Page 49 of Until Mayhem

He tilted his head toward the room. “Didja see anything good?”

“Nope. Boring.”

“Were you expecting a room filled with drugs, a traveling craps game, and neatly stacked and stored hookers?”

“Some illegal fireworks. A few bootleg DVDs. Maybe mattresses with the tags cut off would’ve been nice, too.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

I raised a shoulder. “It’s fine… I guess.”

He grinned, but did it letting me go.

I’d asked Judge what he did for a living but had never questioned what his club did—even though it was a good bet they didn’t just go on Sunday afternoon rides together after brunch. At first, it’d been out of self-preservation because the less I knew, the better.

Then, it’d been because I hadn’t wanted to know. Judge, Court of Mayhem, and Nox were definitely the lesser of two evils compared to Nash. I’d wrapped that security around myself and settled into the safety they’d offered—even if it was kinda by force initially.

But everything seemed… different. The lines had blurred so badly, it was impossible to tell what I was feeling.

And the only way for me to decide was to know the truth.

Gripping the sides of Judge’s cut, I blurted, “Out of curiosity, does that mean there’s nothing illegal happening here?”

He studied me for long, silent moments before saying, “Wouldn’t say that.”

It was my turn to be quiet for a moment as I debated whether I really wanted the answers.

Whether they really mattered.

Because if I was only there until Nash was out of the picture, I didn’t need to know anything. It didn’t matter.

Not unless I was interested in more than temporary sanctuary.

Watching him carefully, I asked, “Is Nash after you because you’re the competition?”

“No, he’s out for money, power, connections, and insider info.”

My shoulders slumped a little. “So you don’t, uh, work in his three areas?”

“Wouldn’t say that, either.”

Lead filled my stomach, pushing bile up to burn my throat as disgust coated my mouth in bitterness.

I dropped my hands and moved to step away, but he curled an arm around me so his palm was pressed to my lower back, his other hand spearing into my hair.

“What we do is really fuckin’ different than what that piece of shit does,” Judge practically growled.

“How?”

“Back in the day, we used to help run prescription drugs, gettin’ them to people who needed them. Still do, but it’s rare after some shit went down.”

“That doesn’t count,” I said, relief making my head swim.

Judge’s brows raised. “What?”

“Do you jack the prices up like that punchable face Pharma-bro?”

“No, it’s bought at cost, and we don’t take a cut.”

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