“Bounty hunters are all about the payday, as well. The chase and catch is sport for them but the pay is always a great bonus. If you offer this guy an incentive to his regular fee, maybe he’ll let our guy go along,” Syn chimed in after a while.
God rubbed his face. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“I can do this, God,” Michaels added, for good measure.
“Alright. Let me call him.”
Chapter Nine
Judge flashed his badge to the guard at the door. Once his credentials were thoroughly checked, he eased his truck into the underground parking garage for transporting convicts. A guard came out the side door and Judge gave him the paperwork for Antonio Cordeno. The guard went to his desk and typed in the revoked bond information while Judge irritably leaned against his truck. “Come on, man. I ain’t got all fuckin’ night. The paperwork is right there. Take this asshole outta my truck so I can go.”
The officer’s lip curled up at him. “You are the most impatient fucker.”
“Yeah. So is your wife.” Judge flicked the sugar cane to the other side of his mouth, his posturing daring the man to react badly.
The young corrections officer’s face turned a bright shade of red and Judge pushed off his truck, ready to square off. Bookem was growling in the back seat, sensing Judge’s ire. Judge could tell the officer wanted to say something, anything, but chose the wiser course of action. He yanked his cuffs off his utility belt and met Judge at the back of the truck’s bed. With his key fob, Judge unlocked the back gate and told Tony to come out. The guy took his time scooting to the end of the bed. Judge growled, reached in and grabbed the guy by his ankle, and yanked him hard enough that he shot out the back of the truck and hit the ground with a hard thud.
The officer looked up at Judge like he’d lost his mind, but he only shrugged. “He must’ve slipped.”
“Go on. Get out of here,” the officer said, helping Tony to his feet.
Judge heard Tony complaining to the officer about Judge’s treatment, but he wasn’t worried about it nor did Judge care to explain anything. He’d head over to Duke’s to pick up his paycheck and move on. He might even get a chance to go home for a couple days if he didn’t get any calls. Like that ever happened.
Duke’s Bail Bonds was only a forty-minute drive from Summerville to Charleston. The converted three-story brownstone sat right on the outskirts of the city. The top floor was Duke’s living area, while the bottom two floors were office space. As always, Judge walked in without knocking.
“What’s up, Judge?” Charlie asked, looking up from his computer. “Damn, man. You got Tony already?”
Judge took off his leather coat and threw it over the back of one of the desk chairs. “Yep.” He groaned, reaching up and cracking his neck on each side. Bookem left his side and went to get some affection from the other big hunter while Judge made himself a cup of coffee.
Charlie patted Bookem hard on his flank while telling Judge a story about a female jumper that he’d had to pepper spray after she continued to kick and bite him. Judge barely listened while he checked his emails on one of Duke’s computers. He had a billion stories of his own; he didn’t need to hear anyone else’s.
“Is that Judge down there?” He heard Duke’s husky voice yell down from the top floor.
“No,” Judge yelled back.
“Well then I don’t have to write this check.”
Judge snorted and kept typing an email to his father. He liked to check in at least every few days and let him know he was still alive since his father was sick, and the only living relative he had. Once he was finished, he saw that Bookem had made himself comfortable on the couch in the corner. “Hey, Charlie, give Book his food and some water while I talk to Duke.” Judge dropped the bag of dog food by Charlie’s desk and went for the stairs, hefting his own duffle bag over his shoulder.
“Sure.” Charlie whistled for Bookem to follow him.
“Well that was fast,” Duke said, when Judge rounded the corner. He walked into Duke’s home and made himself comfortable on the tan leather sectional. He suppressed his groan. His body was getting tired. He’d never admit that to anyone, and probably not even out loud to himself, but each chase wore on him a little more than the last. At forty-four, he wasn’t getting any younger. He heard ice clinking in a glass and opened his eyes to see Duke holding out a glass of scotch. Judge sat up, tucked his sugar cane to one side, and took the drink, tossing back the strong liquid. He grimaced, setting the glass on the wooden coffee table in front of him. He noticed his check was on the table, too. Fifteen grand to add to his retirement fund. Tony’s bond was only seventy grand but Judge’s fee was more than the standard ten percent most hunters got paid. He was usually retained to hunt the more dangerous criminals, so the increased fee could be called hazard pay.