Page 14 of Judge’s Redemption

“You checking up on me now?”

“I'm making sure you get home.”

“I have a car.”

“I know.”

I lock the door behind him. “Then your work here is done, I don’t need you.”

Judge doesn't move. The salon feels smaller with him inside it. The mirrors throw pieces of him back at me from every wall. Broad shoulders, dark eyes, tattooed arms, and the careful restraint that's been driving me slowly insane.

“Was the sedan here again?” he asks.

“No.”

His gaze moves toward the dark street beyond the window.

“What did Mercer want?”

Judge looks back at me, partly surprised that I remember the detail from his conversation with Cash.

“You said you'd tell me what you could.”

“He had an agreement with the club. Kane ended it.”

“That's vague.”

“The details involve somebody else.”

“But that car might involve me.”

His jaw sets.

I fold my arms. “Yeah, I know. The club comes first. I remember.” I sweep some more.

His face hardens. “You don't get to throw those words at me every time I don't answer exactly how you want.”

“They were your words.”

“And I've regretted them every day since.”

The force in his voice makes me retreat before I intend to. My back meets the edge of a styling station.

Judge stops several feet away, but the heat of him fills the distance. “I said them because I needed you to believe I didn't love you,” he says. “It was a lie then. It's still a lie, I will keep telling you that until you believe me.”

“You left today when Cash came.”

“I had a job to do.”

“Exactly.”

“And when it was done, I came here.”

The words hang between us while rain ticks against the glass. I grip the counter behind me. “You don't get points for showing up you know.”

“I'm not asking for any.”

“You think three weeks of being on time changes five years?”