Don't Judge (Nothing Special 4)

“If I have to send Book under there to get you, it’s not going to be pretty what part of your body he uses to drag you out here. He hates going under houses,” Judge said in a calm voice.

“Figures Duke would send you, Judge. Well fuck you! I’m not going back to jail!” The man yelled angrily.

“You kinda are.” As if Bookem agreed the dog let out a sharp bark, pacing anxiously behind his master. It was pretty quiet out and he knew the man could hear him. After a few seconds, his hope that no one was home in the trailer was squashed when the back door was abruptly opened and a woman in a thin pink robe stuck her head out and yelled, “What the hell are you doing in my yard?”

Judge could see her hair was shaved close on one side and the other side had long red locks hanging from dark roots. The woman was brave to yell at him, especially looking the way he did. His big, tattooed arms were on full display since he’d shed his ankle-length leather coat. The black, sleeveless, skulls t-shirt was well worn as were his black leather pants. His black riding boots were more for kicking ass than riding his bike, which he rarely had time to do. His almost black hair was messy and out of control; in fact, the only thing groomed about him was his beard. Which had grown long under his chin over the last couple months.

If his appearance wasn’t enough to deter people from staring at him too long, or pissing him off period, his hardware surely did the trick. His black felt-handled ten-inch, serrated blade was sheathed and strapped to his right thigh. With his coat off you could see two black grips of his identical Sig Sauers tucked in his waistband at the small of his back. Bounty hunting was a very dangerous job.

Although he had it suspended around his neck, Judge reached in his back pocket for his official identification. Flipping it open, he held it up, revealing his license on one side and his gold finish marshal-style bounty hunter badge on the other. “I won’t be but a minute as soon as I get the rodent from under your home.”

“What the? Vermin,” she said, disbelievingly, stepping out onto the porch.

Judge tucked his ID away and held both hands up. “Please don’t come out here miss. This man is a convict and I don’t what you to get hurt.”

As if Judge’s words lit a fire under her, she scurried back inside the door. “Oh, my goodness. Should I call the police?”

“Nope. I got him,” Judge said, and squatted back down when Bookem started growling, never taking his eyes off their man. It looked like he was moving back towards them.

“You come out quietly and don’t do anything stupid, Tony. I’m really not in the mood,” Judge said, stepping back. “You try to run again and I might just choose to put some rock salt in your ass instead of chase you.” He heard the man curse a few times but wasn’t concerned. He and Tony had done this dance before, Judge having caught the guy six different times for skipping bail. Tracking him this time had been rather easy, knowing all the man’s hideouts. Tony knew he was going back to jail and he’d have no choice but to show up for court this time. Judge waited another thirty seconds and growled himself. “Get the fuck from under there right now. I don’t have the time or patience for this bullshit, Tony.”

Bookem began to growl again once Tony got closer. Judge saw a dirty hand appear first, followed by Tony’s head. The guy was a nasty mess from crawling under there and Judge wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Dumbass,” he hissed, reaching down and angrily yanking Tony all the way out. He pulled the man to his feet like a ragdoll. Tony wasn’t scrawny; Judge was just big and strong as fuck. He zip tied Tony’s hands in front of him and used his shirt collar to drag him alongside him. He heard the woman call out a thank you. For what? Judge wasn’t quite sure as he made it back to his truck.

The back was still down and he nodded his head at Tony to climb inside. He’d stopped helping his catch up into the large hooded cab when he was kicked in the groin by a woman he’d caught a few years ago. Now he stood back and waited. He had a footstool for the shorter people in the backseat, but Tony was tall enough to climb up in there. He waited for Tony to scoot to the back before he lifted the gate, closed, and locked it. The long cab of his truck had a specially made elevated hood. He could transport his bounty back to whatever jurisdiction they’d run from semi-comfortably. The bedding was padded and he had some blankets back there as well. There was an anchored cooler attached to one side of the truck for them to hydrate, along with protein bars and fruit. A bounty hunter’s license could be suspended and possibly revoked for unjust treatment of their prisoners. The outside of the hood had a piece on either side that slid back, leaving a small screened portion for sunlight and fresh air. But of course there were vents inside for climate control.