Judge (Shady Valley Henchmen 1)

- So what I’m hearing is, I have a chance of coming to see you tonight.

I can’t… you know… everything hurts.

- Wasn’t trying to sneak in for some pussy, Dell. And, come on, baby, if you can do it, you can say it.

You just want to sneak in to raid the snack stash Nyx left for me then.

I was not touching the rest of that comment.

Objectively, I knew he was right. I mean if I was going to be having sex, I should be able to talk about it. Especially to the person I was having it with. But, well, it was all just new still. I figured with time and practice, I might eventually get there.

I was so lost in my thoughts that the ringing of my phone startled me, making me almost drop the damn thing before I silenced it, a part of me paranoid my brothers would come running if they heard it.

“You got me,” Jass said. “What’d she hook you up with?”

“Let’s see… pickle-flavored chips…”

“Pickle-flavored?” he repeated, sounding disgusted.

“Are you one of those wrong people who don’t like pickles?”

“Don’t really have strong feelings either way. Spend the last several years eating food-like meals at the prison, so anything that is real and recognizable is good. Lucked out that Detroit likes to cook here.”

“Do you mean cook, or do you mean barbecue? Because they’re not the same thing. My brothers throw a slab of meat on the grill, put it on the counter after, and declare that dinner is served. Like cavemen.”

“Nah, I mean he cooks. Can’t even pronounce half the shit he whips up. But it’s all good. ‘Cept that time he served us fish with the fucking head still on. Can’t eat it if it is looking back at me.”

A surprised giggle escaped me at that because I could clearly envision his face when that plate had been placed in front of him.

“Do you cook?”

“I wouldn’t eat if I didn’t,” I told him. “Cillian used to, you know, try. Back when I was still underage and not trusted with the stove. But most of his attempts were burnt or too revolting to choke down. I learned pretty quickly how to throw some meals together so I didn’t starve away to nothing.”

“Who is feeding you now that you’re down?” he asked.

“I see a lot of cereal and diner food in my future,” I admitted. “This town needs more dining out choices.”

“A pizza place came in while I was away.”

“Have you tried it?” I asked.

“Nah, not yet.”

“It’s glorified frozen pizza. Kind of like that old-school lunch pizza from elementary school. Do you remember that?”

“Undercooked with halfway melted cheese on top? Got fond memories of that pizza.”

“You think that. Until you have it as an adult. I mean, it is edible if you really just want to eat something. We all keep hoping that someone will open something new. But it’s been like three years now. It’s not looking promising. And, apparently, the only good cook in town decided to become a biker instead of helping the town by opening up an eatery.”

To that, Jass let out a low chuckle that made my belly turn deliciously.

“I’ll have to float the idea to him,” he said. “Always good to have some legit business. Like The Bog.”

“And the pool hall,” I said, nodding, even though he couldn’t see me. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Why did your club open up here? It seems so far away from everything.”

“Kind of the beauty of it, I guess. Stay away from the bigger cities and their more well-funded police forces, but are close enough to head in when we need to do some business.”

“I guess that makes sense. Pretty much every day on my way home from work, I see one of our cops taking a nap in his cruiser.”

“Yep. They’re not doing the most. And who can blame ‘em when most of the crime going on around here is the kind of shit they aren’t trained enough to handle.”

That was true.

Even with RICO statutes, it was difficult to pin much on organized crime unless you really knew what you were doing.

And our police, well, didn’t.

They could be counted on for your average fight or domestic disturbance, some petty vandalism, catching kids trying to sneak off to drink, and passing out traffic tickets. But that was about it.

I figured that so long as my brothers and the Bratva didn’t air their dirty laundry out in public, and face the hands of the cops, they were just going to keep walking on with blinders on to the organized crime in the area.

“So, what else did Nyx get you?”

“Some of the soft granola bars I like, pretzels—the nibs kind, which are the only kind worth eating—, Skittles, and Twizzlers.”

“Skittles and Twizzlers,” Jass repeated. “All the candy there is in the world, and that’s what you like?”