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Judge lifted the hatchet and felt its weight and size. He raised it over his head with both of his, like PJ had, and flung it at the target with all the power he could muster.
The hatchet hit the target and bounced back toward PJ.
Judge flung himself at her, knocking her to the ground and covering her body with his.
The hatchet landed on the ground two feet past the point where PJ had been standing moments before.
Judge pushed up on his hands and stared down into PJ’s golden-brown eyes.
She blinked up at him. “You missed,” she said, her voice breathy.
Judge grinned. “From where I am, I’d say I hit the target.”
Her tongue swept across her full lips, drawing his attention from her eyes. The temptation was so strong, he couldn’t resist.
He lowered his head.
“Interesting training method,” a voice said, breaking the trance Judge had succumbed to.
Judge leaped to his feet and held out his hand to pull PJ to hers. Together, they turned to face the owner of the sarcastic voice.
PJ’s face burned a bright pink. “It’s not what it looks like.”
Dressed all in black with a black leather jacket and black leather combat boots, the man’s dark eyebrows rose to meet the thick black lock of hair that fell artfully over his forehead. He reminded Judge of the actor who’d played Snape in the Harry Potter movies. “You mean it’s not fraternizing?” he asked, his tone dripping scorn.
PJ stood with her back straight and her chin held high. “No, sir.”
“I was just protecting my trainer from a bad throw,” Judge said. To prove the point, he bent to retrieve the hatchet from where it had landed. “It bounced all the way back here.”
“You don’t have to use as much force when you throw it,” PJ said. “It’s more about the finesse of the throw. We’ll practice.” She turned to the man with the dark eyebrows. “This is my recruit’s first pass through the confidence course. I’m assessing his strengths.”
The man’s lip curled back in a sneer. “Right.” His gaze narrowed on Judge, though his words were directed to PJ, “And he is?”
PJ tipped her head toward Judge. “Judge, this is Tiberius.” PJ tilted her head back toward the man with the thick, dark eyebrows. “Wiley scouted Judge in Whitefish. Apparently, he’s good with guns.”
Tiberius snorted. “We’re not just about firearms here at The Chosen Way.”
PJ dipped her head once. “That’s where I come in. Augustus put me in charge of training this recruit.”
Tiberius’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Hmm. He and I need to have a conversation.”
Judge got the impression Tiberius wasn’t too happy about him being there in the camp. It probably hadn’t helped that he’d found him and PJ in a compromising situation, bordering on a flogging offense.
“In the meantime,” PJ said, “we’ll move on to the next training site.”
Tiberius crossed his arms over his chest. “Which is?”
“Knives.” PJ looked to Judge. “Ready?”
Judge was more than ready to leave Tiberius. “Yes, ma’am.”
When PJ started to walk past Tiberius, he stepped in front of her.
She looked up at him, her lips pressed together. “Is there something else you need to discuss?”
“Tread carefully, PJ,” Tiberius said. “No one is indispensable.”
Judge’s hands clenched into fists. His protective instinct prodded him to take this asshole down before he could harm PJ.
