Page 12 of Judge’s Redemption

She accepts that and pushes a red crayon toward me. “You can do some drawing too.”

I take the crayon and sit beside her. For tonight, it's enough and also everything.

CHAPTER 3

SHAY

Judge doesn't miss a single visit.

For the next three weeks, he arrives when he says he will, usually a few minutes early.

He doesn't bring more presents after the crayons. He asks before giving her anything and never tells her who he is. Whenever Evie asks a question that sounds dangerously like a promise, he looks at me before he answers. I hate how much that matters.

On the third Tuesday, I come out of the salon and find Judge waiting beside his bike. His cut hangs open over a black T-shirt, tattooed arms folded across his broad chest while he speaks to Gray.

I've seen Gray around town a few times since coming back. He's quieter than most of the Kingdom Come men, watchful in a way that suggests he's already noticed every person, vehicle, and possible exit on the street.

Judge says something low. Gray glances toward a dark sedan parked across from the diner, gives one nod, and swings onto his motorcycle.

Judge turns toward us. The hard set of his face changes the moment he sees Evie. Not much. It doesn't need to. His shoulders loosen. His eyes warm. The dangerous vice president who had Gray listening without interruption crouches as Evie walks toward him.

“You came!” she says.

“I said I would didn’t I?”

She holds out her hand as though there was never any question he would take it. His large hand closes carefully around hers, and something inside my chest twists.

Evie swings their joined hands once. “Mommy says we have to get groceries.”

Judge rises. “Sounds dangerous.”

“It is. She believes every cereal box with a cartoon animal is essential.”

“They have prizes,” Evie tells him.

“They have lots of sugar.” I remind her.

She looks up at Judge. “Mommy doesn't like fun cereal.”

His mouth twitches. “Your mom never liked anybody telling her what she should enjoy.”

The words land differently than he intends. His expression shifts. Mine closes.

Evie keeps walking, unaware of the air sharpening between us. Judge doesn't explain. He simply falls into step beside us, Evie between us and the sedan across the road sitting heavily at the edge of my thoughts.

When I glance toward it again, it's gone.

The sedan returns on Thursday.

It's parked half a block from the salon beneath a sycamore tree, its windows too dark for me to see who's inside.

Dottie notices it before I do. “That car was here Tuesday too.” She says while peering out of the salon window.

“Maybe it’s somebody works nearby.”

“Nobody with a car that expensive works anywhere on this block.”

I clip another section of my client's hair and force myself not to look again. Judge and Gray noticed it too. That should reassure me. Instead, it reminds me what kind of world follows the men of Kingdom Come. When my client leaves, the sedan is gone again.