It was ridiculous to even consider though. Jude was a nobody. He was a job. He was a stranger who needed to be brought in alive, and then Kicks could wash his hands of him forever.
Yet, he couldn’t stop thinking about him. Even away from the house, the man’s dark, laughing eyes stuck with him. And it was worse knowing Jude was scared of him, because Kicks didn’t need two functional eyes to see the terror behind Jude’s gaze. It was there in the tremble of his voice, too, and the way his hands shook as they pulled up to the house.
The feeling burned in his gut, and he realized after some time that it was guilt. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt it. Not like this, anyway. It paled in comparison to the niggling feeling he got every time he had to tell Maddie no, and she cried. This was hot, pressing against the inside of his sternum, and it made him want to go back inside and promise that he would never hurt Jude. That everything was going to be just fine.
But Kicks wasn’t entirely sure he believed that.
Not only did he not trust himself to leave any man behind unscathed, he still wasn’t sure whether or not they had a tail. And he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. Of course, that could be what they wanted. It was the most basic psychological warfare, worse than showing up with guns blazing—because the anticipation would eventually drive them over the edge. The longer he was looking over his shoulder, the more paranoid he’d become, and eventually he’d make a mistake.
He dug his phone out of his pocket and quickly dialed up his President. “This better not be bad news,” Smokey demanded, his voice rumbling out of the speaker.
“We’re at the house,” Kicks said. “I didn’t see anyone following us, but something in my gut keeps tellin’ me I’m missing something.”
Smokey was quiet a long time. “You want me to send back-up?”
Kicks pressed his curled fist to his forehead and pushed until it hurt. “No,” he said when he let go. “Not yet. Even if shit goes down, I’m pretty sure I can handle it. I think this guy’s enough like this brother that he won’t panic if I need to open fire.”
Smokey grunted, sounding unhappy. “I’m tempted to have you both roll out right now. I don’t think this cover of darkness bullshit is going to help.”
“These guys are ballsy enough to fucking shoot your ass on a college campus,” Kicks reminded him, and he heard Smokey sigh. “I’m not saying I’m gonna have better luck if we wait, but if I have to take one of these motherfuckers out, I’d rather not do it with a freeway full of witnesses.”
“Yeah, I get it,” Smokey said, sounding resigned. “Just get home in one piece. I’m ready to end this shit.”
Kicks was too. He knew their lives would never be peaceful, but he was goddamn tired of the mind games. It wasn’t what he signed up for when he put the cut on and pledged his loyalty to this man. And he knew it wasn’t Smokey’s fault. Everyone was starting to buckle under the strain of not knowing when the next attack was going to come. But Kicks didn’t do well with this underhanded shit.
“I’ll let you know when we hit the road,” he said after a beat. “Who do you want me to call if shit goes sideways?”
“Gunner,” Smokey told him. “He’s at the clubhouse taking care of some shit. If he’s home with Mads, he’ll get Hawke on it since he’ll be at his shop til one.”
“Alright. Let me know if you hear anything,” Kicks said. “Otherwise, I’ll see you when I get in.”
He shoved his phone back into his pocket, took a breath, and looked over at the house. It was lit with the mid-afternoon glow, a harsh reminder that they had hours left of each other’s company and nothing to do with it. Kicks knew he couldn’t be a coward and hide out in the trees all damn day, but he didn’t like what the guy was doing to him. And he especially didn’t like how little control he seemed to have after only knowing the guy a couple of hours.
It just didn’t make any goddamn sense. Kicks just…wasn’t into people. He wasn’t into letting his body decide for his brain that it wanted someone or something. He had spent the last several years making sure he’d never make the same mistake again—that he would never, ever be vulnerable to a stranger.
So in the rare moments when it happened, it usually made him furious. But with Jude, it was different. It felt soft, and it felt warm. Something about the man made him want to drop his guard and let himself go, and that terrified him more than anything. He functioned as well as he did because he trusted himself, but if he was willing to let go for even a second with a man he didn’t know…
Well, he wasn’t quite sure what to do with that.
Part of him wanted to curl up against a tree and wait out the night, but he also realized it wasn’t fair to let Jude rot in that house alone. He hadn’t asked for any of this. Kicks was here to take him back to his brother because his life was in danger for something he wasn’t part of. So while he might not have been a particularly good man, he at least understood empathy enough to put one foot in front of the other and make his way back to the house.
When he walked into the great room, he found Jude in the living room peering at a dusty stack of old paperback books that were haphazardly stacked along the shelves. “See anything good?”
“Loads of old Stephen King and Dean Koontz,” Jude said with a small grin, turning his head to look over his shoulder. “I have to admit, it’s not what I expected when we got here.”
“What were you expecting?” Kicks asked. He moved to the sofa and stared at the dust before dropping to the floor and resting his back against it. It felt good to stretch his legs out, even when the twisted muscles in his back started to spasm. “A den of debauchery?”
“A den of debauchery?” Jude parroted, though it sounded nicer in his accent.
Kicks huffed, shrugging one shoulder, and he turned his head to see the man a little more clearly. “Booze and bitches? Is that better?”
Jude’s smile widened even as he rolled his eyes, and he shuffled over before he sat, his back to the fireplace. “I honestly had no real idea what I was walking into. This is a bit…out of my realm of expertise.”
“They didn’t teach you how to cope with being kidnapped by a biker in rabbi school?” Kicks asked, and he felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Jude chuckled and shook his head. “Is that what this is? I thought it was a rescue.”
Kicks gave him a non-committal noise, ignoring the fluttering sensation in his gut.
“Rabbinical school prepared me for quite a lot, if I’m being honest. Just not in the ways I expected,” Jude said. He dragged one knee up toward his chest and curled an arm around it. The flexibility in his body was almost mesmerizing, and Kicks was on the verge of running again. His cock was flaccid, but there was a warmth in his gut he didn’t know what to do with. “I did spend a lot of nights not doing the readings I was supposed to and instead, wasted my time devouring comics.”
Kicks’ brows rose. “Didn’t take you for the nerdy type.”
“That’s offensive and judgmental,” Jude shot back. “I’m perfectly capable of being many things.”