Page 48 of Law Maker

He was a maniac who took safety serious.

With certain people anyway.

Several lessons a week over the next few months, some in self-defense, the others with guns and knives and he was happier she had better knowledge of how to protect herself if it were ever needed.

Something else checked off his pre-prison to do list.

TWELVE

“Murderous confessions and cats.” – Lawless

Mixing with the normal folk always put an irritated scratch around Lawless’ throat.

He ignored the stares and lustful glances and the cautious side steps.

He didn’t care about the guys who were mentally puffing out their chests as a challenge.

Brushing up against all that cloying regularity made him feel less than normal. And Lawless was not about feeling fuckinganythingon any given day.

There was logic to his madness and that was rehoming a litter of kittens some yokel had dumped by the fire station. The local fire chief who knew Lawless… biblically and to grab a drink with, gave him a call to take care of the tiny runts.

Folks didn’t understand and he didn’t give any fucks to explain himself.

Why couldn’t he be a straight up killer and care for cats at the same time?

Stop trying to shove him into one box or another,fuckers.

He didn’t dislike people.

They were fine to fuck and manipulate if he was bored.

It was not good if Lawless became bored. Because a kind of red sadism coated his vision and he got a bit wicked in his entertainment.

And fish loved jumping through hoops to please him.

He hated being around a crowd of them.

Don’t mistake him though, he was not Hawk level of nuts.

That brother hated anyone other than those who were under the clubhouse roof and even then, Lawless suspected Hawk could count on one hand and have fingers left over for the who he wouldn’t piss on if they were on fire.

He admired that level of detached dedication.

In any case, he dragged his ass into a cage that day and drove the Escalade down from his mountain top to the summer bash held at the church, to get the runts rehomed. They meowed in the box at his side, trying to climb out onto the passenger seat. He calmed the little bastards by letting them play with his fingers while he drove. Little shits bit him up like they thought he was their chew toy.

With his account with the local vet, he made sure they had all their shots then he raised them to a size and health that they were good to find owners.

It was up to the furry hooligans now whether they thrived or not.

“I see you’ve brought us some gremlins,” a voice to the left of him remarked, humor in the deep tone. Lawless twisted his head around to catch the friendly smile of the guy in charge of this whole shindig.

Irish Pastor Danny Murphy, now a Colorado resident, preaching to his adoring public.

He didn’t dress like any ordinary holy man. Black jeans and a white Henley with the sleeves pushed up his forearms and a red t-shirt over the top of it. With his floppy brown hair he looked like a teen pinup for obsessed girls to go crazy over. No wonder the guy always had naughty meat salivating over him. Probably why this charity event was primarily panting women.

“I’m sure they’ll go to good homes,” he said, bending down he started to give affection to the kittens and they fell over themselves to get to the new hand. The fattest one was the worst culprit.

“Looks like you’re claimed, holy man.”

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