Page 92 of Until Mayhem

The man smirked, his gaze moving from Judge’s side to his hand on my hip then up to meet his eyes. “Heard Nox brought the boom back to Boston.”

Nico.

Heavily tattooed with a blond faux hawk and gauge earrings, he looked like a Mayhem brother—not the son of a sheriff.

“You find yours yet?” Judge asked.

“I still think it’s bullshit,” he said, though he didn’t seem too confident.

“Right.”

An older man approached from the side and I didn’t even need the introduction to know he was Nico’s dad. He was nearly as tall, and his blond hair was almost the same shade—just with the addition of some gray.

After introductions were made—with a fair amount of smirking from Sheriff Mayson and eye rolls from Nico—the sheriff tilted his head toward the building. “How’s she doing?”

“She’s a soldier,” Judge said fiercely, “holdin’ it together better than anyone should expect from a kid.”

Everyone fell silent for a moment, their eyes on the building and their thoughts on their rage.

“We better get in,” Sheriff Mayson said, the voice of reason.

Nico raised his chin and started for the door, looking like he’d be the one jumping the barrier.

When I took a step, Judge tightened his grip. “Give us a minute.”

I didn’t know Sheriff Mayson. I didn’t even think Judge knew him outside of helping with Madison.

That said, I liked him. I’d already guessed he was a good man, but it was confirmed when his concerned eyes went to me. And, like Judge’s, they said I shouldn’t hear what I was about to in that courtroom.

Along with being nice and good, he was also smart because, after taking a look at me, his lips quirked and he followed his son, muttering a, “Good luck,” to Judge as he passed.

Tilting my head back, Judge tried again. “Sure you don’t wanna wait in the cafeteria? We’re not even sure we’ll be allowed in when she testifies.”

I doubted my presence would matter a single bit to Madison since I wasn’t her mom, her sloth, or her biker buddy.

But when I’d sat with her the night before, giving her and Lightning checkups and reassuring her neither of them were dying, she’d made me promise to come. She’d said I was like her school’s Nurse Doris—who was apparently a hundred years old and mean as Maleficent. She likely wouldn’t need me, but it made her feel better to know I was there if she did get sick.

At least, that’s what I hoped the comparison meant.

So whether she needed me or not, I’d be there, surrounded by the big, bad bikers who had her back.

“I promised,” I told Judge, and that said enough.

“Figured. You’re good with her.” Curling my body so my front was pressed to his side, he moved his hand up my hip to the side of my stomach. “Meant what I said about putting my baby in you soon.”

I was surprised he couldn’t feel the rave of butterflies erupt in there. “It’s only been a week.”

“And?”

“And it’s been a week. Normal people are only on their second date at this point.”

“We’re not normal.”

“One of us sure isn’t,” I huffed.

“If you think I’m going back to you not being in my bed, you’re out of your mind.”

“If you think I’m moving in with you after a week, you’re out of your mind.”

---