Finding Mayhem

by Layla Frost

It was getting harder and harder to bite my tongue around Danes, so I said, “Send Glitch.” “Can’t,” Judge shot back. “He doesn’t want Glitch involved anymore. Something about him trying to fuck his wife.” “What a load of bullshit.” “You sayin’ Glitch doesn’t wanna knock Mrs. Danes’ sensible shoes off?” “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with sensible shoes,” I heard O snap in the background. “I wear them at work, and unlike these shitkickers, they don’t give me blisters.” Ophelia used to work as a nurse in a ritzy retirement facility before Judge ‘temporarily restrained’ her. Kidnapped. He’d kidnapped her. Once she’d gotten a taste of Mayhem in her life, she’d quit to take care of our sorry asses. I, for one, appreciated having a nurse around. She’d patched us up when Haze and I were mysteriously jumped outside a bar. She had the best hangover remedies. She sure as shit had a better bedside manner for patching up road rash and busted knuckles than any of the brothers. And she asked fewer questions than a hospital would. “Hush, woman,” Judge said. “You worked in those heels and that sexy as fuck outfit you wore for me last week. Don’t ruin the fantasy.” Ophelia let out a soft laugh. “Your fantasy is me wearing that around other—” “Great. It’s fuckin’ ruined, princess,” Judge bit out. “That’s on you, psycho.” I was used to their back and forth. We all were. For as long as we’d been Court of Mayhem, Judge had lived and breathed the club—until Ophelia. We were happy he had something ...