Dark eyes filled with several emotions—sympathy, pain, and rage to name a few—stare back at me in understanding. “Just into the house. I need to go see what happened. You can wait for me in the living room.”
Nodding, I let him lead me back into the house. He takes me to the living room and sets me down on the couch before heading down the hall. I pull my feet up on the edge of the cushion, hug my legs, and bury my face in my knees.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I hear JW mutter.
I lift my head when I hear the front door burst open. Judge stalks inside, jaw tense and his eyes darting frantically around the room. When he sees me on the couch, he opens his mouth to say something, when JW walks back in the room.
“Judge—” he begins, but Judge interrupts him.
“Where is she?” he demands.
“Judge,” JW tries again, “I don’t think—”
“Where. In the fuck. Is Jenny,” he booms. I flinch at the loud demand and squeeze my legs tighter, further into myself. More tears burn my cheeks.
JW’s eyes narrow, but he gives Judge what he wants. “Bedroom.”
He steps to the side just as Judge gets to him and disappears down the dark hallway. JW’s eyes meet mine.
“Are you okay?” I nod weakly. “I need to….” His words drift off.
“Go to him,” I croak through a dry throat.
He spins away just as a loud crash comes from the bedroom. I drop my head to my knees again and simply let my tears flow, my heart breaking even further at the utter pain I know Judge is going through. He may not love Jenny in the traditional romantic sense, and he may share his affections with other women, but there’s no doubt he cared for her deeply. It didn’t take long for me to see that.
Judge’s roars echo off the walls and there’s more thundering crashes. All I can do is sit there and listen. Listen to a man who seems so strong, tear apart his room because of his grief over losing someone important to him. Not only lose someone, but in such a cruel and hideous way.
JW’s murmurs drift down the hallway, but I can’t tell what he’s saying. What can really be said in a situation like this? There’s nothing that is comforting enough. There’s nothing that can make a person feel better. There are no words that can make this right.
It’s been at least ten minutes before JW and Judge come back into the living room. I cautiously cast my eyes at Judge, afraid his wrath will turn my way. If he holds me responsible for what happened, I wouldn’t blame him. It is my fault. It’s me who Diego wants. Jenny was just an innocent casualty in his sick need to get what he wants.
He stops in the center of the room and faces me, his eyes dark and carry a mountain of pain, but also filled with rage. JW comes to a stop between us. Not blocking Judge from me, but no doubt putting himself close in case he needs to step in. I don’t think Judge would hurt me, but words can sometimes be just as painful as a blow to the face, oftentimes more so.
“Where’s Benjamin?” Judge demands harshly.
I frown. “Benjamin?” I look to JW then back to Judge. “Who’s Benjamin?”
“The guy I left with Jenny while I ran an errand.” His answer is a biting growl.
“I was just getting ready to call you when you called me.” JW inserts. “My phone was in the truck while we were at Emo’s, and I missed Judge’s text, telling me Benjamin was here. I wanted to warn you. You didn’t see him when you got here?”
I’m shaking my head at the same time I say, “No.”
Just at that moment, a loud bang comes from the kitchen, followed quickly by a low moan. I barely have time to blink before JW’s rushing toward the kitchen with a gun I hadn’t seen until now in his hand with Judge hot on his trail. I get up from the couch, suddenly fearful with the possibility that Diego’s still in the house. It didn’t even dawn on me that he could still be here. I wrap my arms around my middle and edge toward the wall by the hallway.
A moment later, JW and Judge are leading a guy out of the kitchen, his arms draped over their shoulders as he struggles to stand. He has blood running down the side of his face, dripping from his chin onto the floor. He looks to be in his early-to-mid-thirties. I assume this must be Benjamin.
I hold my place at the wall as the two men set the injured one down on the couch. He groans when his head thumps against the back.
“Eden,” JW calls, and I glance at him. “Can you go to the kitchen, find a towel, and wet it for me?”
I nod and rush to do his bidding. Grabbing a dish towel from the drawer by the sink, I stick it under the spigot, and squeeze out the excess water before bringing it back into the living room.
“Trouble should be here any minute,” JW is saying when I hand him the wet towel.
“What in the fuck happened, Benjamin?” Judge stands, glaring down at the man, his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his face a thunderous mask.
Benjamin’s head is still lying against the back of the couch and his eyes are closed as JW begins to wipe away the blood. There’s a huge gash that’s left behind.