Law Maker 7.5 (Renegade Souls MC Romance Saga)

by V. Theia

  Struggle. Struggle. Muffle.

  Lawless laughed low to himself, taking a good few minutes choosing the blade of choice. He went with the flick knife.

  Small but deadly and sharpened for his trip.

  “Now see, they drew out the kill back then for as long as they could. You listening? Speak up, I can’t hear you. Okay, fine. I’ll tell you seeing as you don’t seem to know. Lingchi is death from a thousand cuts. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

  Well, maybe not for the hanging corpse.

  But not everyone can win in the games that Lawless played.

  The first cut went to his thigh. And then the belly and chest. Fast, slashing lines that seeped and dripped.

  “I hope you’re keeping count,” he told the man who was screaming behind his gag.

  After an hour the pool of blood was vast on the floor. So much so Lawless could no longer get near him without dirtying his boots.

  The man was lifeless. Held up only by the ties on both wrists that were torn up from his struggling. With picks violently pushed under his fingernails and his teeth wrenched out with pliers, Lawless had a great time. But the guy? Not so much. He threw up, pissed on himself several times, bled everywhere—begged, pleaded and then passed out. Lawless waited it out and then started again.

  The last and fatal cut was on the jugular.

  The breath withered to lifeless gasps in moments. It was then that Lawless cut him down and let the guy fall to a crunching heap on the cement floor.

  Death was like shaving. He did it to remove an irritation, in the same vein he removed thick facial hair. He saw no distinction between both annoyances.

  Replacing his coat, Lawless cleaned off his blade and tucked it away in one of his many pockets.

  He remained over the body as a lake of blood gathered beneath the head, almost reaching Lawless’ thick soled durable biker boots.

  He’d killed often and many, but this one had meaning.

  This one soothed his singed soul.

  He wouldn’t take it back to her as a gift, presented neatly in a tied ribbon.

  One more gone and Lawless smirked at the mess on the ground.

  No remorse.

  No guilt.

  He hadn’t killed for profit.

  This kill was all for Lawless.

  To appease the howling inside.

  Taking one look back at the crumpled meat as he tracked through the small house. Whoever this guy belonged to; they were in for a sweet surprise when they got home.

  “Debt cleared, motherfucker.”

  It was time to go home to Colorado.

  His list was shorter, but he still had a select few he’d left until last.

  And then the big man.

  Lawless expected death and retribution would come to him one day.

  He was no choir boy.

  You could take it to the bank he wouldn’t squeal like a fucking bad fish.

  Redemption was only earned for a man who thought he’d done wrong.

  Lawless was cut from a whole different kind of cloth. Because he didn’t covet the all elusive forgiveness for any of his crimes.

  Each time he walked into the flames with his eyes wide open.

  He felt good on the plane ride home.

  So much so he fucked one of those bubbly plane bitches who handed out peanuts in the airport bathroom.

  A man needed to celebrate his victories.

  ELEVEN

  “Bullet to the heart.” – Angela

  Lawless didn’t stand on ceremony for anyone.

  So when he pulled his matte silver Mustang up to the curb in front of the young couple with their heads together over a phone, he leaned a hand on the horn and made them spring apart. He rose a hand and beckoned Angela to get in with a motion of two fingers.

  He watched her huff. She liked to huff about shit.

  He didn’t give a shit if she was on a date. She exchanged words with the young kid and strode over and slid herself into the passenger seat.

  Josh Muller stood on the sidewalk watching him screech away.

  “Where are we going? It’s not my curfew yet and why are you even here? We could have given Josh a ride home, you know.”

  Yeah, right. Pipsqueak would get in his car over Lawless’ dead body.

  “Buckle up, taking you somewhere.”

  “Oh, ominous as always said the serial killer,” she smarted. Lawless’ lips twitched with his eyes forward as he took the slick roads up toward the mountains.

  “Where’s the Harley?”

  “Home, it’s too icy to ride today.”

  “When can I drive the Mustang then? I believe you said if I passed my test first time I could. Hello, I’ve had my license for four months now.”

  “You said that shit, not me.”

  She huffed. “Same difference. So when can I?”

  “You’re not driving my car.”

  “You are disturbingly attached to this car, grumpy. Do you need to be alone? Maybe we should hold a ceremony. Do you, Mustang, take this big old grouch as your wedded biker?” He heard her grin but didn’t look her way.

  Unlike when he first met her, she rarely shut up now and kept a running conversation, mostly one sided. “Where the hell are you taking me, Lawless? I thought maybe to the mall, but we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Because I’m known for going to the mall.”

  She snorted, throwing her favorite English toffee into her mouth.

  The cabin came into sight as he rounded the corner and he heard the way she caught her breath. “Whoa. Where is this? It’s gorgeous. It looks like it’s from a movie set.”

  “Home.”

  “Wait…what? You live… here?”

  “Yeah.” He parked and slid out, not waiting for her.

  Angela soon followed and was at his shoulder. Gazing up at the two story cabin in light wood, brick pillars, with the wrap around veranda, a balcony on the top floor and the set of stairs leading up. “Why didn’t I know you lived in a gorgeous log cabin? I thought you lived at the clubhouse or had an apartment in town.”

  On and on her questions flew out of her mouth as she followed excitedly behind him up the stairs.

  “Is this kinky HQ?”

  Lawless cut a glance behind him and rose up a brow.

  “Where you entertain all your lovers?” She stretched the last word while her cheeks highlighted.

  His mouth twitched again. “Don’t say lovers.”

  “Fine, grandpa. Do you bring your romantic acquaintances here?”

  “No. There’s time to look around later, drop your bag on the porch and follow me around the back.”

  “You’re sounding ominous again, grumpy. I gotta tell you, I have a hinky feeling you’re up to no good and I’m not about that life, not before I get to drive that sweet as fuck ride down there.”

  Despite her mouth, she did as he said and he walked to the clearing around back he had set up. He went to the locked silver box and brought out his 9mm hand gun and a box of ammo.

  “Whoa,” she was at his shoulder again, dousing his nose in the scent of the ocean. “Is this because I called you grandpa? You know you’re handsome, grumpy, I mean all my friends think you’re hot, you’re barely old or anything. You could be besties with John Wick, you’re that level of cool. Let’s not get crazy and shoot me before I get to college. You’re pretty good at hacking and hardly groan when your old bones stand up.”

  Lawless sliced her a glance. “Keep digging, angel.”

  She laughed, not at all intimidated or scared by the gun in his hand. It was empty right now so he handed it over. “Take it. Get a feel for the weight.”

  “Oh, my god. Are you going to let me shoot? I’m so excited. Watch me be a badass.” She started jumping around, pointing the empty weapon.

  “You are, if you stop your fucking motormouth.”

  She became excitable and he waited it out by setting his eyes to the mountains.

  This was the first step.<
br />
  For a man with no patience at all, that was a lot to ask.

  “Angela,” he finally warned with a rattle to his voice, staring at her to get her incessant chatter brought to a stop. “Shut the fuck up and take this seriously.”

  He took the weapon back and started to load the shells, listening to the hurt feelings in her voice.

  “Why are you being such a hardass? I mean more than your usual hardass self. You brought me here! I didn’t ask you to turn up and ruin my afternoon by kidnapping me.”

  Turning his cold eyes on her, his head dropped and he saw the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

  “Do you want another day where someone throws a hood over your head and drags you off?”

  “Don’t,” she shivered, backing her feet up. He watched the tremble roll through her body but he didn’t let up giving her this lesson, “that’s not cool.”

  “You think firing a few bullets is a game? Say that when savages are tearing at you, angel. Selling you to the highest bidder on a block where you stand naked for degenerates to paw over you. Sick men who think nothing about passing you around like candy until you’re so washed out. So fucking doped up on meth that all you think about is the drug and sucking cocks over and over and over.”

  Lawless saw his point had been made when a lone tear dropped from her lashes down her olive cheek.

  Pain sliced him in the gut as he circled back around to stand within touching distance of her. His eyes roaming over her face while he waited for the slow track of tears to stop. He bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted his own blood.

  He told himself it was for her own good, he always gave her the truth.

  His version of the truth anyway.

  She’d been around the MC long enough now to know they didn’t treat her with kid gloves. He had to trust she was tough enough for this.

  Taking her hand in his, he pressed the weapon in her palm. Then rounded behind her and pointed at the target he had set up a few feet away.

  “Lift your arms, steady the gun, breathe, take aim and then squeeze gently.”

  “I hate you,” she whispered, voice quivering.

  The pulse was manic in his tight jaw. “Hate me all you want. Straighten your back. Aim to kill, never to wound. If you’re using a gun to save your life then make it count. Wounded men can get up off the floor, dead motherfuckers can’t.”

  She paused. His eyes tracked the rise and fall of her back before she took the stance he’d shown her, shoulders straightened and her tremor stopped.

  Good girl.

  She could hate him for the truth he poured over her head until the cows come home. He knew more than most how hatred was a good motivator.

  He would never be anything other than the man giving it to her straight and raw.

  Knowing how to take care of herself was lesson one.

  He made her go through reps until the gun felt familiar in her hands.

  She was a shit shot 6 times out of 10. But if she ever needed to fire a gun he was giving her the skill to know how to handle it.

  Three hours he kept her on his property and only when he saw her teeth chattering did it bring the session to an end.

  There was a pile of bullet casings at her feet.

  He was proud she’d lasted this long, but he knew she had a stubborn head.

  That was good too, stubbornness kept a person alive.

  “What was all this about?”

  In the process of locking the gun away, he tucked the box under his arm ready to toss it into his safe inside.

  Lawless wasn’t known for sugar coating so he didn’t start now.

  “I can’t always be around to make sure the monsters don’t get you. The MC can’t always be there if something happens. You’re gonna have to fight for yourself. Now you have tools at your fingers to do that.”

  She’d grown a lot from that terrified fourteen year old kid. She wasn’t dumb, she was more aware of the dangers of the world than most girls her age. “Come on,” he told her. “We’ll get you fed and I’ll drop you off at home.”

  “Grumpy.” Her voice wobbled.

  This was usually when Lawless disengaged once people started secreting emotions out. His feet kept him there. Her dark-dark eyes searching him for questions he wouldn’t give her answers to.

  Not right now.

  “Should I be worried why you’re doing this now?”

  “Nah, badass. Worry about college next year and all the half-drunk punks you can now shoot in the balls if they try anything.”

  She laughed but it didn’t reach her eyes.

  He’d put concern in her head.

  And more than that, she was perceptively aware of his moves even if she didn’t know why and wouldn’t know why for a while yet.

  “Hey, grumpy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Can I look around?”

  She had some rock chick dress sense going on lately. Couldn’t be Z-girl’s influence because she dressed like a foreign princess.

  Dark jeans tighter than skin. Brown boots with a ribbed tank under a scuffed dark red leather jacket. One glance and he categorized it all, including her toffee colored skin with the fine dusting of freckles. Long poker straight ponytail swishing half down her back.

  No wonder she had the Josh’s of the world panting like dogs.

  Now she’d know how to shoot the perverts.

  “Knock yourself out,” he said rustily, aware he was opening the door for her to precede him.

  He heard her laughing up his staircase leading to the floor of bedrooms and bathrooms. She yelled down. “You’re being so agreeable. I’ll get behind the Mustang’s wheel soon, I just bet.”

  Lawless smirked. “You’re not driving my car.”

  He went to put the gun away.

  He was a maniac who took safety serious.

  With certain people anyway.

  Several lessons a week over the next few months, some in self-defense, the others with guns and knives and he was happier she had better knowledge of how to protect herself if it were ever needed.

  Something else checked off his pre-prison to do list.

  TWELVE

  “Murderous confessions and cats.” – Lawless

  Mixing with the normal folk always put an irritated scratch around Lawless’ throat.

  He ignored the stares and lustful glances and the cautious side steps.

  He didn’t care about the guys who were mentally puffing out their chests as a challenge.

  Brushing up against all that cloying regularity made him feel less than normal. And Lawless was not about feeling fucking anything on any given day.

  There was logic to his madness and that was rehoming a litter of kittens some yokel had dumped by the fire station. The local fire chief who knew Lawless… biblically and to grab a drink with, gave him a call to take care of the tiny runts.

  Folks didn’t understand and he didn’t give any fucks to explain himself.

  Why couldn’t he be a straight up killer and care for cats at the same time?

  Stop trying to shove him into one box or another, fuckers.

  He didn’t dislike people.

  They were fine to fuck and manipulate if he was bored.

  It was not good if Lawless became bored. Because a kind of red sadism coated his vision and he got a bit wicked in his entertainment.

  And fish loved jumping through hoops to please him.

  He hated being around a crowd of them.

  Don’t mistake him though, he was not Hawk level of nuts.

  That brother hated anyone other than those who were under the clubhouse roof and even then, Lawless suspected Hawk could count on one hand and have fingers left over for the who he wouldn’t piss on if they were on fire.

  He admired that level of detached dedication.

  In any case, he dragged his ass into a cage that day and drove the Escalade down from his mountain top to the summer bash held at the church, to get the runts rehomed. They meowed in th
e box at his side, trying to climb out onto the passenger seat. He calmed the little bastards by letting them play with his fingers while he drove. Little shits bit him up like they thought he was their chew toy.

  With his account with the local vet, he made sure they had all their shots then he raised them to a size and health that they were good to find owners.

  It was up to the furry hooligans now whether they thrived or not.

  “I see you’ve brought us some gremlins,” a voice to the left of him remarked, humor in the deep tone. Lawless twisted his head around to catch the friendly smile of the guy in charge of this whole shindig.

  Irish Pastor Danny Murphy, now a Colorado resident, preaching to his adoring public.

  He didn’t dress like any ordinary holy man. Black jeans and a white Henley with the sleeves pushed up his forearms and a red t-shirt over the top of it. With his floppy brown hair he looked like a teen pinup for obsessed girls to go crazy over. No wonder the guy always had naughty meat salivating over him. Probably why this charity event was primarily panting women.

  “I’m sure they’ll go to good homes,” he said, bending down he started to give affection to the kittens and they fell over themselves to get to the new hand. The fattest one was the worst culprit.

  “Looks like you’re claimed, holy man.”

  Danny laughed and went on petting the cats. “I wish I could take him, but my housekeeper is allergic.”

  Lawless nearly suggested getting rid of the housekeeper. Animals were better than any human.

  Over the next hour, the pastor came by to Lawless’ patch several times.

  There was only one kitten left perched on Lawless big hand when Danny dropped by again. “You making enough here?” He asked.

  Danny took a seat on the wall next to Lawless. “We do better with the summer fete than the winter events. People are more prone to part with their money when it’s hot and sunny.”

  Reaching into his pocket, Lawless came out with a roll of money in a fat bundle. He knew there was two and a half grand there because he only wrapped it up that morning before leaving his cabin. He tossed it over and Danny caught it.