Burning Daylight (A Devil's Cartel MC Series #2) - Skyla Madi Page 0,2

of it. God. It’s creepy. “I can pay you a lot of money.”

It was a lie. I had no money to my name.

“Don’t want your money. Don’t need it.”

Sticks cracked and crunched under his big boots as he walked away, and that made him seem more human, less godly, so I followed him. In a few strides, we were drowned by the shadows of the undergrowth and Damon Judge wasn’t so scary as he stomped alongside trees that towered over him.

“If you just listen to me—ouch!” A rogue stick slipped between my sneaker and my skinny jeans and dug into my ankle, breaking the skin. I stumbled forward and, out of reflex, I reached out and grabbed his cut to stable myself. “Please, Damon—”

A vicious growl ripped through the forest and I gasped, my entire body tightening. I glanced over my shoulder, expecting a ferocious black bear to be right on my tail, when Damon’s cut was wrenched from my hand. I barely managed to straighten before he grabbed me by the shoulders and slammed me against the trunk of a thick tree. I hissed as the back of my skull connected with the solid wood and pain seared over my scalp, embedding in my eyes. Stars exploded then dissolved as quickly as they appeared, leaving me staring into the cold eyes of my last hope. How did my life dissipate to this? Me, Yasmine Garcia, begging the president of an outlaw motorcycle gang for help. I wish I never went to the Bahamas all those years ago. I wish I never met my ex-husband. I wish I never had my son, so I could spare his pure, beautiful soul this horrible life.

“Please,” I whispered, hating how many times I’d said that six-letter word to him tonight. “I’ll do anything.”

Judge pressed his hips to mine and dug the barrel of his gun into my jaw. It smelled like it’d been fired a hundred times in its lifetime. Would it take my life tonight?

He was everything the stories made him out to be. No. He was taller, wider, more handsome than I ever imagined. He smelled of bad things, of leather, smoke, and burned rubber. Judge hit me with a glare so frightening, but in their depths, curiosity and concern swirled.

“You’ll do anything?”

I regretted saying it already. “Within reason.”

“Reason,” he repeated, his upper lip twitching at the corner. Judge looked down at my covered breasts, then back to my face. “I’m not a reasonable man.”

My stomach knotted. Men like him were rarely reasonable, but I knew Judge could be. There were too many stories for it to be a myth. I stared at Judge, kept my eyes on his, not daring to glance at his lips. He didn’t need encouraging and, if I was wrong about him, who was around to hear me shout for help? Then he grinned and I slipped and watched his lips as they curled, exposing his white, and surprisingly perfect, teeth. My heart thundered.

“Mm,” he hummed, craning his neck to ghost his lips over mine. “Listen to that shallow breath. You want me to kiss you…”

I swallowed and shook my head. We were on a slippery slope and it confused me. I was a natural negotiator, born confident and steadfast, but in Judge’s presence, it was hard to communicate what I wanted. Perhaps it was because of all the things I knew he’d done—the things that weren’t so noble or lawful—that kept me from pushing him. Regardless, I was above exchanging sex for favors. I’d go back to my ex-husband long before I became the woman he told everyone I was.

“I think you do,” Judge whispered, and he softly flicked the tip of his tongue against my lower lip.

I gasped as my heart stuttered and my blood pressure went through the roof. Who the hell does he think he is?

“Get away from me,” I growled.

I thrust off the tree and slammed my hands against Judge’s wide chest. I gritted my teeth, clenched my jaw, and shoved him with everything I had. I didn’t thrust him off balance, hell, he didn’t even stumble, but he did step back, giving me the space I physically demanded. We stared at each other in silence and a nervous sweat formed in my palms

He simpered, wide and ridiculous, then turned away from me. Oh. I lifted my eyebrows. He’s leaving? I balled my fists and steeled my spine.

“Is that how Isabelle Laurent paid for your help?” I barked at him and