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“Do you ever switch it up?”
“We’ve done it a couple times. Sway went once. I went another time. Each with one of the brothers. But usually only when something is wrong. Someone is sick or some shit. We figure that once we expand, we will delegate shit out more. And Slash is eager to grow, but he wants to do it right.”
“Is that part of the reason he set up near a prison?” I asked.
“Yeah. Seemed like a smart move. It is easy to look up prisoners, find out what they are in for, who their connections might be, which guys might be a good fit for the club.”
“Guys like me whose organizations got slaughtered,” I guessed.
“Exactly. Anyone who is in for something that Slash thinks works. And didn’t snitch.”
“Hard to find these days.”
“Yeah, no shit. Hence why we’re picky. You’re the first offer he made to a prisoner so far.”
But certainly not the last.
“I guess I should feel honored then.”
“He’s picky. But you had a good track record from what we could tell. Know what we couldn’t figure out, though? Since all your friends are dead or ran off?”
“What’s that?”
“Why they call you Judge.”
“Simple enough. I worked for the Albanians, right? Well, the boss was a fucking hot-headed lunatic. Shoot first kind of guy. His underboss—his younger brother—was a lot more even-tempered. And he used to suggest deferring if someone needed an ass-kicking, a talking-to, or a grave to me. I would ‘be the judge’ on the matter. Eventually, the nickname stuck.”
“How many graves?” Crow asked.
That wasn’t typically an answer someone felt comfortable discussing with someone they’d only met a week or so ago. But if I was understanding shit right about these MCs, you didn’t have secrets.
“Eight. I believed more in a talking-to and a solid ass-kicking. But sometimes, decisions have to be made.”
“Messages need to be sent,” Crow said, a darkness coming over his eyes, making me realize there was more to him that I had yet to discover yet.
“Exactly.”
“Well, it works out that your old nickname makes a good road name.”
That was true.
I still had yet to figure out anyone else’s road name, aside from Slash whose, unfortunately, was evident to anyone who met him.
“Alright. Well, since you aren’t patched yet, I figure the guns should stay with me,” Crow announced, holding out a hand. “No offense.”
“None taken,” I said, handing over the bag with the guns. “How are you going to keep them safe in the room if we’re out, though?”
“Do Not Disturb on the door. And then stash them under the bed if it isn’t a platform,” he told me, kicking the bottom of the bed with his foot. “Or in the closet,” he decided when his foot hit wood. “They’ll be fine. Safer in here than in a car for sure. And, let’s face it, someone is always coming and going. None of us comes to Vegas without bringing someone back to our rooms.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, wondering if any of them had picked up on the fact that I hadn’t been taking anyone back to my room at the clubhouse.
I hoped they were all too busy picking who they wanted to fuck to worry about who I was—or wasn’t—fucking myself.
The only one who maybe caught on was Detroit. But he was also the one least likely to say anything since I was pretty sure I hadn’t seen him bring anyone back to his room either.
“Are there any kind of rules or a schedule to follow that I should know about?” I asked, making my way toward the door.
“Eh, we’ll probably start the night out at the same place, but eventually head off in our own directions. Don’t get locked up pretty much sums up my advice.”
“Got it,” I agreed, heading off into the hall.
I dropped my bag in my room before deciding to head downstairs for something to eat.
And it was then that I was almost fucking positive I saw her.
Delaney Murphy.
Standing in the elevator.
But the doors shut before I got a chance to see if it was my mind playing tricks on me or not.
But it had to be.
There was no way she was in Vegas.
Those overprotective brothers of hers would never let her leave town. At least not without them. And I knew they were still in town because their cars were all outside The Bog when we passed on our way out of town.
A lookalike, then.
Maybe that was who I should set my mind to fucking. Close enough to the real deal without all the issues attached.
With a sigh, I skipped lunch and made my way back upstairs instead, running a cold shower, and taking matters into my own hands to get some relief from the nagging need to be inside that woman again.
It wasn’t long after that when there was a knock at my door.
