Don't Judge (Nothing Special 4)

Michaels wiped his eyes. “Yeah, I know. I just… with everything that just happened and all.”

“It’s only a little after eight and I’m still starving, even more after all that damn running.” Judge turned down a one-way street lined with shops and restaurants. “You said you would cook.”

Michaels lowered his voice, all humor aside. “You said I’d get to kiss you.”

Judge’s voice was serious. “And I’m a man of my word.”

“Take me to a grocery store.”

Judge waited in the truck in front of the Publix Super Market for Michaels to get some stuff for dinner. He had Michaels’ phone in his hand, making sure the red dot hadn’t moved. God’s IT guys had put a tracker on the girlfriend’s cell phone number. Now they knew where she was at all times without constantly watching out the window. He really needed these kinds of resources. They’d make shit a whole lot easier. What if he had God’s resources available to him at all times? Everyone had contacts. He’d lived in the same city as Godfrey all these years and had never thought to ask him for any favors, now that the bad motherfucker ran an entire damn task force. Maybe he could….

The door opened in the back and Judge turned to see what Michaels had. There were only four bags but they looked full. “Got everything you needed?”

Michaels slammed the back door and got back in the front. “I think so. Got breakfast and lunch, too.”

“Mmm. Good boy.” Oh fuck. Judge clenched his jaw. He really didn’t mean to growl that, it just happened. Michaels was way too bullheaded to be called “boy.” Judge glanced over and saw Michaels covering his smirk with his fist while he stared out his window. Noted.

Judge circled the block a couple times before he pulled into their hotel. Of course there was no black Navigator, but they didn’t see any other suspicious vehicles either. Judge was confident that God and Day would handle that end of their headache. His sole focus was his catch, always has been. Outsiders he dealt with quickly, meaning he usually ignored them, but when someone did a drive-by on you, it couldn’t be disregarded.

Michaels went upstairs to start cooking while Judge walked and catered to his dog. It felt oddly domestic. He smiled without even realizing it. Maybe he did like the idea of settling down, just had to have the right guy put those thoughts there. Judge chewed on his cane. He wasn’t partner material though, in the work or life sense. He was old and set in his grouchy ways. Michaels might play with him while they were on the road, get his itch scratched—and Judge would enjoy it immensely—but when the gorgeous young stud got back to his real life and a fresh, young blond stallion walked by with a trim body, perfectly groomed hair with not a strand of gray in it, Judge would be yesterday’s trash. Judge coughed, startled by the annoyance he felt at that assumption.

It was going to be him and Bookem. That’s it. The realization was pitiful. He was no different from his spinster aunt and her two cats. All day she sat in her rocking chair with one or both in her lap watching The Golden Girls. “Augh, Jesus.” Judge shook his head, trying to dislodge the images. He picked up a rock and threw it angrily across the asphalt. His future sounded shitty as hell, but at least he had his companion. According to his vet, he wouldn’t have him much longer if he didn’t make some serious changes. He’d had Bookem on the road for many years, but he appeared stressed. As Judge walked, Bookem hung back, his head low to the ground. Judge sighed. He had to get Book in a better living environment. He’d bought a great home in Fulton County, on the outskirts of Atlanta. His two-story, three-bedroom was purchased dirt-cheap. It was a foreclosure and a complete fixer-upper. When he’d gotten it, it wasn’t livable until he got a new roof and plumbing installed. Now it was a great way for him to relieve stress. He’d go home and do construction on his home until his body ached, and instead of thinking about his life or feeling isolated, all he could do was sleep.

He still had to let Michaels kiss him. He thought he’d prepped himself enough. This was simply some on-the-road fun, nothing he hadn’t done many times before. He was simply bending a few rules. No big deal. It was different to work with a partner again after so many years going it alone, but it was only temporary. Temporary.

Judge’s nose was assaulted by the smell of well-seasoned, searing meat as soon as he walked into the room. Michaels was standing barefoot, bare-chested at the mini stove in a pair of low-riding sweats that clearly informed Judge he wasn’t wearing any underwear. There was a towel draped over his shoulder that he used to dry his wet hair while he flipped what looked like a T-bone steak with the fork in his other hand. Judge tried not to gawk but it was hard… very hard… among other things.