Page 38 of Law Maker

She was a kid with her heart all broken and misshapen at her feet.

Keeping his boots up on the table, he felt her slink over. Seeing out of the corner of his eye that she wore jeans and a hoodie with it over her long hair. She took the seat next to him—of fucking course she did.

Swallowing his growl of exasperation. He didn’t say a word and her only saving grace for this shadow shit was that Angela rarely said a word either.

After a few minutes, the boys back to their game, he reached into his pocket and brought out a kitten he’d picked up last night from behind Otis’ bar.

He dumped the tubby black and white cat on her lap, catching her gasp and then the sound of her giggle when the cat explored all over her.

Next he grabbed a bag of Ruffles chips he’d brought out of the kitchen. Whatever, it might have been in case she stopped by, he didn’t need a reason to feed a skinny kid and he tossed those on her lap too. Then he went back to nosing through his phone.

“Thanks, Lawless,” he scarcely caught her saying, and felt a tight pinch inside his belly.

Definitely an ulcer brewing.

Something else brewed that night.

After a visit to the private members only club in Denver.

Not a MC.

Uncle Jed would have a fucking coronary if he saw bitches strapped to a Saint Andrews cross getting a nice flogging from a Dom.

Lawless was a premium member, which allowed him to take guests if he wanted to. He never wanted to because that was his down time. It afforded him the luxury of having every dirty amenity at his disposal.

He’d used his privilege well and rode back into Armado Springs loose in his limbs after dropping about a bucket of come.

The sound of the girl’s gratitude played on repeat inside his head that night while him and insomnia lounged on his couch. All because he gave her a fucking cat to hold and some chips.

He thought about his own trailer park helplessness. All those kids with nothing and no hope whatsoever. He’d looked some of them up discreetly and nine times out of ten those schmucks were either dead, a junkie, knocked up with a million kids or in prison. He reckoned they’d amount to nothing. But still helped when he could, fed them more often than their parents did.

The girl—Angela, would never get the closure she needed in letting her parents go. He’d give his own mom away for fucking free at a county fair and no one would even have to buy a ticket.

The idea percolated, biting at his tired brain as he paced around his cabin.

It was gnats and buzzards for fucking hours.

His former sexcapades all but forgotten as his hard-worn body tensed through each muscle.

He was going to do it, wasn’t he?

People were right, he must be fucking mad.

They whispered and gossiped on their little Facebook accounts. Now they’d have proof of how far the notorious troublemaker had fallen from his lofty self-imposed throne.

Ah, fuck.

As dawn crested over the mountains, sitting on the front porch steps. The chill biting at his skin as he held a coffee cup in his hands.

The decision was all but cemented.

And anyone who was anyone knew, the moment Lawless latched his vicious teeth into a project, it was all but game over.

He didn’t smile.

Didn’t react.

But his bones and skin felt it.

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