Page 5 of Law Maker

Prison meat was so fucking rude.

But they soon got the message and left Lawless alone.

He was getting closer to his goal.

“Bennie. Run and get me a steak sandwich, no mustard this time, but I’ll take ranch if they have it. Some barbeque chips and a pop.”

It was the first time he’d spoken to his cellie that week.

Five days and not a word exchanged.

No wonder skittish Bennie jumped like he’d been electrocuted.

“I—Sure. Right away, boss.” Tennessee born Bennie exclaimed.

Lawless was in a medium secure prison in Wyoming. Maybe he would have preferred to be in high risk with the serial killers and psychos.

His tribe.

These low crime motherfuckers were boring the shit out of him.

He couldn’t even get a reasonable conversation from Bennie without the guy pissing himself scared. Because Lawless arrived into the prison with an already established fearful reputation which meant everyone gave him a wide berth on sight.

Was that his fault?

It didn’t suck to be an outlaw with that kind of clout; he didn’t even have to flaunt himself on social media.

One hundred and twenty-one days down and only nine hundred and seventy-four to go.

Less for good behavior.

It wasn’t so bad; it could be much worse.

But the confinement was Lawless’ real problem, even as he’d attempted to prepare himself for it.

It chewed at his brain until he thought he was dropping brain cells at an alarming rate. He almost played dominoes with one of the old timers yesterday. If that was not impending stupid knocking on his door, he didn’t know what was.

Only his self-discipline and extraordinary high IQ made it possible to use the stimuli without him going insane. Low latent inhibition was his diagnosis. Lawless called it his super power. Antisocial disorder—not only limited to exploitation, manipulation and a lack of empathy was also in a file somewhere with his name on it.

People did love theirlabels. It made them feel better to have a name.

He’d say his fanatical focus was his best asset.

Or the way he could murder and then sit down for a pot roast.

It was a toss-up.

Someone with his abilities usually had a strong affliction for empathy too.

That disadvantage bypassed Lawless.

He cultivated his give-a-fuck fields often.

What would his dear bitch of a momma think of him now?

As if hecaredfor her opinion. The kid blindly loved the neglectful bitch. The man knew different.

Knuckles rapped on the door jamb.

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