traffic sounds. He glanced around for a quick exit, and when his gaze returned to Kicks, he saw the man watching him with a raised brow and half a smirk.
“Thinking about going for a jog?”
Jude bristled and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Are you the comedian of your motorcycle gang?”
At that, his smile disappeared. “Our club is not a gang. Just like I know you’re not a damn priest.” The icy tone in his words told Jude he’d crossed some line he hadn’t known was there.
“Sorry. I’m…unfamiliar with this situation,” he offered.
Kicks didn’t soften, but he didn’t look like he wanted to commit murder anymore either. At least, not right then. He snapped the lid off the storage compartment and stared down at the pathetic little grocery bag Jude had packed. “Do you need any of this shit right now?”
Jude shook his head. He didn’t. He’d taken the kippah his grandfather had given him before he died, but that was in his pocket. Other than that, he had his tefillin, a couple sets of extra clothes, and a spare phone charger. But nothing he had apart from that kippah was irreplaceable. And even the kippah could be sacrificed in place of his life. Hell, his grandfather would rise from his bloody grave if he thought Jude might sacrifice his safety for a bit of fabric.
“There’s probably some food here if you get hungry,” Kicks said, his voice more of a grunt. He stomped over the sand and up the two stairs, wrenching the door open. “But I doubt it’s going to be very good. This shit’s been sitting for a while.”
Jude was surprised it wasn’t locked, and he half-expected the place to be filled with more bikers. He followed the other man in with only a hint of trepidation and let out a small breath when he found the place empty. The front room was dark, and the air inside was stale, like no one had been in there for years. There was a faint scent of damp that clung to the walls, and he could see a few dark patches near the ceiling.
He wasn’t entirely thrilled about their present accommodations, but he was also feeling a little bit better about the situation. If this man really was going to kill him, at least it would be quick. He didn’t think Kicks was going to play the long game of death by black mold.
“Do you want something to drink?” came Kicks’ voice from around the corner.
He ventured down the hallway and turned into a great room, which had a lounge that led right into a small kitchen. Kicks was leaning on the open door of the small fridge, his sunglasses pushed into his hair, the profile of his face showing off his scowl. The room was still dim, but there was a small row of recessed lights in the ceiling that cast the man in a faint yellow glow.
“I don’t imagine you’re offering me something like tea,” Jude said with a small sigh. He dragged his hand over the back of the sofa, and it came away with layers of dust. “So, I’m not sure I want to risk it if it’s all out of date.”
“It’s beer,” Kicks said dryly. As if to demonstrate, he pulled one from the top shelf and cracked the top on the counter. It tumbled to the floor with a soft clink, and Jude found himself mesmerized by the way he lifted the bottle to his lips, drinking deeply, his throat working around his swallows. “But no, I wasn’t offering you tea,” he said after swiping his hand over his mouth. He set the bottle down, then reached for the cabinet handle and pulled it open. “Looks like we’ve got some canned spaghetti and a couple of boxes of mac and cheese.”
Jude managed not to grimace, knowing that being fussy wasn’t going to do him any favors with this man. “I’m not really peckish.”
“Peckish,” Kicks echoed.
Jude rolled his eyes. “Hungry. I had a big breakfast, so I’ll be fine for now. Thank you for the offer, though.”
“So polite,” Kicks said sounding only a touch sarcastic. He walked around the counter, then stared down at the handprint in the dust before sighing and moving to the window, reaching for the cord. The blinds lifted like they didn’t want to move, but when he got it open and a fresh breeze began to waft through the room, Jude found himself breathing in a little deeper.
“So,” Jude