Law Maker 7.5 (Renegade Souls MC Romance Saga)

by V. Theia

  “Put that to some good use.”

  “You sure? This is very generous of you.”

  Lawless smirked at the guy while the kitten clawed her way up his coat arm. “I’m a giving guy,” Danny laughed at Lawless’ blatant lie and thanked him again.

  A lot of people stopped by for the holy man. Lawless didn’t know how the guy could converse with so many and look like he enjoyed the asinine discussions too. He’d blow his brains out if he had to do it on the daily.

  When they were alone again, the kitten asleep on Lawless’ palm, he cocked his head and met blue eyes.

  He didn’t even know why he said it.

  Maybe the guy had some powers from up above.

  “Hypothetical confession for you, holy man.”

  Danny chuckled, “you know that’s not my deal, right?”

  “Sure. It’s why it’s hypothetical.” He smirked back. “Something bad happened to someone, who bad things shouldn’t happen to at any age.” This sentence sobered the holy man instantly. “And say it was in someone else’s power to exact retribution for the bad things this girl went through. Hypothetically.”

  “I’m not sure what you’re asking me here, Lawless,” Danny had an edge of seriousness crackling his voice.

  Lawless wasn’t a secret sharer.

  He didn’t need to spill his guts.

  Or atone for his actions.

  He did what he did and he always went into things with his eyes wide open.

  He didn’t have a conscience.

  Not so much.

  Not like the normal folk, because he had reasons for everything.

  Even psychos thought they were sane in their own mind, so how was he to know, huh?

  He felt this had been the right thing to do.

  The only thing.

  He was nearing the end of his task and to be truthful, he was ready for it to not take up so much space in his head. It had already compelled him for years now. Laid in bed at night, while he ate and rode his bike. While he hacked into the Russian’s world and took care of the kittens. Fucked and fought and did all the other deviant things that made up the Lawless jigsaw puzzle. It festered and clawed through the parts of his brain that shouldn’t react to anything. All he thought about was giving payback in the only way he knew how. And that was with a lot of pain, resulting in death.

  “Are you asking if it’s okay to get revenge on someone?”

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying.”

  He didn’t need permission or acceptance.

  He had no fucking clue why he was opening his trap.

  “She’s a kid and she got torn from her life, holy man. By men who sell girls like they’re candy canes at a Christmas market. Sell them to worse men than they are, who continue to do sickening things because they get away with it.”

  Danny’s face paled.

  Now the holy man was getting it.

  “I don’t have a soul,” he half smiled. Having known it probably since birth.

  He didn’t think like a normal man.

  He certainly didn’t have the actions or appetites or the average Joe.

  The holy man’s hair would turn white if Lawless spewed what was on his mind.

  A constant tick.

  Patience and waiting.

  Denial and perseverance.

  A darkness creeping through his blood stream.

  Ah, maybe his dear old mom was right after all. He was made wrong.

  But then, who the fuck was right?

  Some might say he was not using his judgement on this.

  He didn’t feel remorseful.

  Not for anything.

  Danny Murphy was sitting next to a deviant and he didn’t even realize it.

  “Do you believe an eye for an eye?”

  “That only breeds war. Where would it end if we all thought like that?”

  Lawless smiled. Watching a naughty little piece of curvy meat eyeballing him from across the sea of tables. The blondie thing was almost deep throating him mentally. And he felt a twinge in his Johnson reminding him of how long it had been since he’d used it.

  Ahh, the good housewife. With her lawn service on Thursdays and yoga every Friday with sex thrown in on her birthday.

  She couldn’t handle his dick, not even if he fucked her sedate missionary style with no zip ties.

  “You wouldn’t want to hurt the person who hurt someone you loved, holy man?”

  He found it hard to believe if a person said they wouldn’t.

  Fucking liars.

  It was bred into the bones to want to hurt back.

  Even for an emotionless fucker like Lawless.

  It was the principle of the matter.

  He hated men who picked on the weak.

  “I would try hard not to. But who is to say in any situation where it causes harm to someone I love. I would hope I could get through with my faith.”

  “That’s where we differ, you and me. You’re good. I’m not.” Smirked Lawless and meant it.

  “Tell me more about this hypothetical problem. Do you mean to do harm to someone?”

  “Someone’s, holy man. It’s many, many someone’s.”

  Three years of tracking, hunting and killing. Without realizing, it had become his biggest obsession yet.

  The payback was a hunger he felt deep in his gut.

  They’d hurt and damaged. So he hurt and damaged in return. It seemed pretty cut and dried if you ask him.

  It was never a good outcome for Lawless’ brain to latch onto something. Because in obsessive mode it was always very…very bad for the recipient.

  This though, came with a purpose.

  The most important thing he’d ever done with his life. Bound by a silent promise to see it through to the bitter end. So that one day someone—if not him, could tell her that every last person who’d hurt her and her family were turned to dust

  No matter what he had to do, he was seeing it to its conclusion.

  “For the last few years I’ve been hunting down every person associated to what happened and dealing with it my way.”

  Murder was implied, he thought.

  It led him all over the country.

  Arduous trips on his bike with only one mission on his mind.

  He couldn’t kill Hades, what a fucking shame they all didn’t get a turn with that degenerate. But he could deal with the scum along the food chain.

  When the lines ultimately went dead at some points of his hunting, he only had to put that noise of her screaming in his head again and it forced him on.

  Get it done.

  See it paid back in full.

  “Is there a reason you’re sharing this with me?” Danny asked.

  Maybe he wanted to tell someone. He couldn’t confess to his boys not yet; they’d want to know why. He didn’t fucking know why.

  It was no secret who the good pastor’s kin were.

  Talk was they were the Irish version of his MC.

  “Isn’t confession good for the soul?”

  Danny didn’t laugh. He didn’t grin. He looked pensive and a little sick.

  “Only to those who have them, Lawless.”

  He laughed and inclined his shaved head. “Touché. Don’t worry, holy man, I don’t want anything. In fact, I’ll owe you a favor to keep your mouth shut.”

  The pastor laughed and it broke the tension.

  “Be careful, Lawless. Some things you can’t come back from. For you and who you’re doing it for. We are each responsible for our own morality and sometimes if the lines blur, it’s hard to come back from it.”

  Ah, trying to save him. Good man, but it was already far too late for Lawless’ immortal soul to be saved. It was probably swimming in hell already.

  A psycho did bad things not because he thought they were bad, but because he didn’t.

  It was simple to Lawless, there was no black and white with this.

  On his deathbed, Lawless could look through the kaleidoscope of his fucked up life
and see this one event where he did something right. Something just.

  His brain burned.

  His chest felt like it had a boulder pressing him into the dirt.

  For her.

  He could do this right thing for her so the stains of that one life changing event didn’t crush her for the rest of it.

  Because she couldn’t do it, he told himself.

  Yeah, let’s all stick to that lie for a while longer.

  What many people didn’t know about Lawless was, he was a deviant who tap danced to his own psycho beat.

  He did what he wanted for his own needs.

  Depraved.

  Selfish.

  Self-serving.

  Deplorable.

  Unthinkable.

  Immoral.

  And he walked with murder on his mind.

  For her.

  Vengeance tasted like bitter vinegar on his tongue.

  And knowing the end was coming, he slurped it up.

  Tasting the promise of violence to come and he smiled.

  THIRTEEN

  “Bloody plans.” – Lawless

  Badass: Hey, I have a problem.

  The text from Angela popped up on his phone screen while Lawless was looking at his mug in the mirror as he brushed his teeth.

  He was late for a church meeting but how could they start without the star of the show there? The boys would wait. Rider would likely bitch him out, but he liked hygiene more than the next hobo so he never rushed. Now he stalled to answer the text.

  Lawless: What is it?

  Badass: Did I disturb you? Are you busy? Didn’t realize it was still early for you.

  Lawless: If I were busy, I wouldn’t have replied. What is it?

  Badass: I was trying to be polite and not ask if you were with someone. Sheesh.

  Badass: How’s Oscar? I miss the kittens. Don’t rehome them before I can see them this weekend!

  He’d tried in vain to warn her against getting her little girl feelings attached to the new batch of kittens he was taking care of. He might as well have tried harnessing a cloud for all the good it did. The girl, in all her hardass stubbornness was still a chick and she attached to the little shits the first day he let her see them. Now she was naming them and making Lawless’ temples hurt.

  Lawless: Oscar is fine. What’s the fucking problem, Angela? Stop stalling.

  Badass I’m so embarrassed, but Zara isn’t picking up and my foster mom is at work.

  Badass: I need some things.

  Badass: I’m at school, grumpy. This is an SOS.

  Lawless: Things?

  Badass: OMG. Don’t make me say it.

  Lawless: I can’t read your mind.

  Finishing up in the bathroom, he padded bare feet through the polished wood floor of his cabin. His bedroom was on the first floor, it was what he preferred, he didn’t want to be on the top deck if there was ever an ambush. Fuck that noise. He had his jeans and undershirt on before her next text came.

  She was a teenager, wasn’t everything so fucking dire to them?

  Last week her bad mood was because her foster dad wouldn’t let her go to an unchaperoned party. Good fucking call, Lawless thought. Teen boys were dirty little dogs and Angela’s boy-toy, Joshua Muller, didn’t have the body fat to protect her from a flea, let alone the perverted advances of a drunken asshole.

  Badass: Lady things. I need lady things, Law. Omg. I’m humiliated asking you. I’ll never be able to face you again. I guess you’ll be HAPPY about that.

  Lawless: Fucks sake, why didn’t you say you were bleeding?

  Lawless: Send me a picture of the type you need.

  Ever since Zara voiced fostering the kid, she’d been tight with both her and the prez. Every weekend, if the boys dropped by Rider’s house, Angela was there too. She might have had her family ripped from her, but she’d gotten a new one with those two. Lawless was glad she had people like Rider and Zara looking out for her. She was gonna need it more than ever soon and he knew it was getting to the stage where it was the point of no return.

  If Lawless had a conscience maybe he’d be nervous about the shit coming up, but he didn’t so he didn’t dwell on the what ifs.

  Feet into his boots, he swung into his leather duster coat, grabbed the bike keys, before locking up behind him.

  Badass: Because girls don’t go around telling random people we’re bleeding!

  Badass: I’m mortified. Horrified. I need a box for my red face.

  Lawless: I’ll meet you outside the main entrance.

  Badass: I’m forever in your debt.

  Lawless: Always the wrong thing to say to me.

  Badass: Whatever, grumpy. Thank you!

  Badass: Don’t look at me when you get here. And I won’t be seeing you for at least a year. Maybe more, until I get over this terrible event.

  Lawless: Works for me. About to ride. Stop texting.

  Badass: My hero. Even though you are a sarcastic smartass and you couldn’t go a whole year and not see your best friend. So whatever.

  Badass: I MEAN IT, GRUMPY. DON’T LOOK AT ME.

  Badass: Okay, I’m stopping texting now. Please hurry. SOS remember!

  With one hand holding two pink boxes of tampons, Lawless ambled up to the cashier and eyed the kid standing there looking bored out of his mind.

  The teen soon snapped to attention when he saw Lawless.

  The RSMC were always afforded respect in town.

  People gave them a wide berth on reputation alone.

  Lawless constantly got stares.

  It was the hazard of being a biker.

  A Renegade Souls in particular.

  A headcase.

  An unapproachable fucker.

  Take your pick.

  He casually tossed the tampons onto the counter, felt a presence at his back as people queued up behind him.

  “Is…is that all?” The teen boy squeaked, glancing up at Lawless.

  Who was he to ruin this kid’s fear?

  Lawless hardened his eyes and stared, then pointed to a scratch off. The kid rushed to get it for him while Lawless grabbed four candy bars from the display. Almond Joy, 3 Musketeers, a caramel turtle and Butterfingers and then he dumped those on the counter too.

  The kid probably worked as fast as he ever had in that next minute to ring up the purchases.

  He didn’t think he was an intimidating guy but it appeared it was the outfit he wore. What you gonna do? He wasn’t about fitting himself places to suit someone’s expectations.

  He was buying blood sticks and candy for fucks sake, not robbing the place with a sawn off shotgun.

  “Hey… that’s a… that’s a sweet ride you got there, mister.” The boy found his bravado and stuttered with his two cheeks fire engine red.

  Lawless smirked and looked back as he walked away. “Yeah, son, it is.”

  Naughty little female maggots holding their almond milk and pizza slices stared at him on his way out.

  If he wasn’t on an errand of mercy he might have… nah, his Johnson wasn’t in the mood to play with bored housewives.

  The ride didn’t take long, seeing as how he chose the closest store to the high school.

  He couldn’t say he’d ever run an errand like it but he didn’t see the big deal she was making.

  She was a chick who needed chick things and she had no fucking mom to turn to, end of story. As she told it, Lawless was her best friend. Go fucking figure, he felt sorry for her if that was the case.

  But he’s never once denied their connection. Never.

  Did he understand it? Nah. But he acknowledged it was there under his skin.

  He reacted to her request in the same way as if she’d asked him to blow someone’s head off for her.

  It was all the same racket to Lawless.

  He hadn’t been on school grounds in a long time, but he saw how nothing much changed.

  Baby maggots with their over swelled fake egos still had their cliques and expensive car
s paid for by daddy.

  They eyed him carefully as he pulled up at the curb. Intent on calling Angela to let her know he was here; he didn’t need to when she shot out of the main door and power-walked over to him.

  Bracing both his feet on the wet ground, he let his hands go loose on the handlebars, checking her over as he always did.

  It was a habit, he supposed.

  Looking for open wounds and misery pouring out of her growing body. Angela was a weed with long limbs, longer hair and an attitude that stemmed from the dealt hand. She had pockets of sweet in her for the select people she claimed. Zara and Rider and their kids being some of them, but more often, she wore her attitude like armor.

  Their history started with a terrified girl hiding from lunatics intent on selling her young body. And then later with her sobbing grief all over him, he was now hardwired to check she was okay.

  Other than hiding behind the long sheet of her dark-dark hair in front of her face, she appeared to be fine.

  He held out the paper bag and she grabbed it fast and held it to her chest. “People will think you’re dropping off drugs,” she gasped.

  Lawless grinned at her bluster.

  “Thank you, grumpy, I owe you one.” She peeked inside. “Oh, candy bars. You totally rock. Scratch off is for me too?”

  “If you win big, you can hire someone else to grab your tampons.”

  She burst out laughing and Lawless felt a scratching on the inside of his rib cage. It was probably scurvy.

  What with the way he was raised in a trailer park, anything was possible.

  Couldn’t be another reason.

  Oh, the lies psychos spewed.

  “And people say you’re not funny,” she sassed him.

  Strange that she was one of the few chicks who was not scared of him. Even if he’d tried to shake her off a thousand times. She kept coming back, hovering around him until he sighed and gave in.

  Underneath him the engine idled and he tightened his gloved hands on the bars. A lot of kids coming out of the building directed gazes their way. Angela was gonna be a celebrity by being seen with a Souls biker.