Chapter Twenty-Three
Michaels had put on a pair of jeans and was sipping on a bottle of water that’d gotten warm when he heard Judge finally drag his embarrassed ass out of hiding in the bathroom. Michaels was glad he was gazing out the window, his back to him, so the big man didn’t see his grin.
Judge didn’t have a reason in hell to be self-conscious. That cock of his was everything Michaels had hoped it would be since the moment Judge had mentioned using it on him, but probably since he first saw him in Atlanta. It wasn’t his fault that Michaels had lost his shit and ridden that lead pipe like a starving whore. He should be the one embarrassed, if for no other reason than that sappy kiss. Why had he done that? He knew Judge didn’t kiss, why was he forcing it? It had been the kind of kiss you gave a lover. Judge wasn’t his lover. Definitely not.
He heard Judge rummaging in his bag and getting dressed before he finally spoke. It was a simple comment, but the sound of that voice sent chills down his spine.
“I’m gonna take Bookem for a walk and see if I can get a better look at the girlfriend’s place.”
“I’m going with you.” Michaels quickly plucked out a clean t-shirt and threw it over his head.
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
Judge stepped closer to him. “We can’t look obvious.”
“What the hell is obvious about a happy gay couple walking their big-ass dog in the evening?”
Judge’s head jerked back in surprise. “We’re not a couple.”
“And I damn sure ain’t happy, but I can act like it. So can you.” Michaels brushed past Judge to get to his boots. When his arm was hooked in a tight grasp he turned slowly, his muscles burning with the effort to restrain himself. “Let go.”
“I don’t need you to go,” Judge ground out through clenched teeth.
“We’re in this together. Besides, you might need help. Switch and the company he kept are very dangerous.”
“So am I,” Judge hissed.
Those words were like lava running down Michaels’ spine. Hot and scalding. Michaels couldn’t resist playing right back into him. They were inches apart, practically the same height, Judge just slightly taller, but Michaels wouldn’t lift his head, only his eyes, glaring up into those dark orbs. His voice was low and threatening, but the words he chose were not. “Yeah, you’re dangerous alright.” Michaels made a show of licking his lips. “But I’m going with you… unless you wanna try to make me stay here.”
Michaels let Judge stare achingly at his wet lips before he walked casually over to his bag and picked up one of his 9mm handguns. He cocked it once and checked the safety before he tucked it in the small of his back. His eyes made sure Judge knew that was the end of that conversation.
Judge looked at him like he wanted to put him over his knee. Though Michaels’ ass still throbbed, Judge was welcome to teach him a lesson in manners later. Just then they had some work to do.
They walked like a couple, just short of holding hands. There were neighborhoods all around them; it wasn’t farfetched to be walking a dog along this road. They slowed down when they got a few houses down from the girlfriend’s. Michaels could see that the porch light was now on, and so were a couple lights inside. There was a large bay window right above the driveway that must’ve been the kitchen. The curtains were cracked and Michaels saw a petite woman with bright auburn hair stirring a pot, talking on the phone. He didn’t stare, but he checked periodically to see if anyone else was there. She looked to be alone.
They circled around the block and came back up a few minutes later. Michaels didn’t look back up at the house; his eye was on the black Navigator in the parking lot of a little convenience store across the street. He could make out figures inside it. They were parked on the side of the store, not in front. They couldn’t be customers.
Michaels slid his arm around Judge’s waist and nestled in close to him. Judge looked down at him, his face impassive. A brand new sweet sugar cane cushioned between his firm lips. “What is it?”
“Black SUV, eleven o’clock. It’s just sitting there.” He smiled longingly, like he and Judge were talking about wedding plans.
Judge held Bookem’s chain with one hand and brought his big arm up and rested it on Michaels’ shoulder. He leaned down and kissed the top of Michaels’ head and spoke into his hair. “Keep walking. We’ll watch them from the room. If they’re there for him, then they ain’t going anywhere,” Judge said, squeezing him closer.
Michaels closed his eyes and sighed. He played like he was acting, but it sure felt good to be underneath that muscled bicep. They stayed that way until they got back to their hotel. It was interesting how easily their steps coordinated when they walked and how Michaels fit so comfortably in the cave of Judge’s armpit. They circled around the block and approached the hotel from behind. Michaels opened their door and Bookem slowly trotted over to a couple pillows Judge had thrown on the floor in the corner for him. Michaels noticed that Bookem was favoring his front legs, like his back ones were aching. He had no doubt they were. He’d find a way to mention it to Judge later. The guy was way too sensitive about his dog. But Michaels had grown to like the big beast in the short amount of time he’d spent with him.