Page 41 of Law Maker

The prez was behind the desk holding his boy. The kid was quiet and quiet things unnerved Lawless but he kind of dug Knox.

“Prez, little prez,” he greeted both.

He parked his ass on a chair and motioned with his long fingers for Rider to hand the kid over.

He did and Lawless perched a chubby Knox on his lap. The kid was chewing his own fist. He’d have to be more savvy than that if he wanted to be the MC president one day, fist suckers didn’t get the chicks. People would faint to know he didn’t mind babies. Babies knew what was up even with their drooling and lack of vocabulary. Knox was a watcher; he saw all the shit that happened. The kid was gonna be leader one day so he better get good at reading a room real quick.

“To what do I owe the honor of dragging your ass down the mountain before dark?” Asked Rider.

“Came to tell you I’m taking off for a few days while it’s quiet on the Russian front.”

It wasn’t the first time he was saying this to Rider so the man in front of him only arched an eyebrow. “Wanna tell me where?”

“The less you know, Prez.”

“Then tell me is it gonna bring trouble to the door?”

Lawless smirked as the kid latched onto his pinkie finger, “Not if I can help it. Should only be gone a few days, no more than a week. Make sure the little prez here doesn’t get an old lady while I’m gone.” After a tiny fist bump with the little guy, he handed him back.

A few minutes later, he touched base with a few of the boys and he climbed onto his bike and rode out of the compound.

There were several destinations he had in mind when he arrived in Chiapas, Mexico, the next day.

The flashing neon red light announced the bar,Bad Girlsfrom down the street as he tossed some pesos to the cab driver.

His walk was slow, he wasn’t in any kind of a rush.

Not after all this time.

He could kill on impulse without a warning. Using his bare hands or whatever was near. He was resourceful like that.

But this planning suited him. Juiced him up. Made the neurons in his brain fizz like fresh champagne.

Lawless strolled down the poor street and headed into the bar and took a seat at a lone table near the back after ordering a bottle of beer.

He had a system and the system never failed him.

This mission was years deep now and he was nearing the end of the line. A few more maggots and it was done.

The last one would be the hardest one, all concerned, but he’d leave that until he got to it.

A doorway led through to the back of the bar, displaying those annoying strings hanging in the gap. And not thirty minutes later … four minutes early if he checked his watch, the guy he was here to see, came through it.

He caught sight of Lawless, paused a step and then proceeded through the tables.

There was not one single thing to be nervous about—and he wasn’t but he was hyper more than usual. This shit was old news to him. He’d killed more than the average American had hot dinners. It was a job and sport and he didn’t feel a thing either way about it.

But somewhere along the journey, it became personal for Lawless. So while he didn’t think anything would go wrong, he felt amped inside his buzzing veins and misfiring neurons.

In another life he would have made a good warlord riding into battle.

Someone who thrived on the hunt and the kill.

His blood hummed and though he didn’t change his facial expression at all, he saw the man flinch as he got closer.

“Philip Holmes?”

“That’s me.”

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