She nodded again, shivering and wrapping her arms around her waist once more. He jerked the shifter into Reverse and the Expedition fish-tailed again as he smashed on the gas pedal to back out of the driveway. As soon as he regained control, he headed in the direction of the disappearing taillights he’d seen when he’d come around the corner.
Thank fuck there were also the tire tracks in the inch of snowfall. They would help unless Lange turned onto heavier traveled Main Street. And, of course, that’s where the fucker went. Luckily, between the snow and the late hour, no one else was driving through the middle of town. Up in the distance, he saw what looked like the Dodge’s taillights. He blew through the red light in the square—since, luckily, no one else was around—and down the slushy road.
As Judge raced to catch up, the Dodge slowed up ahead, the brake lights glowing bright even in the falling snow. The cage turned.
Fuck me. This was déjà vu all over again.
But this time he didn’t park at the curb and walk into the empty lot where the former Fury clubhouse used to stand. Fuck no. He pulled in behind the parked Dodge, which now had its lights out and was sitting in the dark.
He blocked it in as best as he could since Lange had parked in a back corner of the lot near the fence. Where no one would see him from Main Street.
Where shit could go very fucking wrong and no one would know right away.
He quickly sent a text to Deacon, then shut off his lights, but kept his engine running. He reached under his seat, where he kept a holstered 9 mm Glock and shoved it into the back of his waistband.
With one eye on the Dodge and its occupant, he shoved his door open and climbed out. He took cover behind the door for a few seconds, just in case Lange was armed and willing to take a shot at him.
When no shots were fired or threats yelled out, he cautiously approached the car. And, of course, the window was still wound up. Lange had both hands firmly on the steering wheel and stared straight ahead. Judge noticed the divorce papers lying on the dash.
“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” Judge muttered under his breath. Louder he said, “Roll down the window, or I’m bustin’ it out.”
Lange slowly turned his head and stared at Judge through the closed window, his eyes vacant and tears running down his cheeks. The back of Judge’s neck tingled again. Something was definitely off with this fucker.
He did not turn into the old warehouse lot to escape. He pulled into the vacant lot to hide.
Why?
“Get the fuck outta the car,” Judge ordered. Even though the man was a fugitive and it was Judge’s right to take him into custody, he could not use his gun to do so. While he had a license to carry a concealed weapon, it was for personal reasons and not for his business. To use it for business, he would need his Act 235 certification, which he and Deke never completed. Because of that, they used non-lethal options when capturing a bail jumper instead of a firearm.
But if Judge had to shoot the fucker to keep himself from dying, he would. That would be a last resort since too many questions would arise if he killed Cassie’s husband. Especially since he was fucking the man’s wife and planning a future with her.
That might appear a bit suspicious.
The window powered down and Cassie’s estranged husband stared up at him. “Who are you? Why are you bothering me? Just leave me the hell alone.”
That wasn’t going to happen. “You skipped on bail and have a warrant. You’re comin’ with me.”
Lange’s eyes went wide and he shook his head. “No, I can’t go to jail.”
“Ain’t your choice. Just like you gave Cassie no choice by stickin’ her with all the debt after you stole from a kids’ cancer charity. What kinda fuckin’ man does that shit?”
“Just leave me alone and she’ll be free of me.”
“Not if you don’t sign those fuckin’ papers, she won’t. And the fuck if you’re livin’ free while she suffers. You’re gonna get what’s comin’ to you.”
“I can’t go to jail! I can’t! I’ll never survive.”
“Ain’t goin’ to jail. Goin’ to prison. But you’re the type of asshole who’ll go to a country club prison, nothin’ fuckin’ hardcore. You’ll be playin’ tennis durin’ the day and at night, some rich daddy will make you his bitch. Promise it’ll only hurt the first coupla times.”
“I only wanted to see my daughter one more time. I needed to apologize to my wife, my daughter. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen to them.”
“An apology will never be enough to fix your fuck up. You lied to her. You not only lost everything she had, your actions destroyed her life. Now she’s left pickin’ up the pieces. She lost everything, Lange. Her marriage, her home, her job, her security, all because you gambled away all your shit, then turned around and, bein’ such a selfish motherfucker, you stole from kids with cancer. That ain’t a man, you asshole. That’s a selfish pig. Instead of the money goin’ to help families with dyin’ kids, you lost a hand of poker. Or a round of blackjack. Or by bettin’ on the wrong fuckin’ horse. Whatever your poison was, it affected a lot more people than you. So, fuck your apology.”
“I know, I—”
“You didn’t even have the balls to tell her. Could’ve admitted your weakness and asked for help. You fuckin’ didn’t. Instead, you brought Cassie and Daisy down with you. Was thinkin’ more about yourself than your family. ‘Cause of that, can’t leave you alone. Law’s after you and so am I.”
Lange covered his face with his hands. “I can’t go to prison,” he whispered.
This conversation was getting old. And Judge was losing what little patience he had. “It’s over. Get outta the car.”
“I can’t let you take me.”
“You didn’t wanna get caught, you never shoulda broke into that house. Never shoulda upset your girl.”
Judge reached for the door handle and Lange screamed, “All right. I’ll get out.” He shoved open the door and climbed out, leaving the door open as he faced Judge.
The man wasn’t much taller than Cassie. Maybe a couple of inches. His hair was longer than the picture Judge had of him, his coat dirty, his pants wrinkled. And from what Judge could see inside the open door of the Dodge, it was full of fast food wrappers and trash.
The man had hit rock-bottom.
But that wasn’t Judge’s problem. Cassie and Daisy were his problem. He didn’t give a fuck about Lange, he gave a fuck about them. “You’re gonna sign those goddamn papers and do somethin’ to help Cassie for once instead of fuckin’ her over. Then I’m takin’ you to Rochester.”
“I can’t go.”
“Got no fuckin’ choice.”
“We always have a choice.” The man’s voice sounded eerily vacant.
“And you made some fuckin’ bad ones. Now do somethin’ for the woman who once loved you ‘til you fucked her over.”
In a sudden move, Lange pulled a gun from his coat pocket and pointed it directly at Judge. Right at his goddamn chest. Fucking motherfucker.
“Don’t come any closer.”