by V. Theia
The more he explained, the paler Snake became. Those tattoos on his hands flexed with his anger.
“I’ve made it so that Charlie Timmons will be here any time now to arrest me for class A possession. It should get me inside with no chance of a suspended sentence. The DA has wanted to get me for a while, so he’ll push for this. You need to get good with it, man, and not … I don’t know, throw yourself on the floor and hang off my leg. Only you, Rider and the VP know right now. But the Prez intends to fill the others in at a church meeting, you help him make it good with everyone else, yeah? I don’t want Archie to get me off, he’s got his instructions too. Once it’s all gone down he’ll try to get me a lighter sentence.”
Anger looked back at Lawless. “You’re just fucking telling me this now?”
“Yes.”
“This is insanity. You could have told me at any time, you didn’t wake up today and decide this.” Snake blew out frustrated air. “There’s other ways.”
“There isn’t.”
Lawless would know.
He would not wait. Not for this. He wanted it finished already.
He let Snake go through his ranting and pacing like a worried housewife.
“I could punch your fucking face off; I fucking swear.”
“We have no time for kinky games and your wife would object, unless she gets off on watching, then maybe another time.” He smirked in return, loose with his blood on fire.
There was a pull through Lawless’ eyes to peer through the clubhouse wall of windows for a second.
Almost like a compulsion but everyone knew he didn’t deal with those like a regular person … right?
Unthinkable.
And yet, his betraying eyes wanted to search through the pane of glass, to see if the kid was okay.
The kid.
Oh, the weaving lies he fed himself with a fucking spoon.
On purpose, he’d avoided several things this last week. One was vomiting up a confession to Snake. Not yet. And the other was not picking up any calls from Angela.
Too much shit to organize, he told himself.
It wasn’t every day he went to jail. That took time and effort to get his affairs in order. Closing down his cabin. Telling his naughty fish that daddy was leaving them in the pond alone. Not to mention mentally preparing himself for the suffocating enclosure for the foreseeable.
He was sacrificing more than he’d ever sacrificed before.
One thing Lawless valued above all else was his freedom.
He might not have roamed in the last few years, making Colorado his home, but the option was there if he needed.
In the next few hours he was going to become like any other incarcerated meat, under the instructions of someone else and his skin crawled like his spiders had come alive.
He’d gotten right with it but still…
“This guy who’s locked up, why does it have to be you?” Snake questioned. His pacing stopped and he fired a glare even as sirens sounded in the background. “We’ve got contacts to reach those inside.”
“I finish what I start,” he answered. Vague as ever.
How could he answer when he himself didn’t know.
His fucking neurons didn’t fire right, Snake knew this and still expected answers.
“I kill shit,” he went with. “This guy needs killing. You have a wife, you want her to be taken by someone like him, an organization like this?”
It was a low blow, but Lawless was unsteady in his body, defensive like never before and he watched Snake scowl.
“It’s a lot to give up. But fucking drugs? Why didn’t you admit to Hades murder and be done with it?”
Lawless grinned. “I want to get inside for a while, not get the electric chair.”
“You’re fucking certifiable.”
More than likely.
But there was more he had to say.
He handed over two sets of keys. “You and the MC will make sure she’s not wayward, right? You know she’ll take this personally; she’ll react first.”
“Angie.” Snake’s voice dripped coldness. Lawless felt that noise hit him in the sternum. “This is all for her?”
“She’s gonna need some place to stay when it’s time for college, you can give her the run of my cabin. Everything is paid direct so there’s no worries there. The keys to my Mustang, give her them on her eighteenth birthday.”
The shock coating Snake’s face might have been comical if not for the growing sirens. “Your Mustang? The car you don’t let anyone touch; the thing you love above anything else…”
“Yeah, yeah don’t make a scene. I can’t deal with your emotions.” He warned.
“I don’t get … what the fuck, Law.”
It gave him the scratch to explain himself but this was Snake.
“I let her become too dependent on me, she’s about to go to college, be her own person, this is to help her out while I…”
Clarity hit Snake’s face, almost as if he were seeing shit Lawless himself didn’t see. But that was impossible, Lawless reasoned in every eventuality. He didn’t sprout up from the manure pile yesterday.
“Fuck. Lawless. Fuck. You’re untangling yourself. Fuck, man. You’re gonna break her, you know she…”
He interrupted before Snake could finish that sentence. “Let her keep the orange cat, she’s attached to him now, if her foster folks won’t have it, convince Rider to let her keep it at the club.”
Snake’s face was a wash of reality that Lawless didn’t want to face.
Such fucking human emotions stinking up his nose…making him taste them too.
Things he was ignoring.
A tick worked Lawless jaw.
Thank fuck for the law speeding through the gates or he might have got emotional or some other pedestrian display.
For a second, while the two men faced the cops, Snake gripped Lawless’ shoulder. He knew his buddy would do as he asked, even if he bitched at him for the next decade.
Snake watched it go down.
So did the rest of the clubhouse who piled outside.
He’d think about those female screams of his name later and the days to come.
He’d done right by not prewarning her.
Who needed a monster as a guardian?
He’d done what he could to ensure her future. With deposits instructed from his accountant to go into her bank account for her college years. She wouldn’t have to struggle or rely on dead end jobs.
Rider and Zara would help.
Snake would do his part.
The club would go on without him.
Lawless, as the enforcer had done his bit, got the club to a place that was good. He felt okay leaving them as they were.
Jail wasn’t the end—but a different beginning.
His plans were far from over. There was still the problem of getting access to the guy once he was on the other side of the bars and that could be weeks, months or even years, depending on the verdict.
Patience came in many varying forms. For Lawless who was acclimated to his own instructions being met with obedience, this new patience was going to take some adjusting.
The moment the cops picked him up, he was no longer Lawless, feared enforcer of the MC world.
He became Penn again.
The lengths he was going to, not even Lawless himself could have anticipated.
He breathed.
He adjusted.
He endured.
Through it all he kept his shit together.
The first night the steel door closed behind him after his sentencing and he climbed onto the thin bunk. He knew then … Penn wouldn’t have sacrificed much in his pathetic life.
Lawless sacrificed it all and he did it with a sinister sneer on his face.
His final prey was in the prison somewhere and now he had five years to seek him out.
Game on, motherfucker.
SIXTEEN
“I meant my wedding vows. And then Penn happened…” –
Dillon Dreyers
Slop in this place was disguised as food and Lawless was less than impressed.
He wasn’t a lobster and foie gras kind of man but he liked decent tastes in his mouth. A juicy bacon cheeseburger, decent waffles and pop tarts.
Once again he was thanking his status as a Souls for going a long way to getting him the good shit from the kitchen. It didn’t hurt that it was a former Renegade Souls member from the old crew doing the slopping so he saw to it that Lawless had a good plate every day.
In turn, Lawless made sure no one bothered the old guy doing three life sentences for killing his old lady and her two lovers.
The days went on.
At first there was no opportunities to discover where in the prison his target was.
Until one day by chance.
And then his days weren’t so bad anymore.
One thing Lawless recognized was when men were trying to assert their dominance. The culprits were usually the officers because of his notorious MC. He might have the inmates under his heel—fearful of the disreputable headcase, but the guards were a whole other kettle of fish.
And then he met Officer Dreyers.
Lawless knew immediately it was this man who would get him what he needed. Officer Dreyers wouldn’t understand the manipulation because as all bad fish, he was a needy thing and he saw something in Lawless he liked.
Another fucking closet case.
What was it about him that attracted the dirty, secretive bisexual maggots to him?
He’d ask Snake on his next visit.
For weeks, Dreyers watched Lawless and in turn Lawless watched the bad meat eyeing him up.
The man was hot, no getting around that.
Jacked with a big bulge in his tight pants.
Banging the guy would be no hardship, especially since his poor neglected Johnson was hoping for action.
But it wasn’t about getting off for Lawless.
He had a purpose and he’d never forget the reason why he’d incarcerated himself.
The moment someone became of an interest to him, he did his research. It was instinctual to want to know every wicked crevice. No one was ever so good that they didn’t have secret closets full of demons.
Prison was sparse on research but he could get anything by greasing the right palms and he had an endless supply of money coming in. Rider and the boys were taking care of that for him. Putting fifty bucks in someone’s commissary got him the info he needed.
Officer Dreyers, married to his college sweetheart. They lived on the edge of the city in a suburban neighborhood. Attended church and he played touch football and softball with his pals. Not even a speeding ticket. He’d been a correctional officer for five years and oh, the most important part… Officer Dreyers was a closet queer. At least half of him anyway.
He wondered if his dear old Mrs knew he liked the cock.
Lawless would bet his non-existent soul that she didn’t.
Ah, fish.
They loved their filthy secrets.
One chat, a shared laugh. It was so easy to manipulate the man.
One afternoon a fight got out of hand in the recreational room. It was Officer Dreyers who couldn’t get the animals at the zoo under control. Lawless was sitting at a table minding his own damn business. Bored of the ruckus when he stood to his lofty height and strode across to the three men fighting. Grabbing one by the scruff of the neck, he threw him aside, to get at the other two. One he got down on the floor, using a knee in his chest to pin him. “Do yourself a favor, stay down, you little fucking gazelle.”
By this point, everyone knew Lawless. Knew he kept to himself but carried an air of don’t fuck with me and I don’t fuck with you. So for him to get involved, every man in that rec room knew they’d fucked up. Lawless climbed to his feet, turned his head and slyly winked at Officer Dreyers.
The man blushed and grinned his gratitude.
Ah, so easy.
By the end of that week he’d broken the seal on Officer Dreyers’ secret in a boiler room. Even before a zipper was pulled up and a condom discarded, Lawless was in receipt of the cell block location, thanks to Dreyers.
Now the real planning could begin.
He amassed his team even without their knowledge.
There was Jack in the kitchen who got all the gossip from the entire prison.
Bennie, his cellmate who delivered messages.
And he couldn’t forget Officer Dreyers, so eager.
One taste of Lawless and you don’t go back. He should get shirts printed.
The man was a panting wreck.
Snake found it hilarious, when he visited.
Even Grinder’s mouth split. “Only you could hook up in prison with a C.O.”
“A man has to eat,” smirked Lawless.
His next target was the secretary. He needed uninterrupted access to the internet on her office computer.
How hard was it going to be to seduce a middle-aged woman anyway?
Deviously easy was the answer. Especially when the female meat in question was lonely and hungry for attention.
According to Jack, the woman collected Marvel figurines.
This meant he had to get Snake to talk his woman into buying him the stuff and getting it to him.
Every week, Lawless got the access to the computer. And every week he flirted with Teresa, giving her sweet lying compliments and he brought her Marvel figurines she displayed on her work desk.
This shit was too easy.
And yet he was no closer to gaining access to Bates Carmine, five blocks away from Lawless.
Ah, but all in good time.
Lawless had nothing but time.
And while he plotted a man’s demise, he took visits from his boys, he worked out, and he stock piled the letters he received every day.
He never wrote back but it didn’t dissuade Angela.
She was like a Pitbull with pen and ink.
And like a sucker, he read every one, pouring over her news of her life.
Every letter mentioned Judge more and more … seemed they were growing close.
“Report,” he instructed Judge on one of his visits, the moment his ass hit the chair.
Give the kid his due, he didn’t hesitate.
For the first time in weeks, Lawless breathed.
“She’s hard fucking work, boss. But she’s stopped telling me to fuck off, that’s something. I can watch closer now instead of following her around town like a creeper.”
Pleased with his work, Lawless told him to come back next month.
Officer Dreyers came in handy for more than a fast fuck.
He kept the other C.O’s off Lawless’ back and when they saw he not only stayed out of the trouble but sometimes fixed it for them, they kept out of his way altogether and things started to settle into normalcy for him.
It wasn’t ideal.
Boredom was his biggest issue.
He could get any food and booze he wanted, even a joint if he fancied getting high. He worked out but the monotony gnawed through the gray matter no matter how many books he consumed.
Rider, when he visited, reminded Lawless that he was the only one who’d done this. It managed to keep his head on right.
There was nothing like a psycho out of control.
Fortunately for all concerned, he kept right. Just.
It was weeks later. Almost his six months prison-aversary. He’d seen Bates Carmine only once, walking around like King Tut surrounded by his small prison gang barking to his command. Lawless was either going to have to take them all out or get creative and work around them.
He watched.
And he waited.
His veins humming beneath his skin.
This kill would be the one he remembered on his death bed as being the most significant one.
Carmine and his gaggle of fools enjoyed gloating about too young girls. They passed deranged stories around like perverted currency. Fucking animals. He wanted to slice
them all up for fun.
While he had all the time in the world to plan his access to Carmine’s wing via the ever so infatuated Dreyers. Lawless knew Carmine was a powerful man and could amass a fresh sex racket on the outside, defeating the purpose of this whole shitshow. Technically there was five years to get this icing under his belt but he wanted it done.
“I need you to get me over to D wing,” Lawless informed as he watched Dreyers zipping his uniform pants.
The sex flush on the man’s face disappeared for one of exasperation. “How the fuck do you think I can do that? Just walk you through the cameras and about fifty gates? I’ll hold your hand while I do it, huh?”
The boiler room was hot as fuck and Lawless swiped a dribble of sweat from his forehead.
“You bring me here every few days so you can yank your dick, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
Was he implying blackmail? Of course.
Did Officer Dreyers think they had an epic romance going on? Please. He didn’t even kiss the guy. It was dicks out, get the job done and over once the last spasm faded. Lawless was not a stick around and cuddle kind of psycho.
Dreyers snorted and Lawless swerved his neck to look at him. The man was fingering his blond hair back into a tidy heap on his head.
“Why do you want over there so bad?”
“The less you know.”
“Yeah, the fuck ever. You know I can’t do that, it’s worth more than my job.”
“Some might say fucking around with a prisoner is worth more than your job, Dillon.”
Yeah, blackmail swirled and Lawless grinned seeing the color highlight the guy’s face. “Get me over there, you don’t need to know anything else.”
“Fuck,” the good officer cursed, paced a few short feet away, yanked at his hair and swore again.
Yeah, the asshole was regretting giving Lawless the eyes right about now.
What did he say about fish? They had no self-control whatsoever.
“If I can get you over there and I’m not saying I can, it’s next to impossible, you don’t involve me. I don’t fucking care what it’s about, you got it? You blame it on Jesus spiriting your carcass there.”
