Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107595 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107595 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“I am thinking about her. I’m setting her and Cassie free.”
“No, you’re thinkin’ about yourself again. Just like when you stole that money from a goddamn kids’ cancer charity. Was all about Dennis Lange. Fuck everybody else.”
“That’s not true!” he screamed into the still night.
“Then prove it. Give Cassie what she wants, the fuckin’ divorce and you out of her life.”
Lange nodded. “Fine. I’ll sign. I’ll sign and then you’ll let me go.”
The gun in his hand shook and his finger was way too close to the trigger. The man probably didn’t know the first thing about guns. That could be a good thing or a very bad thing, depending if things went sideways.
But Judge wasn’t going to wait for that.
Lange jabbed the gun in his direction. “Step back. I need to go to the other side of the car.”
Judge took a step back, giving Lange space to move around the Dodge. He followed the man, staying a few feet away but close enough to make a grab for the gun if he got the opportunity.
And he needed to get it. Because there was no way Lange was going on the run again. Judge was delivering his ass to the bail bondsman in New York, getting his cut and giving that scratch to Cassie. It would hardly make a dent in what she lost but it would be a start.
She’d get some money, get her divorce and finally be free of the man who was reaching for the passenger-side door handle.
And as he did, Judge saw his opening. He interlaced his fingers and lunged at Lange, bringing both connected fists down on his wrist. As he struck it, Lange cried out and dropped the gun. Judge put his boot on it so Lange couldn’t recover it, then snagged the surprised man by the throat, shoving him against the car.
Judge squeezed hard enough to make the man’s mouth open and close as he struggled for air. He leaned in until his face was in Lange’s. Then he gave Cassie’s ex a little lesson. “I am the Judge. I am the jury. And I am the fuckin’ enforcer. I alone decide what happens to you.” He flexed his fingers around the man’s throat. “Right now, I have your life in my hand, and decide whether you live or die. Not you.”
He pulled the Dodge keys from Lange’s coat pocket and shoved them into his. There was no way he was letting this man escape.
Cassie’s life would turn around with what happened tonight in this very goddamn empty lot. A lot that held history for the Fury. A lot that held more recent history between Judge and Cassie.
The night he found her crying because of the fucker he was currently strangling. He reluctantly loosened his fingers and let the man breathe.
“Gonna let you loose. You do somethin’ stupid, you’re gonna regret it. You get me?”
“I’ll sign the papers if you let me go.”
“You’ll sign those fuckin’ papers ‘cause I said you’re signin’ those fuckin’ papers. I’m tired of this shit. You’re wastin’ time. Now get in there and do it.” Judge yanked Lange away from the car, opened the passenger side door and shoved him toward the open doorway. Lange stumbled but caught himself on the door frame and while he was climbing into the passenger seat, Judge kicked the man’s gun away, spinning it into the dark and out of reach. He’d deal with it later. Right now, he needed to watch Lange do what Cassie needed him to do.
Lange, now sitting in the passenger seat with the stack of papers on his lap, said, “I… I have a pen in the glovebox. I’m going to reach for it.”
“Do it slow and don’t do anything stupid,” Judge warned him.
Lange opened the glove box and dug around with Judge watching his every fucking move.
And once he pulled out that pen, he began to sign those damn papers Judge never wanted to hear about again after tonight. Thank fuck it would finally be over.
Lange flipped through the pages, signing on every line one of those little plastic arrows pointed at. When he was done, he put the pen back in the center console instead of the glove box and when he pulled his hand back out, he had another gun in it. This time what looked like a fucking snub-nosed .38 revolver was pointed at Judge.
For fuck’s sake. He should’ve strangled the motherfucker.
“Back off,” Lange shouted at him. This time the man’s finger was securely on the trigger and the hammer was cocked, too.
Lange was desperate and desperate people were dangerous, so Judge reluctantly took a step back. But gun or not, Judge wasn’t allowing Lange to escape.
“You were wrong. You don’t decide whether I live or die.” He put the barrel of the handgun to his own temple. “I do.”