When Chopper didn’t seem to comply, I made a grunting noise that was grown out of frustration, and then laid him back down on his side.
“That’s it,” Emmy said.
Eventually Chopper looked away from me, which, according to what I saw him do with Jude, was a sign of submission.
“You’ll have to practice that a couple more times, but you get the idea,” Jude said, standing up.
“You’ll get the hang of it, Cory,” Emmy said and I nodded. “Don’t want Chopper kicked out of here or anywhere else.”
When I looked up Jude was stroking Patch’s ears and the dog was leaning into his legs. He was like the damn pied piper of dogs.
I let Chopper up and as if no showdown ever occurred between us, he scuttled away to sniff along the fence.
“You’re good with dogs,” Emmy said, smiling at Jude. “Need a new pet? Patch is up for adoption.”
“Patch is Emmy’s favorite dog and she’s hoping to find him a good home,” I said. Something came alive in Jude’s eyes, as if he’d remembered my earlier story about taking a dog from the shelter before Chopper came along.
Emmy patted Patch’s head. “He really likes you.”
Suddenly Jude’s eyes grew dim and he withdrew his hand from the dog. “Sorry. Wish I could.”
He tipped his chin as a good-bye and as he headed for the back of the property, I knew I had lost him yet again to whatever darkness was inside him.
“Thanks for your help,” I said, lifting my hand in a wave.
As he scaled the fence and wheeled off, we gathered up the dogs.
“He likes you,” Emmy said, looking over my shoulder to the skate park.
“You sure about that?” I almost grumbled, because Jude had completely rattled me again.
“I may be a girl, but I know when a guy is not interested in my team,” she said, throwing my earlier words back at me. “He’s interested in you.”
“Nice to hear,” I said, almost grim. “But not sure that’s ever going to happen. It’s hard enough just getting any words out of him.”
“I don’t think he would’ve scaled that fence had you not been on the other side,” Emmy said, picking up her stride and walking ahead of me. “Just sayin’ . . .”
Chapter Sixteen
The following night I rode to the Hog’s Den and sat at the bar to listen to the pub chatter and take note of any backroom meetings, without appearing too obvious. I felt driven to try to understand the kind of danger Jude might be in. And call me stupid—protect him if I could.
The place was quiet tonight, save for some regulars I had gotten used to seeing over the past few months. When it was slow like this, Vaughn had more time to talk at the bar and he liked to tell stories about his crazy childhood and his adventures on some old dirt bike on the back roads in his rural town. He was animated and held a captive audience and I realized how much I’d grown to like him.
Outside of his tough look, shaggy hair, and leather vest, you’d never know that he was hard-core involved in shit with the Disciples of the Road. He could’ve been any bartender at any establishment in the Midwest.
But after a while my nerves got the best of me, so instead of calling attention to how badly I’d shredded the napkin in front of me, I stood up to find something else to do with my hands. I was about to rack up my balls to play a solo game of pool, when I realized I had left my bottle of half-finished beer over by Vaughn.
My fingers closed around the bottle just as Jude opened the front door and strode to the bar. He took my breath away in his tight T-shirt and dark wash jeans. He normally wore long skater shorts to the knees but tonight he looked like my typical type, a guy I might consider taking home, with his hair pulled away from high cheekbones and his black Converse sneakers. He was like a wet dream and I could actually hear my breath stutter in my lungs. Fuck, I needed to pull myself together.
“Order will be up soon,” Vaughn said to Jude and then he gave me a once-over before turning to dry off some damp bar glasses.
Jude nodded and then leaned back on the bar, slowly turning his gaze on me, as if he was unsure whether or not he should even be talking to me in this place. But the Disciples knew he was my client and we’d had enough appointments by now to get to know each other in the casual sense.
“Uh . . . how’s your ink healing?” I said just to make conversation and also to make it seem like that was the only reason I’d be talking to Jude York at the MC bar.
He nodded and I realized there was no way in hell he was going to chat me up in public and certainly not on this turf. Besides, hadn’t they seen him take off on the back of my hog the other night? Who was I kidding?
Still, I felt frustrated that we couldn’t be friendlier with each other. What the fuck did it matter? I wasn’t going to jump him on his barstool and shove my tongue down his throat. In fact, I was pretty sure I’d never get to experience that tongue, so what the hell did I have to lose?
“Want to play a quick game of pool while you wait?”
He looked unsure of himself and momentarily rattled. His gaze darted toward the back door, where the others members of the MC usually met, and then his eyes swung to Vaughn.
“Go on,” Vaughn said. “I’ll call you when your food’s up.”
Jude nodded, seemed to pull himself together, and then followed me to the pool table on the other side of the room.
Not wanting it to appear like anything other than a friendly and random game of pool, I made the first shot and watched as a couple of solids and stripes sank in the side and far pockets.