I made my way to the front door when the sound of glass crunched behind me.

In a blink, my piece was in my hand, and I turned.

Aiming it at a terrified housekeeper.

Around her early twenties, she was too young to look so jaded and wary and terrified.

She inched forward and opened her mouth before hesitating.

Felt like shit about it, but I was too tired and impatient to wait her out. “Let’s go.”

Her brows shot up. After a long moment, she admitted, “I cannot leave. I’m illegal.” Her heavy accent was Ukrainian. Maybe Polish.

“Don’t give a damn, we’ll figure it out. You have anything you need to grab?”

We did not have the time to pack her belongings. And even if we did, I didn’t have the energy to unload yet another moving van. But I wasn’t heartless. I wouldn’t make her leave behind family pictures or mementos or whatever shit normal people had.

She just shook her head, already heading for the door.

Decision made.

I gave her my helmet and helped her onto the bike behind me before taking off for the gate.

The closed gate.

“Oh no,” she cried loudly.

Defeated.

But it was connected to our system, and like when I’d arrived, a push of a button on my cell was all that was needed for it to rattle open.

Once we were through the wrought iron, I gunned it. I expected her to cling to me as I sped off, but she didn’t touch me, thank Christ. She stayed perched on the passenger, gripping the seat.

I’d have been worried she was on the verge of passing out if it weren’t for the occasional burst of laughter she let go.

Bubbling and carefree.

When was the last time I had a woman on the back of my bike?

Can’t even remember, it’s been so long.

As we rode, I thought about the panel, the job, and the woman I’d acquired.

Up till he tossed his woman in the back of a van, Judge had always been cool and collected. His brother—by patch and by blood—Jury wasn’t cool. He was downright cold.

Still, I was the most laidback of the brothers. Swedes might argue otherwise, but he lost his shit when it came to people messing around with his kitchen. And if they tampered with his cooking? He’d go to blows.

But I was always cracking jokes. Making them laugh. Getting stoned, going with the flow, and keeping shit calm. It took a lot for me to get riled. But when it happened, I got impulsive.

Like taking a whole damn woman with me.

4. Selfless Waffle Consumption

CHAPTER 4

SELFLESS WAFFLE CONSUMPTION

HOLLYWOOD

“How’d it…” Judge started as I walked into the clubhouse. His question was lost when his gaze locked behind me.