Judge had volunteered to take the lead. It hadn’t been his intention to get involved in bringing down a radical group bent on training an army of assassins, but here he was, armed to the teeth with a .30-06 Springfield rifle in the rack behind him, an AR-15 behind the back seat, a Glock in the shoulder holster concealed beneath his jacket and a .40 caliber handgun in the console.
His job now wasn’t to renovate the Lucky Lady. That work was almost complete. He was to infiltrate The Chosen Way. Hank’s computer guru, Swede, had gathered intelligence from the internet that The Chosen Way was recruiting again in the Whitefish, Montana, area.
Since Hank Patterson’s Brotherhood Protectors were given credit for the takedown of the last known location, the leader of The Chosen Way had done his homework and researched Hank and his organization. Hank had received death threats against him, his family and his entire team.
Since Judge and his team of renovators weren’t officially members of the Brotherhood Protectors, they’d agreed it made sense for them to provide the inside link. Judge had offered to go undercover.
He'd been in Whitefish now for a week, hanging out at the diner and the gun range just outside town.
On Saturday night, Judge pulled into the parking lot of the Last Chance Tavern and shifted into park. He’d run into men he suspected were part of The Chosen Way, a couple of whom he’d seen at the shooting range. particular, One had been helping to train another shooter using an AR-15. He’d followed them both here.
Judge entered the tavern, found an empty table at the back of the bar and sat with his back against the wall. Since he’d come to town, he always chose this table because he had a good vantage point to survey the entire room. The added advantage was the waitress who served that area of the bar. She had sandy-blond hair and pretty brown eyes, and she didn’t put up with guff from rowdy patrons.
She arrived at his table seconds after he was seated, wearing a tank top with the words Last Chance Tavern stretched across the swells of her breasts. Her cut-off jean shorts barely covered her ass, but the black combat boots gave her a don’t-fuck-with-me vibe Judge admired. He bet she could kick his ass despite his training as a Delta Force operator.
“The usual?” she asked with a smile.
He nodded.
She spun and hurried back to the bar.
Judge’s gaze followed the sway of her hips, his groin tightening. He could lose focus far too easily with that one. Too bad he wasn’t there to have fun, or he’d ask her out.
She’d probably tell him to go to hell, but he would be polite and persistent until she finally agreed.
How long had it been since he’d had a woman?
Too damned long, based on his body’s reaction to just the sight of her swaying hips. She had one helluva a hot body and a confidence that was even sexier.
Sadly, he wasn’t there to pick up a waitress. He was there to find The Chosen Way so his team could bring them down and put an end to their threats and their practice of abducting of women, men, boys and girls, whom they forced into a training program for their army of assassins.
Hopefully, in the process, he’d find Molly’s friend Penny and the woman who’d helped Liza and Tayla escape.
A man holding a longneck beer ambled across the barroom and stopped at Judge’s table. “Mind if I join you?”
Judge shrugged. “The chair’s free. Knock yourself out.” He recognized the man as the guy who’d been training the other man on the AR-15 at the range that afternoon.
The man dropped into the chair across from Judge and set the beer bottle on the table. “Saw you at the range today with that rifle and scope,” he said. “You’re a damned good shot.”
Judge nodded. “Thanks.”
The other man lifted his beer and tipped it toward Judge. “So, are you a hunter?”
“When I need to be,” Judge said.
The guy took a swig of his beer, swallowed, then cocked an eyebrow. “Gun enthusiast?”
“Never know when you’re gonna need one,” Judge said. “Pays to know how to use it.”
“Agreed,” the stranger said and took another swallow of beer. “You’re so right. You never know when you’ll need protection. Especially the way this country is going, what with mass shootings and the government trying to take away our second amendment right to bear arms.” He tilted his head to one side, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
Judge shook his head. “I take it you are?”
The man’s lips twisted. “Not really.”
“What brought you to Whitefish?” Judge asked. “It’s not like it’s on any beaten path. I can’t imagine there are a lot of job opportunities here.”
With a snort, the man set his bottle on the table. “You got that right. I’m not looking for a job, though. I’m looking for like-minded people.”
Judge raised his eyebrows. “Like-minded in what way?”
“People who aren’t offended by the fact that I own a gun, or two or three. People who aren’t offended if I disagree with the current establishment.” He lifted his chin toward Judge. “What about you? What brings you here?”
Judge’s lips twitched. “Looking for like-minded people.”
The waitress arrived with Judge’s beer and leaned close to set the bottle on the table. “Want me to start a tab?” As she straightened, a light, citrusy scent teased Judge’s nostrils, distracting him for a moment.
He shook his head to bring himself back to the task at hand. “No, thank you, ma’am. I’ll pay up now.” Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out his wallet.
The man across the table held up a hand. “I’ve got this.” To the waitress, he said, “Add it to my tab.”
“Do you want to close out or would you like another beer?” she asked.
“Close out.” He handed her cash.
She reached into the pocket of her jean shorts and counted out his change into his hand.
The guy stuffed the bills into his wallet without leaving a tip and returned it to his back pocket. He held out his hand to Judge. “Name’s Wiley.”
“As in Wiley Coyote?” Judge asked.
“That’s right,” the man said. “And you are?”
He took the man’s hand and gave it a firm shake. “Judge.”
“As in judge, jury and executioner?” Wiley asked.
“Something like that,” Judge said with a shrug.
Wiley stared across the table at him. “You tired of the way things are going?”
“Yeah,” Judge replied honestly.
“Ever wanted to make a difference in the world?” Wiley persisted.
“The thought has occurred to me,” Judge responded, his eyes narrowing. “Why?”
Wiley leaned toward him. “I know some people you should meet.”
“Is that so?” Judge couldn’t appear too interested too soon. “Sounds interesting.”
“Might be,” Wiley said. “They’re meeting tonight on Quarry Road. Know where that is?”
Judge wrapped his hand around his beer bottle. “Is that the turnoff just before the gun range?”
Wiley nodded. “They’ll be there around ten o’clock. If you happen to go out there, just tell them Wiley sent you.”