Page 79 of Filthy Love

It was the kind of motel that if it had a brochure it would have been described as kitsch and charming, including a map of previous murders.

Lawless saw no charm.

Only crime scenes in the making.

He’d stayed in so many motels over the years he considered himself an expert. There was that one place in Delaware that he spent many a pleasant hour coked out of his head, drunk and covered in his own come and whatever curiously queer boy he’d brought home that night.

He could have met at his home away from home with all his goodies, but he didn’t want this visit in any way associated to Lawless known member of the Renegade Souls MC, not when he’d worked so hard to disguise his identity.

And naughty maggots he played with tended to get overly excited from time to time and flap their disobedient, little gums and tell all about their depraved experiences with him. He couldn’t say of the times he’d had referral calls, like he was running a damn travel agent.

Meat was so rude at times.

Ah well, what you gonna do, he thought.

He’d parked around back, choosing to use his baby Mustang instead of his Harley and instead of his usual club cut marked with his ENFORCER patch, Lawless was in dark stone cargo pants with a simple muscle shirt and a plain black leather jacket, without the grim reaper and his club’s name on the back.

He hefted a sigh. He felt naked without them. Barren of order and all shit went to hell. Who was he if not identified as a Renegade Souls?

He heard a car pull in outside and he smacked his callused hands, rubbing them together, smirking a little villainous as he let the knock sound first. And then another.

It was good to keep people waiting.

Swinging the motel door open he set his gaze on first the woman, as was expected. She smiled, flushed. Lawless had a habit of compiling people as though they were at a check out; Mini skirt. Tank top. Flat sandals. Fake tan. Short hair. Tapered waist, flared hips. Double D tits, pouty lips. Already aroused, was she? She scanned her own gaze over him like he was a melted candy bar.

Bad, bad meat. Even her tits were happy to see Lawless.

Next, he took his blue stare to the man standing at her side. Tan pants, white shirt and a jacket the color of mud. Floppy hair that kept falling over his eyes. Several inches shorter than Lawless’ own 6’4”. He’d guessed instantly it was the guy who was more susceptible to manipulation and didn’t that just work out fine. A little unnerved, the man shuffled as Lawless assessed them both in turn, no sense in hurrying things.

When he turned back to Lawless, who cast a brow high, the man’s eyes turned smoky with interest which was gone in a second as he led the woman inside.

Well, thought-provoking to say the least, he hummed, closing the door behind them.

Zofia and Alex Evanson. Or as Lawless knew them as; bad little married swingers.

“We’re so glad you called, David,” the natural blond said with an excited squeal to her voice as Lawless reached into his pocket and brought out a joint, sparking it to life he inhaled the weed deeply a few times before he offered it out.

The man took it first and presented it to the Mrs.

“We’re still buzzing from the other night.” They smoked until it was gone, and both appeared stress-free.

Lawless never needed weed to calm his chill, but he wanted these maggots malleable as puff pastry.

Oh, yeah. Like taking candy from a dumb baby.

The tickle in his throat forced out a smile over his lips.

“So, am I, darling.” Lawless said feigning interest, he shrugged out of his coat, lacing his usual corroded voice box with a sweetness he didn’t feel. Catching interesting glances from the pair as bad eyes streaked over his bare arms and hard torso.

He was a trained killer in peak condition of both mind and body.

And just three nights previous he’d railed that petite Polish woman in front of her husband while she sucked him off.

Fun times for all.

Threesomes. Moresomes. Fucksomes and triads of orgies. Lawless had done it all. Usually orchestrating it like he wasArturo Toscanini.

Sex was all the same noise, depending on the day and his varying stages of enthusiasm.

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