Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107595 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107595 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
If not now, maybe soon.
Because how long could hubby stay away from his wife and kid? Especially during the holidays. Unless the man was just that self-centered and didn’t give a flying fuck about them. Maybe he did his crime, got caught and then left her dealing with the mess left behind.
Because it had been a mess.
After Deke had left for Williamsport, Judge had done a bunch of online searches on the case.
Not only were the people of Rochester outraged, but all of New York, too. Hell, the whole fucking country seemed to be screaming for blood once it hit national news.
Judge didn’t pay much attention to the news unless it happened to be about one of his clients. Otherwise, he was fine with living in his own damn little world. Just him, his cousin, his sister, and his aunt.
Though, that little world had grown a lot with the Fury being resurrected. And as the club grew with prospects, members and ol’ ladies, his world continued to expand. They also needed more prospects and soon. Nothing better than having one to do any dirty work needing done.
Like sitting on a house all fucking night, keeping an eye out for a bail jumper named Dennis Lange.
Judge sat up slightly as a dark figure slipped out the front door. Was that fucking Lange?
He hit the button on his seat, powering it fully upright as his eyes stayed glued to that figure.
Yeah, it was a Lange, but not of the male variety. This one had curves he recognized even under the hip-length coat.
Where the fuck was she going at this time of night?
Where was she going dressed like that when it was this cold? From what he could see, as she headed to where she was parked near a streetlight, she was only wearing PJ pants and heavy slippers under that coat.
He watched as she climbed into her Honda. Maybe she was just grabbing something. Then the brake lights illuminated and a second later, so did the headlights.
And like that, she drove away. What the fuck?
Where the fuck was she going? It was after eleven and she was alone.
It wasn’t like Manning Grove was dangerous, but still... A woman alone at night...
Plenty of those inbred Shirleys still remained up on that fucking mountain. And until they were all gone, Judge didn’t think any woman in the Grove was completely safe.
He hit the Start button on his Ford and put it in Drive, not turning his headlights on until she had disappeared around the corner. He followed her at a distance, just staying close enough to keep her taillights in his view.
She circled a couple of blocks like she was lost—or maybe trying to lose a tail—and then ended up on Main Street. Close to the end of town, she pulled off into an empty lot.
A scowl pulled at his mouth. It was the lot where the Fury’s warehouse used to be. The warehouse that used to house the Original’s church. The developer who’d bought it from Trip had completely leveled the building.
Judge pulled over to the curb on Main Street and stared at the lone CRV parked in a place that, if he allowed it, brought back memories.
Some good. Some bad.
But she had no ties to it. She had no history with the Fury that he knew of, which made Judge want to know what the fuck was going on. Why she had stopped there. In a place where there were no lights or people. Where she was alone in the dark.
The reverse lights flashed as she put the Honda into Park and a second later all the cage’s lights went out. Which meant she might be staying a while.
Was she meeting her husband there?
Was she meeting someone for a late-night fuck?
Judge shut down the Expedition and waited.
And waited.
She didn’t get out of the Honda and no one else drove onto the lot.
He waited almost ten fucking minutes.
Nothing.
He needed to know what the fuck was going on with her.
Which bothered the shit out of him. Why was he so goddamn obsessed over her? A woman who belonged to someone else.
He had a job to do, that was it.
“Fuck,” he muttered, getting out of his Ford and locking it.
He walked the half block down to the former warehouse lot. He hadn’t stepped on that property in over twenty years, so a chill slid down his spine the second he did so. It was almost like stepping into the past.
The property was bigger than it looked from the street and all that remained of the old warehouse was a large pile of scrap metal in a back corner, the large concrete slab where that metal used to be erected, a dilapidated chain link fence surrounding the boundary, and the parking lot with pot holes so large, they would become little frozen ponds once the weather turned colder.