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Maybe even without panties.
I mean, the skirt fell pretty long anyway. It wasn’t like anyone but me would know.
“Going without panties gives you a little sexy secret,” Nyx had once told me. “And that makes you a lot more confident.”
Before I could talk myself out of it, I pulled off my clothes—panties included—and slipped on the dress, feeling the way it hugged my body.
“Well?” Nyx called.
As an answer, I pulled open the door and did my best confident walk out into my bedroom.
“Yes! That is the kind of energy I am here for. Now we just have to figure out the shoe situation. I am going for icepick, but my hooves are used to discomfort. When was the last time you wore heels? Old Man Mitchell’s funeral, right?” she asked.
That was a year before.
But she also wasn’t wrong.
“Okay, well, blisters aren’t sexy. So we are going to put you in a cute, trendy flat instead.”
Thank God for small miracles.
“Alright,” she declared when I had my shoes and a small wallet that went around my wrist with an attached bracelet so my hands could always be free.
Inside was cash, a credit card, my room key, and a condom that Nyx insisted I carry with me, despite my objections.
“Listen, you always have to be prepared. You never want to leave that up to the guy. So whether or not you use it, you have it, okay?” she asked as she slipped out of her clothes.
Right there in front of me.
Then again, if I looked like Nyx, I imagined I would like being naked as often as possible.
She slipped into a red dress that set off her pale skin and black hair. Somehow, she had lipstick that matched it perfectly.
On went her icepick heels and her signature scent, and we were off.
It was all a glittery blur then.
But there were drinks and snacks and gambling and laughter.
“You look like you’re done for the night,” Nyx said a while later, giving me a frown.
“No, no. I’m fine,” I said, but I couldn’t stifle the yawn that came out of me as I said it.
I was used to working until well after two in the morning, so it made no sense that I was ready to tap out around one.
But we’d done a ton of walking.
And, despite my profession, I wasn’t a big drinker. So coming down from the many drinks we’d had that made me want to curl up with some chips and mindless TV until I passed out.
“You’re tired,” Nyx insisted. “Let’s head back.”
“No. I’m not ruining the rest of your night.”
“You’re not. I will hang out at the bar in the hotel.”
“I can’t leave you. That is Girl Code 101. I don’t want you to be a name on a podcast,” I insisted.
“I promise you I will not leave the bar unless it is to come up to my room. I have my taser. No one is taking me. Unless he has a yacht. In which case I will text you to tell you I am getting Vegas married, and that you have to find your own way back to Shady Valley.”
“It’s a deal,” I agreed, feeling mildly better about the arrangement if she was only going to be a few floors below me. I could text her. And even go down if I was worried.
With that, I saw her to the door of the bar before heading back upstairs.
I was all of five feet out of the elevator when I felt a hand reach out and grab the back of my neck.
A scream caught in my throat as I was being whipped around by that same strong hand.
I never got the scream out, though.
Because the next thing I knew, my back was slamming against the wall, and Judge’s lips were crashing down on mine.
CHAPTER NINE
Judge
“Fucking bastards,” Slash grumbled, slinging one of the duffle bags from the SUV’s trunk over his shoulder. The rest of us followed suit.
Grabbing our personal duffle bags, sure, but also the ones that we were supposed to have dropped off before we got to the hotel.
The ones full of guns.
That were meant to be in someone else’s hands already. But Slash had gotten a call last minute asking for a delay because the guy who was supposed to be buying them got hit in a drive-by, and was getting stitched up.
Which made the reason they wanted the guns they asked for clear.
But it also made things more complicated for us.
Originally, I wasn’t supposed to even go on the run. Not when I was just a prospect. My job would typically be to stay behind and watch the clubhouse while they were gone. And do any chores they left for me to do.
But Detroit ended up wanting to hang back because of some long-standing appointment he had, so Slash decided to let me tag along.
