattered around the area and a pavilion.

  The building was surprisingly long and another newer looking building was attached to the back. Again, no windows except for a couple on the second floor.

  She kept the Honda at a crawl as she got to the back corner and hooked a left. Then she slammed on the brakes as she almost hit a dark figure.

  A big one.

  With hands on his hips and long, endless legs spread apart.

  Shit.

  Before she could put the vehicle in reverse, he moved. She tried to move faster, her hand shaking as she shoved the shifter forward, but as her foot left the brake, the passenger side door opened, and he jumped in.

  She slammed her foot back on the brake pedal. “Get out!”

  “Why you followin’ me?” His deep voice and his larger than life presence made her SUV feel tiny.

  “Why are you following me?” she countered.

  Damn, he smelled like pot, beer and... leather. Plus, a mix of other things. That combo should be a huge turn-off, but on him, for some reason, it wasn’t.

  It was better than cologne, hair gel and shoe polish.

  So much better. Since it was real and not fake.

  She swallowed down the lump in her throat. “Get out of my car.”

  “Cassie, why you here?”

  “Because... Because I want to know why you’re following me.”

  The only sound she heard was the beating of her heart in her ears.

  He was so close.

  Too close.

  And he was so not her type. But her heart wouldn’t stop pounding. “You... You had me worried.”

  “If you were worried, woulda called the pigs,” he grumbled.

  “Pigs?”

  “Cops.”

  She tightened both hands on the steering wheel and stared straight out of the windshield. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t. He was too close. Just inches away. “Just tell me why. Tell me how you knew my name. How you knew I’d been married. Why do you know any of that? Why do you even care to know?”

  “Where’s your girl?”

  She blinked, not expecting that. She took a breath, her lungs filling with his scent, and turned her head to face him. “In bed. Asleep.” Where Daisy was every night when she got home from Crazy Pete’s.

  “She good for a bit?”

  Cassie frowned, wondering why he’d ask that. “Yes. My sister and her husband are home with her.”

  “Means you got time to talk.”

  That wasn’t a question, it was stated as a fact. “Only if you tell me what I want to know.” And that was a fact, too.

  “Gonna tell you that. And more.” He reached over and shoved the shifter into Park, turned the key and pulled it from the ignition. Instead of giving it to her, he closed his fist around it and climbed out of the Honda. He leaned down into the open doorway and said, “C’mon.”

  She stared at him. Could she trust him? He was part of the same club as Dodge, Stella and Trip. And she would’ve hoped Dodge would have warned her about him the other night if he was untrustworthy.

  Wouldn’t he have?

  Or was their brotherhood strong enough that they covered for each other? That Dodge wouldn’t snitch on his “brother” about him being some sort of psycho stalker.

  But Cassie’s gut wasn’t telling her any of that.

  Though, she didn’t completely trust her gut anymore. Not after finding out Dennis had hidden his gambling problem for years.

  Years.

  She had been that blind to it.

  A total fucking fool.

  “Where are we going?” Because that’s what a normal person would ask, right? Not just get out of her CRV in the middle of the night, in the dark, and follow some biker without knowing where?

  He straightened, shut the passenger-side door, and came around to her side. She could lock the doors, but since he had the key, that would do no good. And he wasn’t going to hurt her. He could’ve done that in the dark lot that night. Or one of the many nights he followed her home.

  He opened her door. “C’mon.” He jutted his big hand into the Honda.

  She stared at it for a second, then unlatched her seatbelt. She sat in the seat for another couple of breaths before she finally put her hand in his.

  It was so big. She swore it was twice the size of hers.

  His fingers curled around hers with a gentle strength and he helped her out of the SUV.

  “Where are we going?” she asked again, thinking a sane woman would need to know this first.

 
“To talk.”

  “We can talk in the car.”

  “We could. But we ain’t.” Keeping a grip on her hand, he pulled her along with him toward the metal stairs at the back of the building. He stopped at the bottom, released her hand and jerked his chin toward the steps. “Up there.”

  Her gaze rose up the metal stairway. At the top landing were two doors and two large picture windows, both dark. “What’s up there?”

  “You always ask so many fuckin’ questions?”

  “Well, this situation kind of warrants a lot of questions.”

  “Not gonna hurt you.”

  “You keep saying that.”

  “And you don’t believe it.”

  No, she did. But that didn’t mean she should do something stupid and regret doing that stupid thing later.

  “I’d take you into The Barn to talk but thinkin’ that might not be the best place for privacy since there was a party tonight. Not sure who or what’s left behind...”

  “Dodge hadn’t returned before I left.”

  Judge snorted. “Yeah. There’s a reason for that. You and Stel might be runnin’ the bar tomorrow by yourselves.”

  “Did he get drunk?”

  His lips twitched. “Among other fuckin’ things.”

  “A patch party’s a big deal, right?”

  “Big fuckin’ deal,” he confirmed.

  “You didn’t get drunk.”

  He said nothing.

  “Because you had to drive.”

  Again nothing.

  “Because you’ve been following me home every night after work.”

  Still nothing. He just jerked his head toward the steps again.

  She sighed, took a deep breath and climbed them. With each step, her heart pounded a little more.

  At the landing, he grabbed a folding chair from near the door on the right and moved it next to the single chair that sat by the door on the left.

  “Warm enough to sit out here for a few?”

  The night was crisp, but the wind wasn’t blowing so it was bearable. Living in Rochester, she was used to the cold. “Yes.”

  “Then sit.”

  He dug into his pocket, pulled out a key and opened the door on the left. “Just need to be quiet since Red and Sig are probably sleepin’.”

  She had no idea who Red and Sig were and he didn’t explain.

  One of the American Bulldogs he had with him the other night rushed out with a soft whine, nudged Judge in the crotch with its nose and an enthusiastic tail wag. “Go pop a squat,” he ordered. The large dog rushed down the steps and into the dark.

  He shut the door quietly and settled into one of the folding chairs, which complained under his weight.

  She sat next to him, staring out into the dark, trying to find the dog. “Where’s the other one?”

  “With Deacon.”

  “Who’s Deacon?”

  “My cousin.”

  “Is he also a member of your gang?”

  “Club,” Judge grunted.

  “Is there a difference?”

  “A big one.”

  Though she was curious about that, it wasn’t what Cassie wanted to know from him. She could get that clarification from Dodge or Stella at another time.

  He dug his hand under his leather vest—a “cut” was what Dodge had called it—and pulled out a small container and a Zippo lighter. A second later he was lighting up a joint.

  A joint.

  Holy shit. She had a sudden flashback to her high school days.

  He took a big inhale, held it for a surprisingly long time, then tipped his head back and blew the smoke up into the night.

  He took another long hit, then held it out to her.

  She stared at it like it was a copperhead snake. He was offering her drugs? She wasn’t sure about the legality of pot in Pennsylvania.

  “I... I haven’t smoked pot since I was... younger.”

  Even in the limited light, she could see his grin. “Quit tobacco years ago. Besides booze, this is my only vice.”

  “Most people nowadays wouldn’t even call it a vice since it’s used as medicine.” The laws around marijuana had definitely loosened since she smoked it when she was younger. It wasn’t that big of a deal anymore.

  “Yeah, it’s my medicine.”

  She raised her gaze from his hand holding the joint to his face to see if he was being serious. He was.

  “It’s good shit.”

  She stared at the hand-rolled in his fingers again as he held it out to her. She shook her head. She wanted to keep her wits about her while they had this “talk,” so now was not the best time to smoke pot since she had no idea how it would affect her. She’d probably been about twenty the last time she smoked any. And even then, it was only when her friends had it. She never smoked it on a regular basis.

  He was taking another hit when the dog ran back up the steps and went directly to her, forcing its way between her thighs and planting—Cassie did a quick gender check—her head on her lap. Her hands automatically began ruffling her ears. The bulldog groaned, her tail held up like a flag and wagging slowly, her eyes on Cassie’s.

  “What’s her name?”

  Judge pinched the joint out and tucked it away. “Jury.”

  “Jury?” That was a strange name for a dog.

  “Yeah.”

  “Judge and Jury,” Cassie whispered.

  “Yeah. We’re a team.”

  She smiled as she stroked the big blocky head. A man who loved dogs couldn’t be all that bad, right?

  “She’s sweet.”

  Judge was staring at Cassie’s hand as it slid over his dog’s short, smooth coat. “Yeah. When she wants to be. She’s got a good instinct about people. So does Justice.”

  “Justice?”

  “Deke’s dog.”

  “Were they litter mates? They have the same markings.”

  “Yeah.”

  She ran her hand down Jury’s smooth back. “I used to be a vet tech,” she whispered. Used to be. When her life was together. When she thought everything was set, everything was neatly planned. Her family. Her career. Her life.

  How foolish she had been to think her life had been perfect. That her path had been set in stone.

  His next words made Cassie’s hands still. “I know.”

  Judge surged to his feet and Jury quickly pulled away from Cassie, watching her daddy’s every move.

  Judge tipped his head toward the door. “C’mon. It’s fuckin’ cold out. We both got questions that need answers.”

  Cassie wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. Even so, she definitely needed some answers.

  She followed him inside into what turned out to be a small apartment. The open front room was a living area with a couch, a few tables, a large screen TV on the wall, an old stereo system in one corner and, toward what looked like a short hallway, a kitchenette. Probably the perfect size for a single guy.

  Or a man she assumed was single.

  The apartment was pretty sparse with no décor or photos, just the basics. It wasn’t filthy, but it wasn’t perfectly clean, either.

  The first thing he did was shrug out of his cut and hang it on a hook by the front door, then slid his knit beanie off his head and tossed it on a nearby table, where he also placed his keys. But not hers. Her car key was still buried deep in his front pocket.

  He brushed a hand over his hair, which was not at all what she expected. With as long as his beard was, she assumed he was hiding a bunch of hair under his beanie. He wasn’t. Actually, she was surprised with just how short it was clipped.

  She wondered how he would look with it in reverse, with longer hair and a much shorter beard. With the facial structure she could see, he’d probably be fighting off women.

  Hell, maybe he was now. There were plenty of women who were into long beards like that.

  Even Daisy, at five, was fascinated by it. Daisy’s mother, not so much.

  But that was not why she was there in th
is apartment.

  That was not why she was there in his apartment.

  Without his cut, the off-white thermal he wore hugged his broad chest and thick arms snuggly. He was clearly solid, without the beer belly she expected from a biker. She figured they did nothing but party all the time. But no, this man did not have any kind of belly at all.

  Unlike hers, which was bigger than she’d like. She’d been a lot smaller before she became pregnant with Daisy. Motherhood had filled her out just about everywhere.

  Dennis had suggested she join a gym after Daisy was born, but Cassie was too exhausted to work out after working full-time, taking care of the house and raising her sassy daughter.

  For the first couple of years, Dennis was involved. With Cassie. With the house. With their daughter.

  Then three years ago, he began to pull away and get distant.

  Cassie thought it was her weight that bothered him. That he was no longer attracted to her. That having a child, and also her weight gain, had destroyed their intimacy.

  Many nights when she reached out to him, he’d turn his back to her and say he was too tired. And every time that happened, she vowed to join that gym and get back into shape.

  But she never did.

  And they became more distant. Less like a married couple and more like roommates who weren’t even friends.

  “Cassie.”

  She mentally shook herself and saw he’d moved closer. Now just a couple of feet away, he was looking at her with concern, those beautiful green eyes searching.

  “You okay?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “Not gonna hurt you.”

  “I know.”

  “Wanna take off your coat?” He stepped even closer, holding out his large hand. She studied it. No jewelry in sight. Unlike Dodge, Cage and Trip, who all wore a few bulky rings and sometimes leather wrist bands.

  But as he held out his hand, the sleeve of his thermal slid up enough for her to see a tattoo circling his wrist. She wondered how many he had.

  “Will I be here long?”

  “Depends on you.” His voice—that rolling thunder—rumbled and it made heat swirl through her belly.

  “You’re the one with my car key.”

  He stepped up to her until they were practically toe to toe and slipped his hands under her coat to slide it off her shoulders. The whole time his face was tipped down to hers. Unreadable.