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“Should’ve thought about that before you agreed to stand there and allow my brother to beat the shit out of you.”
“Had to be done.”
“Did it?” She shook her head and decided not to dig deeper right now. “I’m here now. I’ll help where and when I can. Where are you living?”
When he hesitated, she narrowed her eyes on him.
“Nowhere, yet.”
“Nowhere? Are you being serious right now?”
“Yeah. Livin’ temporarily with Dutch. Gotta make other arrangements.”
Judge didn’t mention the man was homeless. That made raising a baby a little more difficult than normal.
“Well, once you figure it out and get settled in your own place, we can reevaluate my situation and how I’m going to help. But, as I’m sure... Judge told you, I’m not here permanently, Chris.”
“Cage.” He grabbed his cut and tried to shrug it on. He failed and let out a long, low hiss.
Jemma watched him try once more, then took pity on him and helped. “I’m only here until I find another job. I didn’t become a registered nurse to raise someone else’s baby, Chris.”
“Cage.”
“Right. Cage.” She sighed. “Until you do get your house in order—literally—I’ll head home and stay there. I miss Lottie’s cooking anyway.” She held out her hand and he stared at it. “Give me your phone.”
Moving slowly and with another groan, he dug inside his cut for his phone, unlocked it and handed it to her. She snagged it from his long fingers and plugged in her number before handing it back.
“Text me when you have it all figured out.”
“Might take me the next eighteen years to figure it all out,” he muttered.
“I won’t be here for the next eighteen years, Chris. You’ll be lucky if you have me for the next eighteen days. It won’t take me long to get another job since RNs are in high demand right now. So, get your shit together and soon.”
She didn’t wait for his response, instead she left him still sitting on the table. Alone. She needed to maintain the hold on her reality and her frustrations with this MC life, not the part of her emotions curious about this wounded biker.
If he needed help to get to The Barn, the Fury’s new clubhouse, then that was his problem, not hers.
Her current problem was waiting for her at her 2020 Volvo XC40. She sighed as she approached where she’d parked it near the farmhouse. She loved that vehicle. And now she didn’t have a damn job to pay for it. Taking care of a biker’s surprise baby wasn’t going to make that monthly payment.
“What the fuck is this thing?” Judge grumbled. “A fuckin’ Volvo, Jem? Really?”
She had bought it in bright white and had the windows tinted dark. With the crossover vehicle’s black accents, she thought it looked badass. Apparently, her brother didn’t.
Well, he didn’t have to drive it.
Or pay for it.
Damn it.
“I deserved it.”
“Didn’t say you don’t deserve a sweet ride, sis, but,” he shook his head, “a fuckin’ Volvo? Even Walt’s probably spinnin’ in his grave.”
“Go take your judgement elsewhere, Judge.”
His expression went grim.
So did hers. “Brother...” She stopped in front of him, where he leaned against her driver’s door, his thick, tattooed arms crossed over his chest. To anyone else his expression and his stance would be intimidating. To her, it wasn’t. And she hoped to hell he wasn’t scratching her pretty white paint with that damn chained wallet of his, otherwise he was going to hear about it. “You did a fucking number on him.”
“Yeah.”
“You swore you wouldn’t be like Ox. You promised me, Judd.”
He took a sharp inhale through his nostrils, even though his expression remained stony. “Yeah.”
“Please don’t become Ox. Not just for me, but for Lottie.” Having to say those words made her chest ache. “Please,” came out on a broken whisper.
Damn it!
His jaw shifted and his eyes slid to the side to avoid hers. “Nothin’ like our old man.”
Him avoiding her gaze didn’t bode well and after what she saw out at the edge of that field, Jemma wasn’t so sure he wasn’t turning into their father. When Lottie told her that her brother had taken over as sergeant at arms for the Fury, Jemma couldn’t believe it.
Judd hated Ox. He hated Trixie. He was glad when Lottie and Walter took them in and away from that life.
He willingly stepped right back into it.
Jemma was ticked Trip even resurrected the damn club. She figured the Fury had been irrecoverably destroyed. That no one would ever dare piece the club and its shattered past back together.
Somehow Trip had done it.
And the group of bikers who had stood at that field proved just how many men were willing to follow him into the possible abyss.
Even worse, her brother had stepped into their father’s boots. The same ones that killed Ox. She didn’t want Judge ending up with the same fate.
