Page 10 of Judge's Justice

"All night."

"Yeah."

She wraps her arms tighter around herself. "I just wanted somewhere quiet. Somewhere safe, you know?"

"I know."

"I don’t blame you, okay?" Her voice cracks slightly. "You saved us. You didn't have to, but you did. And now you've been sitting out here all night in the cold because… Because of me."

"Not because of you. Because of what's right."

She looks at me like she doesn't quite believe that. Like she's used to men who don't do what's right.

Whatever she's running from, it left marks.

"Grace saw you," she says after a moment. "Through the window. She asked if you were still protecting us." She pauses."She wanted to know if the nice man who talks with his hands is hungry."

"And?" I keep my voice level.

"And I'm making breakfast. Nothing fancy, just eggs, toast and whatever else I can find in this rental kitchen. But—" She takes a breath. "You've been out here all night. The least I can do is feed you. If you want. You don't have to. I just—"

She trails off, looking uncertain. Vulnerable in a way that makes me want to put myself between her and anything that could hurt her.

Which is a dangerous thought.

"Yeah," I hear myself say. "Yeah, I'm hungry."

"Okay. Good. That's… Okay."

She turns to walk back to the house, then stops and looks back at me. "Judge?"

"Yeah."

"Thank you. For staying. For protecting us." Her voice is soft. Sincere, “You didn’t need to do that, thank you!”

I want to tell her that I did it because that's who I am. Because I couldn't let that Viper put his hands on her. Because her kid looked at me and asked if I was nice and something in me just broke.

But I don't say any of that.

"You're welcome," is all I manage.

She smiles, and walks back inside, leaving the door open behind her.

An invitation.

I stand there for a second, looking at that open door, wondering what the hell I'm doing. I should call Phoenix. Should tell him I'm compromised. Should hand this off to Brick or Saint or literally anyone else who doesn't have this strange pull in their chest when they think about a five-year-old girl signing *Are you nice?* with a smile that could light up the world.

But I don't.

I walk up the porch steps and through that open door.

The house is small, warm, and smells like coffee. Grace is sitting at the kitchen table in pajamas covered in cartoon stars, her curls wild around her face. When she sees me, her whole face lights up.

She signs immediately. “You came! Mama said you might not want to, but you came!”

I sign back without thinking. “Your mama invited me. It would be rude to say no.”

Grace giggles. This bright, delighted sound, and signs again. “Are you hungry? Mama's making eggs. I don't like eggs but Mama says I have to eat them anyway because they're good for me.”