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As one, everyone else turned to see what the hell was going on, including Judge. The man moved surprisingly quick, stepping into her path and using his big body to block her. He grabbed her shoulders to stop her forward motion right before she plowed into him.
“Get out of here, Tess,” Judge growled.
She didn’t look at the sergeant at arms, instead she kept her eyes on Trip and Easy. She swallowed a sob threatening to escape and demanded, “Let me go, Judge!”
He leaned down and yelled in her face, “You ain’t supposed to be here!”
She rose on her tiptoes and screamed, “Too fucking bad!” back in his face. When he purposely blocked her view, she leaned to the side attempting to see around him but he was like a brick wall. She tried to jerk herself free from the large fingers digging painfully into her upper arms. “Trip! Don’t do this!”
“Go home, Tess, or go back to Chelle’s,” Judge ordered. “Go somewhere other than here.”
“I’m not going home! I’m not going anywhere! This is my fault. All of it. I made him keep it a secret.”
Suddenly, her brother was there, standing next to Judge with flared nostrils and annoyance clear on his face.
She hurried to explain, “He wanted to approach you, Trip. I told him not to. It was all me.”
“Get the fuck outta here, Tess. You are not to be here for this. Not fuckin’ listenin’ is what got you two here in the first fuckin’ place.”
“Trip…”
Trip pointed at the Subaru. “Go! You’re just gonna make it worse for him.”
Her chest heaved as the sob she’d been fighting finally forced its way up her throat.
She glanced past Trip to the spot where she last saw Easy before Judge had blocked her view. He had thrown off the blanket but hadn’t moved from that spot. He seemed to be stuck in place.
Even though they were yards apart, she could see it. The blood leaking from his mouth, a swollen eye already turning ugly colors. The hair ripped free from one side of his man-bun and shielding half his face. The red blotches left behind on his bare arms from each strike.
Wincing, he leaned forward, holding one arm across his gut with a hand pressed to his ribs.
“How many?” she whispered, turning her eyes to her brother. “How fucking many?”
Trip gave a single shake of his head and his jaw shifted sharply. “’Til I decide it’s over. Now get the fuck outta here.”
“You mean until you’re no longer angry with him? Until your temper isn’t flaring? That could be never!” She finally jerked free of Judge and stepped toe to toe with her brother. Lifting her face to his and lowering her voice, she held his gaze prisoner as she said, “I’m not leaving. If anyone has to be punished, it’s me.” Her eyes flicked to the wooden club in his hand. The one stained with old blood, a leftover from the Originals and a reminder of how they used to handle things. “Right now, you’re no better than they were. I hope you’re proud.”
She knew that would bug her brother but right now she’d say anything, anything, to get him to stop.
“We are fuckin’ better, Tessa. You know why? ‘Cause we have rules to follow and we follow through when they’re broken. This ain’t the goddamn Wild West like it was back then when chaos reigned. So, take your goddamn judgment and get the fuck outta here before I have someone haul you away.”
“If you insist on continuing, then use that on me instead. I deserve it,” she jabbed a finger toward Easy, “not him.”
Trip stared at her like she had lost her mind. “Are you fuckin’ crazy?”
She couldn’t just sit back and let her brother beat the fuck out of the father of her child. She couldn’t and then live with herself afterward.
“I got this, Tess,” Easy said, taking a few wobbly steps closer and using the back of the hand not holding his ribs to wipe away some blood from the corner of his mouth.
“No, you don’t. Not for something I did. I’m not going to let your history repeat itself. Not today. Not ever.”
That was what was exactly happening. He was once again paying for something not his fault. Late one night a few weeks ago, when she had lingered in his bed afterward, he had shared the story of why he’d ended up in prison.
They had been making small talk, learning details about each other neither knew before and, of course, that particular story had stuck with her. How could it not?
The girl he had sex with had tricked him, used him as a tool to piss off her boyfriend and he was the one stuck doing a four-year bid. Not that fucking bitch. Not that bitch’s boyfriend. Easy.
