The Death Lords, Volumes 1-3: His Wild Desire, Her Secret Pleasure, Their Private Need (13 page)

Pippa

“You need something, Annie?” I ask. My assistant has been hovering around me like a bee to a flower the whole morning. She desperately wants to ask me a question and has been biting her tongue for hours. It’s got to be so sore by now. I take pity on her. “Is it about Judge Harrison?”

“I think he’s called Judge,” she quickly responds.

Annie’s the sweetest thing. She’s tall, a little gangly, with a cloud of soft brunette curls. Her father’s the pastor at the local Methodist church and besides playing the organ and serving as a part time secretary, she volunteers at the library two mornings a week and on Saturday.

She’s a complete treasure so I don’t really mind her curiosity about Judge. It’s not her fault that gossip travels faster in small towns than a bullet train in Japan.

“You know about the club?” I ask. Maybe we could trade information. I’d tell her that Judge is the beast she imagines him to be and she can tell me all about the town. I might as well learn a bit.

She scrunches her nose, not in distaste but frustration. “No, I wish I did. I hear they have the most amazing parties. And the guys in the club are incredibly good looking but my dad would have a complete coronary if I was seen with one of them.” She sighs wistfully. “But I would do a lot to ride on the back of one of their motorcycles.”

I give her a gentle smile as we log in the returned books. “‘Judge’ is his road name and you’re right, they generally only go by their road names.”

“Did you know Judge before you moved here? Is that why you came to Fortune? What about Chief Schmidt?” The questions tumble out, one on top of the other. She was clearly saving up.

“My dad’s a nomad—a biker who doesn’t have any club affiliation. He heard there was an opening for a librarian in Fortune and sent the news back to me. I thought it would be wonderful to be a director of a library, in charge of acquisitions, setting up programs and helping others find the right book for them so I applied and here I am.” I spread out my hands.

Annie’s eyes get wider at the mention of my dad’s loose connections with Judge’s club. “Have you ridden on the back of a bike before?”

Smiling, I gather up the books and place them on a cart for Annie to shelve. “Yes, but it was my father’s.”

She’s disappointed by this and I kill her fantasies more when I tell her that Judge is just a friend. “Judge came by last night at the behest of my father. He’s checking up on me.”

That doesn’t really explain why I drove into town with Judge in my car but I’m saved when two moms walk in with their kids and I escape before Annie can question me further.

We’re both kept busy throughout the rest of the morning. About an hour before lunch, a tall, muscular man wearing a Death Lords cut and sporting hair too pretty and too long to be worn by a male walks in. His black boots make a thud against the wooden floor. Every eye turns to him. The women titter and the children gasp. Every female above the age of twelve takes in his solid legs and nice ass encased in a pair of worn denim.

“I’m looking for the mysteries,” he announces to one blushing Annie. She fumbles with a book in her hand but before it can drop to the ground, he catches it and presses it back into her grasp.

I have never seen a human being turn as red as Annie does under this roughneck’s perusal—and I’m a redhead! We blush when the sun comes out and someone says bless you.

“Th-thank you,” she stammers. “The mysteries are over by the window.”

The biker, who still hasn’t released Annie’s hands, leans toward her and in a loud whisper says, “You’ll have to lead me there. I’m afraid I’ll get lost without you.”

The library isn’t bigger than a one-room schoolhouse. A mouse couldn’t get lost in here but if it’s even possible, Annie’s red deepens. She’s probably cooking her heart at this point. “Um, sure,” she says. As they walk away, the biker turns and gives me a wink.

I shake my head in resignation and he laughs.

Annie comes scurrying back after about ten minutes of hushed discussion. The biker has settled into a chair, his long legs outstretched, a hardcover release of Lee Child’s latest lying on the table in front of him. He’s not reading though. He’s scanning every occupant in the library and watching the door carefully.

“Who’s that, Annie?” I ask when she reaches my side.

“Easy,” she says. “He and Michigan were Marine battle buddies. They’re pretty high up in the club according to their patches. Officers, I think, but I’m not sure. The club’s pretty tight about their details and their patches aren’t like the ones I’ve seen on the Internet.”

“You’ve done research?” I ask, trying not to sound like a concerned parent.

“Like a good librarian,” she answers with more confidence than I thought she possessed. Easy had a powerful affect on Annie. I wonder if her interest in the club stemmed from general curiosity or something—make that someone—very specific.

With some effort, I push aside Easy’s presence. Arguing about him being here or even complaining to Judge will have little effect. What I need to do is sublease my trailer and find a new place to live before the next city council meeting.

“Annie, do you know of any cheap apartments in town?” I ask when I come back from lunch. The library crowd has thinned out and there are only a few people in here. The town newspaper didn’t yield leads that my budget could afford until I was able to sublease the trailer but maybe Annie, a local, would have a tip.

“I thought you had a place,” she says. Easy pretends like he’s not paying attention but the subtle shift in his body reveals he’s listening to everything we say. And reporting it back to Judge.

“Unfortunately the city council may enforce the requirement in my employment contract to live within the city limits. Mayor Heinz had thought that the property being in the unincorporated area would be okay.”

She crinkles her forehead and then gasps loudly. “It’s Schmidthead, isn’t it?” She claps a hand over her mouth and looks around to see if anyone has heard her.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Easy smirk.

Lowering my voice, I respond, “If you hear anything let me know.”

“You could stay with me until you found a better place. It’s my dad and me at the parish house. It’s small but definitely within the town limits.”

Before I can answer, there’s a loud commotion outside the library. Easy jumps out of his chair and runs to the door. His phone rings and so does mine.

“What it is?” I call to Easy but he’s answering his phone. To the teenager, mom and two toddlers who are the only library patrons left, I calmly motion for them to come to the desk. “Why don’t you gather your things and bring your books up to check out.”

Easy disappears out the door and I let whoever is calling me go to voicemail. Annie and the teenager are staring out the windows but the mom comes up. “How old are your adorable children?” I ask the mom whose library card says Karen Sullivan.

“Three and four,” she says with a smile. She’s either completely unperturbed or trying to hide it for her kids.

Either way I’m going to act as if there aren’t shouts going on outside and that someone big, tough and leather-clad didn’t leap out like there was real danger. My phone rings again. I smile at Ms. Sullivan and her kids.

“I love Dr. Seuss,” I tell the older child as I scan the barcode of the books.

“Me too,” he lisps.

Adorable. I cut off five stickers for each child. “Here you are. These are book plates. You can put them inside of the books you own and then when you lend them to your friends, they’ll remember to return the books to you.”

“Thankth,” he answers. His little brother is more interested in his frog toy than discussing books.

“I really like the new programs you have listed for the fall,” Ms. Sullivan says as she collects the checked-out books and tucks them into her bag.

“Great. I hope to see you at some of them.”

“You will,” she says and gathers her boys.

When the door to the library opens next, it is Chief Schmidt. He holds the door open for the Sullivans. “Nice to see you, Karen.” He nods as the mom and two kids file out. He turns toward the window where Annie and the teenager are standing in near-identical poses with their hands behind their backs, looking guilty. “Merribel Allen, you should head home.”

“Yes, sir,” the teen replies meekly and takes off, rushing by me and Schmidt.

Then it is Annie, myself and the chief. “You too, Annie,” he says.

“Sorry, I’m still on the clock.” She crosses the room and slides behind the desk next to me and gives my hand a squeeze. “And if this is about the residency clause, Pippa is moving in with Dad and me.”

Eric looks confused for a moment as if he has so many blackmail attempts going on he can’t keep track of them all. His brow clears and he glares at Annie. “You have a two bedroom home provided by the parish. There’s no room for Pippa there.” He turns to me. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself, taking advantage of young Annie like this. You knew the terms of the contract and decided to flaunt it.”

I hate that I flush so easily because I could feel the heat scorching my cheeks under the hard glare of his eyes. A man in a position of authority like Eric can make a person feel small and imperiled with a look.

Annie throws her arm across my shoulders. “I’m twenty-three, hardly a child, and
I
invited
her,
not the other way around.”

Gathering myself, I take a deep breath. “Thank you for your thoughts, Chief Schmidt. Is there anything that you need from the library today?”

“You need to—”

Before he finishes his command, the door opens and in walks Judge, Easy and another man dressed in the same leather cut and full of dark menace. Annie squeaks and moves closer to me. Judge does look angry but it’s all directed at Eric.

“This where you hold your church meetings now?” Eric sneers.

“There’s a mess on the sidewalk you need to clean up,” Judge replies. “Annie, Easy and Michigan are going to stay here until the library closes. Pippa, you’re with me.”

“I would like to know what is going on and I’m not moving until someone explains.” I fold my arms across my chest and give the four males on the other side of the wooden divide my best
shh, it’s the library
look. Annie copies me and we glare at the men. If Judge really wants to spend quality time with me, he’s going to learn quick that while I might enjoy certain behavior in the bedroom it does not mean I want to be ordered around at my own damn job.

The two men in leather cuts turn to Judge for direction. It’s as if Eric doesn’t even exist for them. Judge is the only one they will listen to.

Judge and I stare at each other. His eyes are saying
I’m trying to protect you
.

While mine shoot back
I’m not some dog to order around.

His lips quirk up on the side and he gives me a tiny nod. Strolling to the desk, he leans one arm on it and turns to Eric. “You better get going. Mrs. C’s upset the mess is going to keep the good people of Fortune from getting into the grocery.”

Eric wants to argue. He opens his mouth but my neighbor, Mrs. Carmichael, opens the door.

“There you are, Chief Schmidt!” she cries. The careful curls of her blue-gray hair don’t move as she bobs her head in agitation. “Please come out right now and take care of the situation.”

The lines around his mouth tighten. He doesn’t like to be told what to do and worse, he doesn’t enjoy looking as if he can be ordered around by a little old lady. All of us, except for maybe Judge, look down to avoid revealing any mirth at Eric’s predicament. Judge stares at Eric impassively.

Finally Eric moves toward the exit. “We’ll talk later,” he calls back.

I suppose it was directed at me but Judge answers instead. “I’m here for you anytime, Chief Schmidt. Sorry about the trouble, Mrs. C.”

“Good thing your boys were around. You should come in and get an ice cream treat from my cooler before you go home,” Mrs. C instructs the two other men.

“We’re making sure that Fortune stays safe,” Easy grins. “But I’ll be in for my ice cream treat.”

After Eric leaves, Judge hauls a chair over and places it in front of the desk. “Michigan. Easy. You two take Miss Annie home.”

He drops his ass onto the desk and takes out a wicked-looking knife from his pocket and proceeds to lay that on his knee. Easy saunters over to the table where he’d been sitting, picks up the Lee Child book and hands it to Judge. “I didn’t get past Chapter One so let me know if the French president eventually bites it.”

At Annie’s wide-eyed surprise, Easy responds, “Told you I read the series.”

She sniffs and puts her small nose up. “I never said you didn’t.”

“Go on, Annie. I can handle it,” I urge. Whatever needs to be said between Judge and me could do without witnesses. Annie scurries off and I am soon alone in the small library with Judge, his lethal knife and the books.

“I want to know what happened, why you’re here. Why you sent one of your men here and what the mess was outside. Start talking or get out.”

Judge shifts in the chair and raises one ankle to prop on the opposite knee. “Let’s see. A couple of punks with Nazi tattoos on their necks decided to spray-paint your car with a couple of poorly spelled insults. Michigan, who’d been watching the library, saw it happen and apprehended the two. He zip-tied their wrists and ankles and left them lying on the sidewalk while he called me. I called you a couple of times but you didn’t want to answer. These guys are probably patches for the skinhead gang up north. We think they’re trafficking meth down the river and that Schmidt turns a blind eye in return for a cut of the money and favors like getting revenge against a woman who scorned him—which is why Schmidthead wandered inside instead of taking the trash out.”

“You believed something was going to happen which is why you sent Easy inside and your…Michigan outside.”

He nods.

“Why didn’t you say something to me on the ride in?” I hold up my hand before he can answer. “And don’t tell me you didn’t want to worry me.”

He settles back into his chair but doesn’t respond.