Page 30 of Judge’s Obsession

Low murmurs ripple through his men, and I bare my teeth in a predatory smile.

“Word is, Demon came for a girl. A girl you promised him.”

Still, Preacher doesn’t speak. He doesn’t move a muscle.

I raise my voice so everyone can hear me.

“I’m paying her father’s debts. With interest. Under Preacher’s own laws, a debt paid in cash is a debt no longer owed. It’s done. The Grave Saints’ claim on Kaylie Reeves is dead.”

Preacher’s face goes from indignant red to a rage-filled purple.

There’s no way he can argue with me. He knows I’m right. And if he reneges on his own law, there will be chaos.

He narrows his eyes, making it clear this isn’t over.

No, it isn’t, motherfucker.

I scowl right back.

“If you even think of looking in Kaylie’s direction again, you will be declaring war.”

There’s nothing National can do at that point.

I leave no room for misunderstanding. “Kaylie Reeves is my property. Anyone who causes her harm will have to face me. And they’ll have to face my brothers.”

The men at Preacher’s back shuffle nervously.

Preacher dips his chin in acknowledgment. It’s the best I’ll get.

I do the same, then lead my men from the property.

CHAPTER 11

KAYLIE

“Do you know where D—Judge went?” I blush as I ask Cherry the question. I’m sure I still look thoroughly fucked. Not only that, but there’s no hiding how much things have changed between Judge and me.

I drop my gaze to the cutting board, where I’m chopping potatoes for the barbecue, but it does nothing to hide my emotions.

Cherry giggles. Misty rolls her eyes. But it’s Tank who answers.

“Club business.”

I glance up at him and swallow. He looks worse for wear. Mere hours ago, he stepped in Demon’s way when he came for me. Guilt coils around me, choking back the words I want to say.

“How are you doing, Tank?”

Despite his swollen eye, he winks at me. “I’m good.”

Tears threaten, but I hold them back. “Thank you.” My voice cracks. “You don’t know how much I appreciate what you did for me.”

Cherry bumps her hip against mine. “That’s what the Iron Thorns are all about, sweetheart. Not all motorcycle clubs are the same.”

“I’m beginning to realize that,” I admit, a smile tugging at my lips.

I let my gaze sweep across the clubhouse, where the men are drinking and chatting. The first night I arrived, I remember thinking they looked like a bunch of scary motherfuckers.

But now?