Judge didn’t respond, unless you counted the grunt. Another couple hours of darkness and silence Michaels asked, “How long you been a bounty hunter?”
“Nope.”
Michaels was confused by the answer. “Excuse me?”
“Nope. We’re not doing this. We don’t need to get to know each other. You don’t care about my life story and I don’t care about yours.”
“Good lord,” Michaels mumbled, turning his eyes back to the darkness. Fuckin’ asshole. This was going to be the partnership from hell. It was clear that Judge was used to riding alone, he wasn’t interested in small talk or making the miles go by faster using entertainment. It was dark now and Michaels couldn’t pull out his novel, so he steeled himself to keep his mouth shut unless he had to open it.
Since he hadn’t slept the night before, he leaned back and closed his eyes, saying he was just going to rest them a bit. He must have been more tired than he thought because the next thing he heard was the truck door slamming shut. He jolted awake, instinctually reaching his hand behind his back for his weapon. Fuck. Looking up he saw they were in the parking lot of a pretty shitty motel. Shit, where are we? He hated that he fell into such a deep sleep. Pulling out his phone he saw it was after midnight. Son of a bitch, he’d been asleep for over two hours. He got out and stretched his back. His neck and knees cracking and popping from being cramped up so long. Judge came back a few minutes later, not bothering to say where they were or what the plan was. “Our room is around the back,” he said, and hopped back in the truck.
“You want me to let your dog out first?”
“No. I don’t let him out until we get out of sight of the office. Even if they allow pets, they don’t allow them that big.”
Judge drove around to the rooms on the backside. It was only a two-level motel and a few of the rooms were occupied, while some looked like they were condemned. “This place looks like a crime scene itself.”
“You scared?” Judge said, almost seductively.
Michaels looked over at him, hating the way his cock responded when the man talked. “Do I look scared?”
Judge gave him a good once over, and then got out the truck. Michaels lingered against the bed while he waited on him to let his dog out. He went ahead and fell in beside them whether his company was wanted or not.
Judge walked Bookem, thinking again how his best buddy was getting up in age. He wouldn’t be able to keep doing this for long. He was seven years old, so in actuality he was fifty-four in human years. His vet was one of the best and had diagnosed Bookem with a slight case of arthritis, so either Judge would have to stop taking him on the road with him or find another line of work. He’d had a lot to consider lately. He couldn’t leave Bookem in his home in Georgia, under the care of some random dog sitter or kennel.
Judge was shocked to see Michaels was quietly walking beside him, hadn’t noticed him until he spoke in his deep, silky voice.
“What’s his name?”
Judge waited a few seconds before he answered. “Bookem.”
The laugh was quiet and masculine. “Interesting. He’s a good boy.” Michaels let Book sniff his hand again, waiting to pet his large head. He stood up to their hip and although he was huge, he was extremely gentle. It was clear Michaels knew how to interact with dogs. He supposed that was somewhat of a turn-on as well.
“Have you had since he was a pup?”
“Yeah. I knew he’d be easy to train.”
“He’s a working breed. I bet it was easy.”
They walked in silence and stood off to the side while Bookem did his business in an area littered with unkempt bushes. He noticed how close he was in height to the handsome detective. He had a strong aura about him and found he actually did want to know just a little more than the guy’s name and title. “How long you been working with God?”
Michaels slowly turned and faced him. “Nope.” There was a real satisfied smirk on his face when he walked off.
Ass.
Judge used the key to open the door. Yep, that’s how old that motel was off of seventy-five in Lake City, Florida. It was ten classifications worse than seedy. Judge could’ve driven a few more miles to a Comfort Inn, but he wanted to see just how gritty his new riding companion was. If he was a pampered princess.
The room’s interior was not only beyond his expectations but so was the smell. It was dank and musty. There were two full-size beds, a nightstand with a dusty lamp in the middle. A nineteen-inch television that didn’t look like it was cable-ready, and one dresser with a mirror that had what could be a coffee pot sitting on top, but he wasn’t sure. Judge grimaced himself when he looked in the tiny bathroom and saw the tub was filthy, as were the toilet and sink. Okay. Maybe I overshot this a bit. When he came back out Michaels had shed his boots and jacket and was sprawled across the bed on his back with his forearm thrown over his eyes.