“Not you, kid,” Judge said, softening his voice and expression. “You can eat whatever you want.”

She nodded but kept her hands—and the waffle—tucked dutifully behind her.

Snagging my bag from the couch, I held it out to Glitch. When he didn’t take it, I followed his line of sight to see him studying Katarzyna, his head tilted to the side. I shoved the pack into his stomach. “Glitch.”

His focus shot to me as he took the bag with one hand and ran the other across his tattooed head. “Got everything?”

“Yup.” That was all I said on that.

I had no suspicions that I’d brought back a rat in terrified sheep clothing, but I still wasn’t talking in front of her. Too much was at risk.

“That doesn’t explain her,” Judge said, jerking his head toward Katarzyna. “She yours?”

Her wide eyes turned to me, filled with panic.

Glitch, on the other hand, was stoic as he stiffly moved to set my pack on a nearby pew. Not a flicker of emotion.

Ain’t that fuckin’ interesting…

Ophelia chose that moment to join us. “How’d everything…” Her words trailed off as her eyes narrowed on my hand. “Is that one of my waffles?”

“You got into the waffles already, you greedy bastard?” Swedes asked, trailing in behind his wife, Ria.

Katarzyna trembled so hard, she practically vibrated behind me.

Ophelia gave me a scowl that I knew was an act, but before she could open her mouth to throw her shitty version of shit-talk my way, Judge gave her ass a hard squeeze in a nonverbal warning.

Unfortunately, no one did the same to Swedes. “Slaved away all morning on those. Doubt they were even fully frozen, and here you—”

Nothing about the scowl that twisted Glitch’s face was fake. “Shut your fuckin’ mouth, Swedish.”

Swedes’s eyes went wide, but Ria looked ready to throw down for her husband. I was surprised she didn’t immediately pull out the taser she kept in her purse.

Or the set of brass knuckles.

But they were quick on the uptake, catching sight of Katarzyna’s hands hidden behind her back and putting the pieces together.

“Not talking about you, darling,” Swedish assured her. “You can have all the waffles you want. Rules don’t apply to the women here. Just ask my old lady or Ophelia.”

O nodded, giving a friendly smile. “It’s true. Say the word, and I bet Swedes will make you the best breakfast burrito you’ve ever had in your life. Carbs and cheese and grease.”

Katarzyna didn’t respond, but she also stopped shaking like a leaf in a hurricane.

“She’s not mine,” I said firmly, answering Judge’s earlier question and everyone else’s silent one. “She was Danes’ housekeeper.”