Jude's Law

by Lori Foster

These men looked… more than malicious. If Tim had to describe bloodlust, he’d point out the eyes boring into him right now. “Why do you want in?”

  An iron fist sank into his midsection, forcing all the air out of his lungs and making him almost hurl. He doubled over in god-awful pain. He hadn’t had a chance to entirely heal from the last beating…

  The last beating. That’s why Vic seemed so familiar. He was the one from the car, the one who’d—

  A tight hand knotted in Tim’s shirtfront, bringing him upright again, and hands gently dusted him off. “Now, Tim, let’s try this again.” Vic’s tone was absurdly kind, which only escalated Tim’s fear. “How do we get in?”

  Panic tried to steal his thoughts, but then Tim remembered the clothes May wore and… “Delivery men,” he wheezed.

  “What’s that? Speak up, man. There’s no reason to whisper. After all”—he patted Tim’s cheek— “we’re all alone here.”

  Cold sweat popped out on Tim’s forehead as he fought to keep from puking. “He… Jude bought my sister new clothes.” Oh God, he was such a coward. “There’ve been… delivery guys… coming and going.”

  “Ah.” Vic nodded. “So all I need is a delivery van, or something that looks like a delivery van, and I can coast on in. Good to know.”

  Why would they need in unless they intended to kill Jude? Tim squeezed his eyes shut. He hated Jude, but he didn’t want a murder on his conscience. And his sister… poor May. She meant well. He couldn’t just sell her out. He had to at least try.

  Brain cramping, Tim forced himself to look directly at the man—and lie. “I heard Jude say something… I don’t know. Something about more clothes coming tomorrow. In the morning.” If he could just buy himself some time, he could warn the others. He’d think of some way to do it without incriminating himself.

  “Nice try, Tim. But you’re a shitty liar. I see it in your eyes, you know.” Vic smiled. “And in the way you’re shaking.”

  Tim’s stomach dropped to his knees. “No, I wouldn’t—”

  “Jamison’s been a thorn in my side for too long. Now, thanks to you, I can get him.” Still smiling like a preacher, Vic reached into his pocket and withdrew something gold. It had a low luster and looked to weigh about half a pound—

  Brass knuckles.

  Tim heaved, already feeling that cold metal slamming into his face.

  Vic worked them onto his left hand, flexing his fingers and taunting Tim. “Of course, now that I’ve told you my intent, you have to go.”

  Tim shook his head and squeezed a faint protest from the constriction in his throat. “You can’t.”

  “Of course I can.”

  “But… like you said, I lied. My sister knows I came here, she’ll know what happened—”

  “I don’t think so, Tim. She’s so infatuated with that bastard Jamison, she’d have stopped you. But either way, it doesn’t matter. I have plans for that bitch as well.”

  Oh God, oh God, oh God. What had he done? Why had he been so stupid? They’d all the because of him.

  Vic intended to beat him to death. He’d use that awful contraption now decorating his meaty fist, and he’d turn his flesh into hamburger. Would anyone even be able to recognize him when Vic finished? Against a man like that, Tim was helpless.

  Vic tsked. “Look at you, Tim. You’re turning green.” He reached into his other pocket and withdrew more knuckles for his right hand. He held them up like a mirror, admiring his distorted image in the shine. “I’m going to enjoy this, Tim. I take great pride in my work.”

  A fuzzy blackness closed in around Tim, and he knew any second now he’d faint. He almost welcomed it as a way to escape the punishment that would come.

  Then something Denny and Jude told him suddenly popped into his head.

  When you’re going to fight, you fight. You don’t talk about it.

  Vic continued taunting Tim about the difficulty he often had getting blood off the knuckles. He told Tim he could devastate his internal organs with some well-placed shots.

  Breath choppy and heart hammering, Tim slowly looked up. Just because he’d the today, he didn’t have to make it easy for them.

  He locked his gaze on Vic, and when Vic paused, surprised at his boldness, Tim growled, “Fuck off, you psychopath.”

  And with that, he kicked as fast and hard as he could—and got lucky enough to land his foot in Vic’s crotch.

  A high-pitched, girlish scream of agony split the air, thrilling Tim, bolstering his confidence and seldom felt courage.

  When Vic doubled over, Tim launched himself at the fellow who stood right behind him. But his triumphant counterattack proved short lived.

  They hit the ground hard, jarring every bone in Tim’s body, and with embarrassing ease, the man turned and pinned Tim to the ground. A fist, thankfully bare of metal, smashed his jaw, once, twice.

  Stars circled and danced; black oblivion beckoned.

  And then the man somehow flew away from Tim.

  Automatically rolling to his side in the fetal position, Tim choked on his own blood while sucking in much-needed oxygen. Noise exploded around him, dull thuds, hollow grunts, but he couldn’t comprehend it, not with his nose bleeding again and his head pounding.

  A body tripped over him, causing him more pain, and Tim looked up to see Denny in action.

  He forgot about breathing.

  Like a grim, avenging angel, Denny fought with methodical deliberation. Every strike seemed preplanned but also instantaneous.

  Unwilling to miss it, Tim half sat up and scrambled like a crab out of the way. In no time at all, two men were down, unmoving, still as death.

  Jude hit a guy in the temple, then kicked out his knee; the man crumpled. Denny kicked another in the face, causing him to sink to the ground in an awkward heap. Neither Jude nor Denny breathed hard. Incredible.

  When a light flashed in Tim’s eyes, he glanced around and found some bozo taking photographs.

  Another old geezer stood off to the side, gun drawn, casual competence displayed in his stance and expression.

  And next to them stood Tim’s sister, pale as a ghost, hugging herself tight while dancing in place. Tim saw tears in her eyes, and emotional pain.

  All in all, she acted like a woman, except Tim suspected she held herself back so that she wouldn’t jump into the fray.

  For some reason, maybe a touch of hysteria, Tim found that hilarious. He could almost picture May leaping in, fists drawn. If it happened, he’d put his bucks on May.

  If his mouth hadn’t already swollen too much to let his lips curve, Tim would have laughed.

  Man, he’d messed up big time. Not only had he offered Jude as a sacrifice, but he could have gotten his sister murdered, and he wouldn’t have lived to tell about it. He didn’t blame any of them for hating him. How could they not? They wouldn’t understand his predicament. They wouldn’t realize that he was afraid and only trying to stay alive.

  Maybe he should sneak off while they were all preoccupied. They’d be glad to see the last of him. They wouldn’t miss him. They wouldn’t care that he was gone.

  But… Denny hadn’t let him die. Sure, he and Jude had taken their time, letting him lose a year off his life out of sheer terror. And thanks to getting punched in the face, he’d be hurting for another week.

  But they hadn’t abandoned him.

  They hadn’t even let him get beaten real bad. When Tim imagined those solid, cold brass knuckles tearing his flesh and cracking his bones, his stomach heaved again. If Jude and Denny hadn’t intervened when they did, he would have had some serious injuries.

  He felt like an asshole. Worse, he felt contemptible.

  He’d spare them all and leave now. Maybe hide away somewhere so they’d never find him. That’d surely make them happy. May despised helping him. Jude made his disgust well known…

  Sirens blasted the air, startling Tim, and then he lost his chance to escape.

  Knuckles bloody, Denny came to stand over h
im. Tim was too ashamed and too intimidated to look at him, until Denny held out a hand and said, “Men don’t cower, you fool. Now, stand up before the cops see what a baby girl you’re being.”

  Thunderstruck, Tim glanced up and saw only the thrill of the fight in Denny’s eyes. No revulsion. No hostility.

  Denny didn’t hate him?

  An insult had never felt so good.

  Gingerly, Tim took the proffered hand; Denny hauled him to his feet and dusted him off in a way that hurt worse than the blows had. But Tim didn’t complain.

  “Dumb shit,” Denny muttered.

  Tim ran a hand over his head, sheepish and scared and relieved enough to feel like collapsing. “I’m sorry, all right?”

  “Sorry it didn’t work out as you planned. But I swear to God, boy, if I have to, I’m going to beat some common sense and honor into you. And don’t think I can’t. I’ve worked with worse hard-ons than you. Guys come to the SBC because they’re angry, or lost. Some of them have criminal records. I teach them control, how to channel that energy. In comparison,” he said, giving Tim a slap on the side of the head, “you’re no more than a cupcake.”

  Tim rubbed at his stinging ear and thought of the moment he’d defended himself. That little bit of control had been… empowering.

  Now that he knew he wouldn’t die, remembering it made him feel good. “Okay.”

  Denny continued to scowl. With hair mussed, displaying the tattoo on his skull, and that particular look on his face, he resembled a lunatic. A crazed lunatic.

  Until he grinned.

  “At least I know you listened to some of what I said.” A rough, gravelly laugh slipped out. “Swear to God, boy, the way you nutted that bastard really made my day. He’ll be singing like a soprano for a week.”

  A tiny flare of hope burst to life inside Tim. Could he salvage this mess, after all? Maybe Denny would be in his corner. “You said not to talk about it, to just do it.” Enthusiasm ripened. “I knew he’d kick my ass.”

  Denny snorted. “He was going to kill you.”

  Knowing it to be true, Tim gulped. “Right. So I figured, what the hell. No reason to make it easy for him.”

  “You’re learning.” And Denny slung his arm around him.

  Behind Denny, Jude slapped Vic’s face until he came around. The second Vic blinked, Jude demanded, “Where’s Elton?”

  Vic grimaced. “Elton who?”

  “Funny, Real funny.”

  “Fuck off, Jamison.”

  Jude laughed, impressing the hell out of Tim. He looked to be in a very controlled, icy rage, but still he laughed.

  “You’re too stupid to realize that it’s all over, huh, Vic? Yeah, I know your name. I heard everything you said to Tim. I know damn good and well Elton sent you.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You want to be that way, fine. I’m happy to let the cops deal with you. They’re swarming down the hill right now.” Jude’s eyes glittered with malevolence. “Just imagine what Elton’s reaction will be once he knows they’ve got you.”

  Vic groaned, locked his teeth, and turned his face away.

  “You’re in a lose-lose situation, bud. Either the cops lock you up, or they let you go and Elton has you taken off at the knees. One way or another, you stop being a problem to me.”

  Ed Burton stepped forward. “I’ve got it all on tape, Jude. Every single word. It’ll be in the morning edition of every paper I can reach.”

  “You haven’t got shit,” Vic yelled, and he started to struggle. “I haven’t said a damn thing.”

  Jude put a knee to his chest, keeping him still. “Maybe not.” His smile turned lethal. “But will Elton believe that after Ed runs his story?”

  Ah, Tim thought, watching as Jude easily subdued Vic. Clever of him to get a reporter involved. But then, Jude always seemed to be two steps ahead of everyone else—one of the reasons Tim despised him. Or somewhat despised him.

  Most of all, he envied him.

  Suddenly, police swarmed the area, guns drawn, and Tim watched it all in fascination. Jude identified himself, let the cops take custody of Vic, then answered questions with practiced ease. As soon as the police finished grilling him, he went to May. He hugged her close, kissed her in front of God and everyone, and then led her to a fallen log to sit down. He pampered her, as if she’d been the one in the fight. But she didn’t have blood on her face. She didn’t have aching ribs.

  Gallant bastard. Okay, so he more than envied Jude. He admired him. He wished he could be more like him.

  Maybe, just maybe, Denny could make it happen.

  Chapter 20

  May fretted. Jude was so quiet on the ride home. He seemed very aware of Tim following along behind them, and she just knew he wanted to take Tim apart.

  Not that she blamed him. Tim had endangered them all. As the police had pointed out during their lengthy interrogation, they could have all ended up dead.

  But not once did Jude or Denny act rattled. Tim, on the other hand, stammered and stuttered and had a terrible time keeping his story straight. At one point, he’d even gotten tears in his eyes. Denny had snapped at him. Jude had just looked repulsed.

  She’d known all along that her family was impossible to take. She hadn’t known that Tim would keep endangering Jude’s life.

  May touched his thigh. “Jude?”

  The black scowl disappeared, and he smiled at her. “Yeah?”

  “Are you okay?”

  He gave her a quick kiss. “Not a scratch.”

  “But that’s not what I mean.”

  “I know. Yeah, I’m fine. I just… I feel like this isn’t quite finished.”

  “The cops believed you. They’re going to talk to Elton. They’re going to watch him.”

  Jude nodded—but he looked far from satisfied.

  With a sigh, May guessed, “You want to confront Elton yourself.”

  He didn’t reply, but she knew that was it. Did she have the right to protect him from something that meant so much? No. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed her brother. When Tim answered, she said, “Where’s Elton’s hotel?”

  Jude stared at her, amazed.

  Tim stammered in confusion.

  Denny chuckled.

  “Come on, Tim,” May told him, while keeping her gaze on Jude. “We know you contacted him somehow. Vic might not have admitted it, but Elton sent him to meet you. So, where’s he staying?”

  A strange expression passed over Jude’s face as she nodded, agreed to let Tim stay on their tail, and disconnected the call. “Unless Elton has moved, he’s at the Royal Plaza. That’s all the way downtown. It’ll take a while to get there.”

  New tension vibrated off Jude. “You don’t mind if I go?”

  The mere suggestion almost made May laugh. Had their relationship progressed to where Jude now took her feelings into consideration before putting himself at risk?

  Magnanimous, she said, “I know it’s something you need to do.” She fashioned a smile. “I’ll be good and wait in the car.”

  His face went blank. “No.” His brows snapped down. “Hell no. I’ll take you home first.”

  Of course he would. “Your home?” she inquired with false politeness. “I don’t think so.”

  “Yes, my home.” His scowl turned blacker than ever. “Where the hell else would I take you?”

  “My home?”

  Outraged by the idea, he opened his mouth—and his cell phone rang. “Damn it,” he snapped, “it’s like Grand Central Station anymore with these stupid phones.” He dug the cell out of his pocket and barked, “Yeah?” His brows shot up. “Ashley. Sorry. I didn’t… he is?”

  “What?” May asked. “What’s going on?”

  Jude settled back in his seat. “Yeah, we’re not that far from you. I’ll be there soon as I can. If he takes off, let me know. And, Ashley? Be careful. Stay the hell away from him, okay? Yeah, thanks.” Jude disconnected the phone, then hesitated.


  The way he glanced at May, she knew the conversation had to be about Elton. “Is he back at the restaurant then?”

  Denny laughed. “You see? Once you know someone, it’s easy to read him.”

  She remembered being surprised at how easily Denny knew her thoughts. “I suppose.”

  Urgency replaced Jude’s tension. “Ashley’s shift just started. She said Elton was there when she arrived. He’d finished his lunch but ordered coffee and dessert.”

  “We should tell the police. They said they want to talk to him.”

  “Yeah, we will,” Denny told her. “In a few minutes.”

  Jude’s hands curled into fists. “The son of a bitch probably figured he’d make a public appearance. That way he’d have witnesses to swear he wasn’t anywhere near Tim when…” He faltered, allowing that thought to fester.

  May closed her eyes. “When Tim got murdered?”

  Strong hands cupped May’s face. “I can end this, May. But I don’t want you anywhere near him.”

  She pressed her cheek into his palm. “If I’m with you, I’ll be safe.”

  Her conviction left him speechless.

  “She’s right,” Denny said. “Let’s call Ed and get him over there. Right before we go in, we’ll let the cops know. That should buy us a few minutes.”

  Jude fought the idea, but in the end he knew they were right. He spent the rest of the ride making May swear she’d stay glued to his side, that she’d cut and run if things went sideways—which she would never do—and that she’d follow his lead in all things.

  Fifteen minutes later, they pulled into the restaurant lot with Tim and Ed parking alongside them. He didn’t even glance at Tim, but he spoke quietly with Ed, then with Denny. Finally, he dialed the police to alert them to Elton’s presence.

  Overall, they made a solemn group, entering the restaurant together with Jude and Denny in the lead.

  May spotted Ashley right off. She stood with her arms crossed, waiting near the kitchen entrance. And there at a corner table, circled by a small army of suited men, was Elton Pascal.

  The second her gaze landed on him, May felt apprehensive. Elton fit her perception of him to a tee—right down to the sense of evil that clung to him like a dirty film.