Page 6 of Law Maker

Swerving his neck, he saw one of the guards giving him the cautious eye, checking that he was steady.

Steady, like he thought Lawless was going to explode.

Please, his carnage came in a neater package than that.

Besides which, his fun bag of tricks was being kept safe back home at the club.

No serial killer left home without it. He missed all his fun toys.

Hawk better be double tagging the kills in his name.

“Penn.”

“Yeah?” He replied.

“There’s a card game starting up in the break room.”

“Who’s in?”

Dreyers reeled off five correctional officers names from different parts of the prison.

“What’s the buy in?”

Dreyers smirked. “A C-note.”

Lawless didn’t hesitate. Like taking candy from morons. “Give me twenty minutes.”

They were in charge but they’d wait for Lawless.

He might have sorted out a little infestation problem for them on his arrival.

What could he say, he was a humanitarian.

Plus he hated noise and he shut those fuckers up on principle. It was like corralling overgrown toddlers. Now they knew who the bigger kid in the playground was and they all lived harmoniously in K wing of Gen Pop.

Once alone, he took a seat at the table, pulling out a notebook and a black ball point pen.

His gut eroded from the inside like he’d swallowed a bucket of battery acid right from the source. Flames raced up his throat.

And he let the reason why filter into his gray matter.

Dark hair, darker soulful eyes pleading him was the cause.

Oh, yeah, didn’t he let that flow until it filled all the space. It wasn’t so much realization as it was a permanent reminder of what he wouldn’t allow himself to acknowledge.No way, bud.

He was thirty-three years old and felt ancient some days.

There were names for the likes of him, with dirty fucking ideas popping behind his eyeballs. Oh yeah, names he didn’t like.

Lawless’ hand was steady when he took the ink to paper.

A buoyancy in his leg as it jerked up and down.

Some twat in the great beyond was having a right old chuckle at his expense over this, he could hear it now, laughing at the man with no choices.

The wayshesummoned all the broken parts of himself and made them sting like bees—his skin on fire, his throat parched.

Oh, he knew what he wanted to drink, alright.

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