The man this hulking fortress as he stood guard over the bar.
“Yeah, I think so.” I lifted the envelope stuffed with my tips as if it were proof. What had to be close to five-hundred dollars was tucked inside. I was never going to get used to the type of cash that flowed through this club.
“Not a lot to complain about when you work in a place like this,” he said, inky eyes appraising.
I huffed out a short laugh. “No. There isn’t much to complain about.”
“Yet, you look upset.”
My laughter shifted to disbelief, and I glanced around, trying to gauge his point. What he was getting at. I returned my attention to him and gave him the honesty he was looking for. “I might have hurt someone I didn’t mean to earlier today.”
Jud lifted his bearded chin. “Didn’t mean to?” It was only a partial question, words meant to sift around inside my head for my intentions because he was protective, too.
“Sometimes when we’re scared, we say things we don’t mean as a way to protect ourselves,” I answered.
“And sometimes that’s all we can do…protect ourselves. Ones we love.” There was a message hidden in his words.
My throat thickened. “I understand that.”
Jud angled his head to the side. “Do you?”
My mouth trembled at the edge, and I fiddled with the envelope, my questions floating out on the murky atmosphere. “I want to, but I might be at a disadvantage.”
He studied me, warring, before he gave me a little insight. “Guess all you need to know is sometimes good people have to do bad things.”
Right.
Okay.
Another warning.
As vague as it was bleak, though it wasn’t like I was surprised. It was clear things went so much deeper here at Absolution than the façade of the walls.
The enchantment of this world had convinced me of make-believe things. But this was no fairytale, and Trent Lawson was no knight in shining armor.
“I see.”
“Not sure you can handle it, darlin’.”
I didn’t know if he was looking out for me or his brother.
“I don’t break as easily as I look.”
His eyes raked me, head to toe. “Not always the physical wounds that do the breaking, though they’ve been known to cut just as deep.”
Everything shivered.
My soul and my mind.
What was I getting myself into? But I’d already known I was straddling that line from the get-go. Teetering a razor-sharp edge that could slice me in two.
Corruption clear. Unquestionable. And still, I was trying to figure out where I might fit.
“Do you include yourself in that company?”
He blew out a sigh. “Think this is a conversation that needs to be had between you and Trent.”
“I doubt your brother is going to offer up details.” Besides, Jud was the one who’d brought it up.
“Try him. Think he’s feeling as confused as you.” His expression turned sincere. As if he saw the turmoil burning within.
“I doubt that,” I told him, not sure I could believe Trent could ever be as confused as I was right then.
He huffed a soft sound. “You don’t strike me as a doubter, Miss Murphy. You strike me as someone who believes. As someone who shines.” He gestured back toward the club. “You’d do well not to let this place dim that.”
Another warning.
I couldn’t tell if this guy was sweet and caring or terrifying. If his advice was meant to give me comfort or drive me away.
Emotion clogged my throat. “I don’t have any intention of that.”
“Good girl.”
I gave him a tight nod and started to walk away, only to slow when his voice called to me from behind. “He deserves someone who will see him for who he really is, Eden. Not for what he’s done.”
Warily, I shifted to look at Jud from over my shoulder.
Fear spiraled through, twined with the knowledge that Jud was affording.
“I’m worried he’s becoming the only thing I can see,” I whispered.
His head dipped, and we stared at each other for a moment. A silent understanding weaving between the two of us.
Finally, I tore myself away and rushed the rest of the way into the locker room.
I changed quickly, ridding myself of the leather shorts and knee-high boots, the Absolution tee that felt like some sort of branding, almost sighing out in relief when I pulled on the dress I’d had on earlier that day and slipped into my flats.
I stuffed everything into my bag and headed out through the side door, smiling softly at Milo who was again standing his post. “Goodnight, Milo.”
“Drive safe, little dove.” His voice was a deep, masculine rumble. The man a burly, brutal monster with the kindest eyes.
Nervously, I glanced around, still unsure, wishing there was a way to go back to this afternoon and handle it differently. With kindness and compassion rather than with knives and whips.
The only other person in the lot was Leann, and she waved goodbye like I was her oldest friend. I gave her a wave in return before I darted in the direction of my car parked across the lot.