Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“Do you have something for me, God?” Judge asked, first. Michaels glared at him and Judge gave Michaels a good once over, licking his lips seductively, and catching the angry man completely off-guard.
“Yes. I do. My contact in the Miami PD told me the girlfriend went to the post office to apply for a passport. She’s never had one before so… bam… I think we know why she’s trying to get one now.”
“Yep,” Michaels and Judge both said at the same time.
Michaels rolled his eyes. “Any sightings on Switch?”
“No. But I’m sure he’ll get there soon. We’ll wait it out until he does. How long until you get to Miami?” God asked no one in particular, so Judge answered.
“We were sitting on the cousin today. I’ll head that way tomorrow.”
“Sounds good,” Day chimed in. “There’s a Pink Flamingo hotel up the block from the girlfriends condo. Park it there. You should be able to watch things from a room facing the street.”
“What if he doesn’t come in the next few days? What are you going to do about the Chief?” Michaels asked.
“Let me handle the suits,” God said, forcibly. “You stay focused on what you’re doing, Michaels.”
“Okay,” Michaels said, and disconnected the call.
Judge couldn’t read the expressions on Michaels’ face, but the nervousness and anxiety was radiating off him in waves. He’d heard in their briefing that Michaels was the one that had chased their suspect and lost him, so the guy had to be beating himself up. He seemed like a damn perfectionist anyway.
“We’ll head out tomorrow. He’ll be in your custody before you know it. This guy isn’t gonna stall. He’ll be anxious to get out of the country, not only from you but from everyone else he’s pissed off because of this dick move he made.” Judge tried to reason.
“Hope you’re right, Judge,” Michaels said softly, as Judge pulled away from the curb.
“I’m always right.” Judge was surprised at the slight smile playing across that beautiful face. Damn. I’m so fucked.
Chapter Sixteen
Michaels didn’t question why Judge had pulled into a rundown dive an hour outside of Gainesville. It wasn’t late; they could’ve stayed on the road and gotten that much closer to Miami. He was beyond anxious by that point. He wanted Switch in custody, along with the drugs. He was getting pissed at Judge too. The guy had been acting weird. He couldn’t pick up on if Judge was trying to get a rise out of him or if the guy was actually checking him out. No. He can’t be gay.
“Get your stuff. We’re staying here.” Judge confirmed. He slid his seatback up, and Bookem bounded out of the car and ran straight through the open bar door.
“Um.”
“Don’t worry about him,” Judge cut in.
Okay. Michaels pulled his own duffle bag from out of the back and followed Judge inside. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust from the bright Florida sun to the dark, murky interior of the old-style bar. Maybe Judge knew something about this place that he couldn’t see. There were only a few old-timers in there nursing beers, all of their eyes on the bass-fishing show playing quietly on the forty-two inch television mounted on the far wall over a pool table.
“Give me a shot of whisky old man, and none of that cheap shit you pour out to these guys,” Judge yelled when he went in.
Michaels looked around, more than a little stunned at Judge’s rudeness, but even more so at the way the guys laughed it off. An older man that looked exactly like Judge except for the long gray ponytail braided down his back, stood behind the bar. He was big and surely intimidating at one time in his life, but now it looked like age had set in. His eyes were still hard and calculating just like Judge’s. But he was slightly hunched over and had a hard time shuffling over to the end of the bar. Michaels went closer and watched the exchange as Judge hugged the man close to him, patting him gently on his back.
“Hey, Pop. How you feeling?” Judge’s entire demeanor was different. Caring, affectionate. It was attractive.
“I’m good, son. How’s the hunting game?”
“Same hunt, just a different jungle,” Judge said, quietly. He waited while his father slowly reached behind the register, sliding a cabinet up and pulling out a half-empty bottle of dark liquor. He set two shot glasses down on the bar and Michaels took that as his cue to sit down.
“You still chewing that sugarcane, huh?” His father chuckled.
“It works, Pop. I haven’t had a single cigarette in four months. I think the craving is under control, now it’s just the habit.” Judge pulled the chewed stick from his mouth and tossed in the trash behind the bar.
“Who’s your young squire here? Did you finally let Duke talk you into using a partner?” His dad smiled genuinely, shakily filling up the glasses in front of him.