by Layla Frost
But I didn’t. I sat. I drank. I laughed. I enjoyed the loyalty and bond they shared. And I let myself pretend I was a part of it.
Not all the brothers were happy I was there, but thanks to that loyalty—and the glares from Judge—they were civil in their mistrust.
Surprisingly—or maybe not—that included Jury. He’d barely said a word to me, though he seemed to study me almost as much as his brother did. Even though Nox had researched me thoroughly, I got the feeling Jury still didn’t trust me. It made me wonder if he was the one who’d had his heart broken. Or maybe he was just protective of his brother.
Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter because Judge and I weren’t anything. Minus the one night sitting on his lap, he hadn’t touched me. His focus had been elsewhere, and though he’d stopped to patiently answer my fifty billion and three questions, he was obviously preoccupied.
“Out?” I asked, working hard to keep my voice even despite the thrill shooting through me.
I’d never been a homebody. Nursing school and then actually being a nurse had sucked up a lot of my time, but when I had the chance and our schedules lined up, I enjoyed my nights out with friends.
And even when it was just me, I had no shame in my solo game. I ate out alone. I went to movies alone. I shopped and explored and shopped some more. All alone.
The time in the clubhouse had been a nice break—especially once Judge made someone pick up the books I’d been wanting to read but hadn’t gotten around to. But I was ready to get out, I didn’t even care where.
“Yeah. Drinks at a bar one of my buddies owns.”
I looked down at my capri leggings and loose tee that I’d spilled coffee on that morning.
And maybe butter from Swedes’ homemade pancakes that were even better than his waffles.
And definitely hot sauce from my wrap.
I’m a garbage person.
“Uh, when’re we leaving?” I asked, fighting the urge to touch the messy bun—emphasis on the messy—that flopped around on the top of my head.
“Five minutes.”
“What?” I practically shrieked, jumping up.
“Fuckin’ with you. Not for three hours.”
I flopped back down on the bed and gave him the finger. “You’re a jerk.”
“Not a psycho?”
Rolling my head to look at him, my eyes caught on the smirk that pulled at his lips.
God, he’s charming.
How bad could danger really be?
“No, you’re that, too,” I said, standing and turning away before I did something stupid.
Like admitting I missed him touching me.
Like asking him to kiss me.
Like allowing myself to sink into the mayhem he brought to my life.
Judge’s heat hit my back as he stopped close. “Casual bar. Lots of bikers, rockers. Low-key.”
“Thanks,” I whispered, surprised he’d thought to tell me since I hadn’t even thought to ask. But that kind of info was vital to me deciding what to wear.
My eyes landed on the bags of personal care items and even personal-er underwear. My dry skin was screaming for some moisturizer, but I’d yet to dip into the pretties. And, other than the most basic and comfortable underthings, I hadn’t dipped into the fun or sexy underwear, either.
And it was fun and sexy. He’d clearly noted my preference when he’d been in my apartment. I’d always loved the feminine feel that came from wearing something cute or sexy under my clothes. That had grown when I’d gotten hired at Elder Oaks because nurses had to wear the same gray-blue scrubs.
But underneath? I was bright and wild or soft and pretty.
On principle, I’d left the bags mostly untouched, but I was going to a rocker bar. For my own comfort, I couldn’t roll in looking like I’d rolled out… of bed. I didn’t want to be self-conscious and miserable the whole time.
It had nothing to do with wanting to look good for Judge. Or that we were going to a place his friend owned.
At least, that’s what I told myself because, clearly, I didn’t have Judge’s hang-up about lying.
Grabbing the massive bag of toiletries and makeup, I pretended not to see Judge or his victorious smirk as I walked to the bathroom with my head held high.
_______________
Lifting onto my tiptoes, I checked myself out in the mirror above the sink.
After taking entirely too long in the shower, I’d rushed back into the bedroom, relieved that it and the hallway had both been empty since I’d only been wrapped in a towel. Since most of what he’d packed had been skirts, simple skinny jeans—with strategically designed rips, not worn ones—and a black, scoop neck tee had been the most casual outfit. I only had my slip-on canvas shoes, so that choice had been easy.
Already in for a penny by using the luxury toiletries, I’d gone all in for a pound with the undies—zeroing in on the strappy hot pink set I’d forced myself to ignore when I’d been sticking to the basics.
The lacey covered cups were delicate and pretty, but the straps that crossed over the swells of my breasts made it edgy and sexy—especially since they were still visible with my shirt on.
Doing my makeup had taken the longest, mostly because I’d wanted to use everything all at once, and that just wasn’t possible… Well, not unless I wanted to look like a clown.
I’d narrowed it down to only a fifth of the products, and I was happy with the results. I looked good. More importantly, I felt like myself.
Excitement bubbling through my veins like champagne, I made my way into the family room to look for Judge. Finding it empty, I was walking toward the kitchen when my eyes landed on the back hallway. At the top of the small set of stairs, I saw the meeting room.
And I was able to see said meeting room thanks to the partially open door.
Scanning for anyone, I slowly side-stepped in that direction. And then I stepped a little faster.
And then I speed-walked.
I climbed the stairs but paused outside the door, caught between my curiosity and my respect for the club’s personal space.
One little peek won’t hurt…
Going for a compromise, I kept my feet planted firmly and pushed the door open. When no one yelled at me, I leaned in to get a better look.
A large stained-glass window bathed the room in hazy light, making the twirling beams and carved detailing creepy, as though the ghost of some old priest was going to float out of the wall.
The space itself was empty other than a long table with chairs. The wood was beautiful and dark, and the legs looked like intricate gavels.
I wonder if one of the brothers made it.
Leaning in farther, I scanned the rest, but there was nothing.
It was… a room.
Well, that’s underwhelming.
“What’re we looking for?”
The whisper was so close to my ear, I could feel their breath. I yelped and jolted, pressing my ass against them in the process. I jumped again, landing in the room as I spun around to see Judge still leaning forward.
“I was just looking for you,” I half-lied, hurriedly stepping back out.
“In the empty room? Didja think I was playing hide and seek in there?”
“I dunno what you do with your free time.”
His eyes darkened and he took a step toward me. “How ‘bout I show you what I wanna do?”
Tilting my head back because taking my eyes off him for even a millisecond would be a mistake, my voice was breathy when I asked, “Don’t we have to leave?”
“In a minute.” Weaving his fingers through my still damp hair, he glanced down and muttered, “Was hopin’ for the skirt.”
“What?”
“Nothin’,” he said, meeting my eyes. “You look good.”
“The, uhh, stuff you got was perfect. Thank you.”
“It’s not that shit that makes you look good.”
Nervously, I licked my desert of a bottom lip.
Judge’s
gaze dropped again, locking onto my mouth as if it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.
I could relate because watching him watch it was the most fascinating thing I’d ever seen.
He took a small step closer until his body was nearly touching mine.
Is he gonna kiss me?
Am I gonna kiss him?
“See anything good?” he asked.
Is he referring to himself? Was I staring longer than I thought?
My lust-muddled brain tried to get back on track. “What?”
He tilted his head toward the room. “Didja see anything good?”
“Nope. Boring.”
“Were you expecting a room filled with drugs, a traveling craps game, and neatly stacked and stored hookers?”
“Some illegal fireworks. A few bootleg DVDs. Maybe mattresses with the tags cut off would’ve been nice, too.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
I raised a shoulder. “It’s fine… I guess.”
He grinned, but did it letting me go.
I’d asked Judge what he did for a living but had never questioned what his club did—even though it was a good bet they didn’t just go on Sunday afternoon rides together after brunch. At first, it’d been out of self-preservation because the less I knew, the better.
Then, it’d been because I hadn’t wanted to know. Judge, Court of Mayhem, and Nox were definitely the lesser of two evils compared to Nash. I’d wrapped that security around myself and settled into the safety they’d offered—even if it was kinda by force initially.
But everything seemed… different. The lines had blurred so badly, it was impossible to tell what I was feeling.
And the only way for me to decide was to know the truth.
Gripping the sides of Judge’s cut, I blurted, “Out of curiosity, does that mean there’s nothing illegal happening here?”
He studied me for long, silent moments before saying, “Wouldn’t say that.”
It was my turn to be quiet for a moment as I debated whether I really wanted the answers.
Whether they really mattered.
Because if I was only there until Nash was out of the picture, I didn’t need to know anything. It didn’t matter.
Not unless I was interested in more than temporary sanctuary.
Watching him carefully, I asked, “Is Nash after you because you’re the competition?”
“No, he’s out for money, power, connections, and insider info.”
My shoulders slumped a little. “So you don’t, uh, work in his three areas?”
“Wouldn’t say that, either.”
Lead filled my stomach, pushing bile up to burn my throat as disgust coated my mouth in bitterness.
I dropped my hands and moved to step away, but he curled an arm around me so his palm was pressed to my lower back, his other hand spearing into my hair.
“What we do is really fuckin’ different than what that piece of shit does,” Judge practically growled.
“How?”
“Back in the day, we used to help run prescription drugs, gettin’ them to people who needed them. Still do, but it’s rare after some shit went down.”
“That doesn’t count,” I said, relief making my head swim.
Judge’s brows raised. “What?”
“Do you jack the prices up like that punchable face Pharma-bro?”
“No, it’s bought at cost, and we don’t take a cut.”
“Then that definitely doesn’t count. The system is flawed and fucked. I’ve always been lucky enough to have insurance thanks to my parents and now my job. But my roommate in college didn’t have any coverage, so if she got sick, I’d go to the doctor and pretend they were my symptoms.” I tried to rein in my emotions until I confirmed. “Is that it?”
That time when he closed the distance between us, he didn’t stop until my body was tight to his and I could feel him.
All of him.
The many hard inches of him, curving along his pelvis, caught between us.
My lips parted as I inhaled sharply, and his cock jerked, taking that breath away just as fast.
Suddenly, he looked to the side. I did the same, just in time to see Jury approach.
And he didn’t look happy with what he saw.
I tried to step away, but Judge kept his hold firm as he bit out, “What?”
“Everyone’s waiting,” Jury said.
“Let ‘em. Or fuckin’ leave without us.”
“Fine.” Jury scowled hard as he turned and stormed out.
“We’ll be right there!” I called to his retreating back, my cabin fever demanding a night out. Knowing it was unlikely he’d wait while we wrapped a lengthy discussion, I looked back at Judge and focused on the important part. “Everything else about you and Nash is different?”
“Night and fuckin’ day.”
“Will you tell me more later?”
He shook his head, and my stomach fell until he clarified. “You’ll be fuckin’ hammered later. I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
“Deal.”
Rather than release me, Judge dipped his head so his face was all I could see. “But make sure you only ask what you really wanna know, princess. ‘Cause there’s no going back. Not from any of this.”
With that ominous warning, Judge let me go only to grab my hand as we walked silently outside to see everyone had left without us.
“Can you hold your liquor?” he asked.
“Yeah, why?”
“Don’t want you falling off the back of the bike later. You want, we can take my car.”
Turning, I saw a beautiful car parked next to the clubhouse. It looked like a classic style but was so shiny, it seemed brand new. “That wasn’t there when I got here.”
“Move it depending on which way the wind blows so it’s blocked by the club and doesn’t get dirty.”
“You could build a garage.”
“Should, yeah.” He cocked his head. “Bike or car?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Bike.”
After helping me with my helmet, he put his own on and climbed onto his bike with the same badass gracefulness as the first time I’d seen him. Even with his help, my movements were far less graceful, but I didn’t care.
I hung on tight as he started the roaring engine and took off. There were a million things I should’ve used the long ride to think about, but all my brain seemed to focus on was how good it felt to be pressed against Judge’s back.
And how badly I wanted a bike.
CHAPTER TEN
___________________________
AFTER
OPHELIA
THIS PLACE IS AWESOME.
Walking into Rye, I realized how badly my friends and I had messed up by judging a book by its cover. Or, in that case, a club by its exterior. We must’ve passed it a thousand times and, despite the lines that often stretched down the block, we’d never checked it out. I’d assumed it was a dive, but I’d been way wrong.
Nothing was worn down or faded. Definitely not dirty. Dive was its aesthetic, the vibe raw and gritty, but the place itself was clean and cool as hell.
Framed pictures lined the walls, most of them signed. Even the walls themselves were marked with autographs. There was a small stage, but I was disappointed to see no instruments were set up.
I need to come back here to see a band.
Judge and I moved through the crowd to where Jury, Hollywood, Glitch, and Scythe already sat at a table near the bar. From what I’d gathered, he was friends with all his Mayhem brothers, but he was tightest with these four.
There was another man sitting with them who looked like a brother—with his overgrown brown hair, beard, and motorcycle boots—but I’d never seen him at the clubhouse.
When we reached them, the man I didn’t know stood and shook Judge’s hand, clapping his shoulder. “Good to see you.”
“Been too long.” Judge pulled me closer so I could hear. “This is Rhys. Rhys, this is Ophelia.”
I
extended my hand to meet the man’s outstretched one, but nearly missed it when he smiled and I got distracted by his deep dimples and stormy ocean blue eyes. “Nice to meet ya, darlin’.”
Huuhhhnnngghhh.
Shaking the stupid from my brain, I returned his smile. “You, too.”
Judge curled my body so my front was pressed to his side, dislodging my hand from Rhys’.
The movement didn’t go unnoticed, and Rhys chuckled. “You’re just as bad as Jake. And Kase. And now Lars.”
“Lars, too?” Glitch said, rubbing his tattooed head. “How the mighty have fuckin’ fallen.”
“Somethin’ in the beer here?” Hollywood joined in, eyeing his bottle with mistrust before shrugging and gulping it down.
Like most conversations, I was lost but still amused.
Rhys gestured to the stool he’d been sitting on, telling me, “Have a seat.”
“Thanks, I’m okay,” I said, content to stay in Judge’s hold.
He jerked his head toward the bar. “I gotta get back to work anyway, darlin’.”
Judge gave me a nudge toward the stool. “Rhys owns the place and if he takes more than five minutes off to catch up with friends, the whole fuckin’ building will explode around him.”
“Says the man who lives in his club,” Rhys shot back. “And, talk shit all you want, it’s true. Turnover is crazy, so I’m short-staffed. A-fucking-gain. Which means I’m your server. Tip me well.”
“Only if you put out,” Hollywood said.
Giving him the finger, Rhys smiled at me. “You like flavored vodka? My bartender keeps ordering cases of the shit, concocting all sorts of weird combinations. Tried telling her she was wasting my money, that no one here would drink ‘em, but I’m selling almost as many of those as I am beer, so what the fuck do I know?”
Since I loved flavored vodka—not to mention I was so thirsty, I’d have chugged a stale beer—I nodded.
I glanced at the bartender before doing a double take. The pretty redhead looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t pinpoint where I’d seen her.
I don’t think she’s a bunny.
Maybe she has family at Elder Oaks?
Rhys left for the bar, returning a few minutes later with beers, a Jack and Coke for Glitch, and a pineapple upside down cocktail for me.
