Judge’s words have my fingers biting into my skin. Yes, we normally don’t invite random people to stay in Malus, but the thought of Eden being kicked out has me wanting to put my fist through a wall. The feeling is unreasonable and unwelcome, so I force it away.
“She also saw him murder a woman.” I let that sink in, because I know that’ll change Judge’s tune. After all, that’s what we do. Take out bastards who harm women and children.
Pure hatred settles over Judge’s and Trouble’s faces.
“As soon as the problem is taken care of, she’ll be gone,” I reassure Judge, then tack on because he needs to know I’m not budging on this, “But not a minute before.”
He doesn’t acknowledge my statement and continues, “What do we know about this guy?”
I unlace my fingers and lean back in my chair.
“It’s Emiliano Tomas’ son, Diego.”
Trouble whistles then rubs his hands down his face at this news. Just as expected, Judge snarls out a curse.
“Son-of-a-bitch! Really, JW? Diego fuckin’ Tomas? Do you have any clue what kind of guy he is?”
I nod tightly. “The kind who puts his hands on women. Exactly the kind of person we fight against and take out.”
“Fuck!” He stands and starts pacing the room. “We’re just asking to bring heat to Malus with this. You sure you want that?”
I shrug. “It won’t come to that.”
“You don’t know that,” he counters.
I get up from my chair and lean my fists on my desk. “It doesn’t fuckin’ matter, Judge. We’ve never let shit like that stop us before. He’s already killed one woman. Eden needs our help. If we don’t, we’re sending her to her death bed. You know that as well as I do. I’ll do some digging and we’ll keep this under the radar.”
He spins away and grabs the back of his neck. I give him the few minutes he needs to get over his snit.
Normally, when we come across situations where we need to step in, we simply hunt the person down and take them out, leaving no trail of us behind. The situation is more complicated because of who the guy is and who he’s connected to. It would be hard to get to Diego undetected because he has body guards and tight security. It’s not an easy in and out. We’ll get the job done, but there has to be more of a strategic plan set in place. And it would be better if he comes here, versus us going to him.
“We’ll get it done. Just be careful and keep me posted.”
I barely restrain the need to bare my teeth at Judge. Never have I ever put the town in jeopardy, and it pisses me off that he thinks I would start now.
Without another word, he turns on his heel toward the door. Before he can open it, I give him a warning.
“She’s staying with Jenn
y until this is taken care of. I expect you to show her respect and not make her feel unwelcome.”
I know how Judge can be sometimes. He has a straightforward personality and can come off as an asshole with his bluntness. Eden seems like she can hold her own and won’t be intimidated easily, but I still don’t want her to feel blackballed because Judge is angry at me.
He doesn’t respond, but I know he’ll heed my warning. He jerks the door open and stalks out of the room. Trouble comes to his feet.
“Let me know when the time comes and when you need me,” he says.
If anyone can understand the current situation, it’d be Trouble. A little over six months ago, his now wife came to town and ended up needing refuge from the man who raped her. He went head to head with Judge because Judge wanted the woman gone, even though she was eight months pregnant.
It’s not that Judge isn’t sympathetic—he’s actually very compassionate when it comes to violence against another person, he just doesn’t like not being in control of the situation. He’s always been in control. Even as kids, he looked after Trouble, Emo, and me. That’s how he got his nickname Judge.
I thank Trouble and he leaves. I move my eyes to Emo, who’s now standing beside the opened door. His arms lay at his sides, one hand balled into a fist, no doubt letting the key in his grip rip through his skin. It’s what he does in tense moments. That key is never out of his sight, and it’s been the cause of all of the scars on his hands and arms.
Without a word, he gives me a silent nod, his way of letting me know he’s in with my plan and will help when needed. Emo lives for violence against those who harm innocent people.
A moment later, I’m alone in my office. Pulling open my bottom desk drawer, I pull out the bottle of whiskey and lowball glass I keep stashed there. Pouring a couple of inches in the glass, I toss it back and grit my teeth at the burn.
After putting the bottle and glass back, I get up from my chair, ready to get the hell out of here, just as my office phone rings.