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)
In the dark interior of the Ford, he nodded to himself at her answer as he sped toward town.
“I’m going to get him to sign the papers,” she whispered after a few minutes.
“Fuck the papers, Cassie. Wait ‘til I get there.”
“This might be my only shot.”
“Cass, just stay put and keep an eye out for what he’s doin’.”
“I need to be free of him. So does Daisy.”
“Cass…”
He got no answer.
“Cass!” he shouted into the dark interior of the vehicle. “Jesus fuck!”
“I’m here.”
Oh, thank fuck.
“The papers are in our room.”
“Fuck the papers.”
“He’s still here. I can convince him to sign them.”
Judge ground his teeth. “I’m almost there.”
“Okay, then I’m hanging up.”
“No—” The phone disconnected. “Call Deacon!” he yelled the voice command, and a ringing filled the interior.
“What’s up?” his cousin answered.
“Where are you?”
“Headin’ out. Was face first in pussy when—”
Judge cut him off, not needing to hear about Deke’s latest fuck at a time like this. “Head toward Cassie’s.”
“Headin’ there now. But—”
“Will give you an update when I get there.”
“Got it,” came the answer before the phone went dead again.
“Call Cassie,” he shouted. The phone rang and rang and a few seconds later her voicemail picked up.
He jammed his boot harder on the accelerator, making his Ford scream as it did fish-tails in the snow that was starting to accumulate at each corner he took.
When he got to the house in record time, the driveway was empty and Cassie stood barefoot in the snow with her arms wrapped around her waist.
She was probably fucking freezing, standing there like that.
He rolled down the window as he pulled in. “What’s he drivin’?”
“Light colored, maybe tan, four-door Dodge sedan. I don’t know the model.”
“Get the plate?”
She shook her head. “When I went into her room, he pushed me down and ran out of the house. I had to chase him.” Tears were sliding down her cheeks. “He didn’t sign the papers.”
For fuck’s sake, those goddamn papers.
He put his arm out the window. “Give ‘em to me.”
She lifted her empty hands. “I don’t have them. I threw them in the car when he was escaping. He has them.”
“Gotta go catch his ass. Text Deke the details. Get in the house and lock the doors.”
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.