Judge (Shady Valley Henchmen 1)

And if he reviewed the footage, he would see me agreeing to leaving with Judge after saying one word to him.

That, well, that would be even more humiliating than this whole interaction. Which was pretty bad in and of itself.

Taking a deep breath, I exhaled hard.

“Judge.”

“Judge,” Cillian repeated, not placing the name.

“Judge from the Albanian mob, Judge?” Conor asked.

“I thought he was locked up,” Cillian said.

“I guess not anymore,” Conor said, cracking each of his knuckles.

“Oh, my God. You’re not going to beat him up, are you?” I asked, my voice sounding choked.

“Don’t worry about what we’re going to do or not,” Conor suggested, making his way out of my room.

“I want you to stay the hell away from him,” Cillian said before following Conor out.

“That went… about as expected,” Nyx said when they were gone. “For your family, at least. You know, my mom knew it on sight when I got home that day,” she said, shaking her head. “She said there was something in the eyes when a girl first had sex.”

“Was she mad?”

“She gave me a drink,” Nyx said, smiling. “It’s not all roses having an alcoholic for a parent, but it occasionally had its perks.”

“I can’t believe they are going to confront him over this. It’s not like I’m underage. Or that he’s employed by them.”

“No, but it sounds like Conor at least knows him a little. And I guess, in their warped minds, that means that Judge should have known you were off-limits.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah. But family is often ridiculous. It’s sweet how much they love you.”

“If you say so.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t want to swap places with you or anything, but you have to admit that it’s nice to have family that will be there for you no matter what.”

I could hear the hint of pain in that. Not raw and gaping. It was an old wound that gave her an ache when the weather wasn’t cooperating.

“I’m your family,” I told her, moving in at her side. “Want me to go find senior-guy and whoop his butt?”

“Girl, you might be able to take him,” Nyx said, smiling at the mental image. “Tell you what, you say the word, and I will smuggle your cute ass out of this town for a weekend. Get you away from those overbearing brothers of yours. Have some unsupervised fun in a different town. Vegas is only two and a half hours from here, you know.”

“Can we go right now?” I asked, pouting.

“No. Sad girls don’t go on frivolous trips to Vegas. That is for recovered girls who want to dress slutty and flirt with the high rollers. So have your sad girl phase. But when slutty Delaney wants to go out and play, you let me know. I can totally con the daytime bartenders to taking our shifts.”

If anyone could, it was Nyx.

“I love you, you know that?”

“I do. And I love you back. So much so that I threatened the fuck out of that guy myself later that night,” she said, quickly climbing off the bed in case I tried to slap her or something.

“You didn’t.”

“I was worried, in my defense. He came back, and you didn’t.”

“Oh, okay,” I said, thinking I couldn’t be too mad about that. “What did you say?”

“That I would skin him from the tip of his dick to his neck, pull that skin up, and make him wear it as a hat.”

“Why does it sound like you’ve done that before?” I asked, the first laugh I’d had in days bubbling up and bursting out.

“A lady never reveals how many bodies she has. Whether that means she fucked them or buried them,” she added with a wicked smirk. “So, am I going to see you at work later?”

I’d skipped my last two shifts.

Partly because I was feeling wonky.

And also because a part of me was not ready to run into him again.

But I had to stop hiding.

I had to pull up my big girl panties and move on with my life. If for no other reason than the fact that a slutty girls trip sounded like a lot of fun. And Nyx was right; I had to be in the right headspace for that.

“Yes,” I said, giving her a smile.

So I got up, showered, made myself presentable, then made my way into work.

Then I went ahead and tried not to notice the blood and bruises on my brothers when they eventually showed up.

And the strange, swirling sensation in my stomach over what they’d done to Judge.

Even if I was sure my crush on him was, well, crushed once and for all.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Judge

“Incoming,” Detroit called, looking back at Slash, who took a long sip of his coffee.

“Surprised it took this long,” he said, making his way toward the front door as I looked out the windows to see a black SUV making its way toward the clubhouse.