Yeah, Shade. Because Shady decided to change his road name—which had been given to him specifically as a prospect because it was an insult—to Shade. And the man owned it.
Quietly, of fucking course.
Cage, as Road Captain, gave the signal and they all revved their engines as Shade strode between both lines. When he got to the front door of The Barn, Trip stood there and handed him his cut with all rockers and patches. As soon as the prez and Shade clasped hands and bumped shoulders, they all cheered and shut down their sleds.
Even though Judge was not in the mood, it was time to party.
But first he’d warm up his fucking nuts by the fire. He’d prefer to be warming up in bed next to Cassie, but she was working the bar while Dodge, Trip and Stella were at the celebration.
It sucked for Judge. Yeah, he’d prefer to have his woman by his side, but she had a job to do and needed the money. Plus, Stella had no one to take Cassie’s spot and until she did, Cassie was stuck working during the club parties.
But Judge was going to make sure that changed. He might have a plan for her—where she wouldn’t have to work late nights anymore—if she was willing to stay in town. And by staying in Manning Grove, that meant staying with him.
He hadn’t talked to her about it yet. Hell, he hadn’t even talked to Trip or the exec committee yet. But he would. Right now he needed to concentrate on finding Lange. Once Cassie’s divorce was final, she’d be free to plan her future.
Hopefully, with him in it.
Because, fuck him, he’d been on the edge the whole time in Rochester, being away from her. At first, he thought it was because he was anxious to find Lange. Then Deke laughed at him and told Judge why he was being a cranky motherfucker.
It took a couple more days before he admitted Deke was right. Though, he didn’t tell Deke that. No fucking way. He was not getting ridden raw by his cousin.
After putting his sled away in the shed, he made his way back to The Barn with Jury on his heels. He thought about leaving her with Daisy while Cassie worked but he’d missed his damn dog when he’d been away.
As much as he missed Cassie.
And her little hell-on-wheels was growing on him, too.
The first stop inside the busy clubhouse was to grab a beer, then he sat by the roaring fire in the center circular fireplace, kicked up his boots and lit a fatty.
The music was blaring, the club’s sweet butts were making their availability known by making rounds, and Shade was banging down shots at the bar with a bunch of their brothers.
Nobody was getting through the night without getting fucked or, at least, fucked up. Including Judge.
He was giving himself the night off, then tomorrow he’d be back in the office taking care of his business, as well as making some calls to try to put out some feelers around the country for Lange. He wasn’t sure it would do any good, but it was better than doing nothing.
Trip dropped down beside him on the bench and held out his hand. Judge passed the joint and watched his prez take a long hit, hold it for a good ten seconds and then blow it at Angel, one of the newest sweet butts, when she approached, her eyes focused with a purpose on Judge.
“Get lost,” Trip growled at her.
Angel, who had to be barely twenty-one, if that, and way too thin for Judge’s taste, shot the prez a scowl and then headed toward the crowd at the bar, looking even more determined to get her claws into someone wearing a cut tonight.
Trip twisted his head toward him. “Figured you weren’t interested in hittin’ that. I wrong?”
Judge snagged the joint back after Trip took a second hit. He took another one himself and after he blew it out, said, “Nope. First off, too young. And she don’t have anythin’ to hang on to when she’s ridin’ my cock. She ain’t enough to smother me. If I ain’t strugglin’ for my next breath when my face is between her tits or thighs...” He grinned.
Trip returned the grin. “Didn’t think that’s the reason you wouldn’t be interested. Was thinkin’ it was ‘cause she ain’t blonde and her name ain’t Cassie.”
Judge passed the pot back to him and picked up his beer from the floor near his feet. He tipped the bottle to his lips. “Might be another reason.” He let the cold beer slide down his throat.
“No luck in New York?”
“Fuck no.”
“Now what?
Judge lifted and dropped one shoulder. “No fuckin’ clue. Asshole left no trace. Just disappeared.”
“Feel bad for her, tryin’ to raise her girl and in some fuckin’ limbo ‘cause her husband fucked her. And not in a good way. Screwed his family, then split. That ain’t a man, that’s a fuckin’ coward. She’s left holdin’ the flamin’ bag of dog shit while he could be on a tropical island somewhere livin’ off the scratch he skimmed, drinkin’ a Corona and suckin’ on a fuckin’ lime wedge.”
“If he is, hope the fucker chokes on that lime.”
“Never know, maybe he’s dead.”
Judge thought about that possibility. “I’d be all right with that if—and that’s a big fuckin’ if—Cassie got a death certificate. That might free her of his debt.”
“Or as the widow, make her responsible. Not sure. Don’t know how any of that fuckin’ shit works.”
He didn’t, either, and a lawyer might have to get involved if that was the case. However, a lawyer cost a good amount of scratch. Money Cassie didn’t have.
“If that’s true, need to find his ass alive and get him to sign those divorce papers.” In truth, he wasn’t even sure that would clear her of all the debt, but Cassie seemed to think it would.
Trip sipped on his own beer as they both stared into the flames. “When I was down in Shadow Valley with the Dirty Angels, met a few guys, not sure if they were mercenaries or not, but definitely some kind of former special ops. They worked for the DAMC’s enforcer at In the Shadows Security. Do all kinds of jobs. Diesel, the enforcer, said they’re the best. Remember Slade who just came up here? My Marine buddy? He vouched for that crew, too. Said they could find or lose anyone. Got a problem? They could make that problem disappear.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Rub is, they ain’t cheap. Gotta take a goddamn mortgage out to hire ‘em, but they get the job done. They could probably find his ass, in case you and Deacon can’t.”
“You know she don’t have the scratch for that.”
He hated to drop that kind of dough, but he would if he needed to. He’d put a little money aside in case Ry ever took Judge up on him paying for college. Even if his son wanted nothing to do with him, Judge still wanted to make sure his son’s future was set.
Trip flipped his baseball cap off his head, then jerked it back on. One of the habits the man had when he was thinking hard. Or hardly thinking. “Yeah, know it. Feel bad for her, gettin’ fucked like that. She’s workin’ really fuckin’ hard at Pete’s. Workin’ that bar again tonight by herself. Stel trusts her completely and knows she’ll get the job done.”
“Yeah, she’s exhausted every night. Daisy keeps her on her fuckin’ toes, too. And with not havin’ help ‘cause her sister and her man are gone...”