Soulless (Lawless #2)(12)

When I opened my eyes, it really was King who was standing over me, his ginormous body cast in dark shadows, no evidence that he’d ingested any electronic devices. Thankfully, unlike my dream, I was fully dressed in a T-shirt and sweats, although I was still breathing hard, not yet fully recovered from the orgasm I’d almost had in my sleep. “Time to go home.”

Home? I sat up and rubbed my eyes. King instructed me to meet him outside in ten minutes and left the room. I tossed the covers off and made my way to the bathroom to take a shower.

A cold shower.

Home.

Where the f*ck is that?





CHAPTER SEVEN




Bear


A horn blasted overhead, calling yard time to an end and not a moment too soon. Miller and I went to the nearest exit, never taking our eyes off our new company. “Not you, McAdams,” the guard manning the gate said, pushing me back out into the yard after Miller had already gone back in.

“What the f*ck?” Miller asked, looking back as the guard slid the gate closed leaving me alone in the yard with my three former brothers who were making their way across the yard. Miller shot me a sympathetic look as another guard shooed him back inside the building.

“Thought you guys needed a moment alone. A little reunion of sorts,” the guard said with a sneer.

“Fuck you,” I spat, the mother f*cking guard knew exactly what the f*ck he was doing and I had no doubt he’d been paid off to do it. “Why don’t you come in here and we’ll see how f*cking funny you think this is.” The guard chuckled at the hilarity of three against one, twirling a set of keys around on his fingers. With a mock salute he followed Miller back into the cellblock, whistling as he went. The heavy door echoing across the yard as it slammed shut.

I cracked the bones in my neck, preparing myself for the fight of my life. I met the pussies at the picnic table I’d just vacated, and to my surprise, Wolf leaned against the table while Stone and Munch took seats. I’d kind of just assumed they’d get on with it already. Although Miller had just given me a pack of smokes, when I spied a pack in the front pocket of Wolf’s jumpsuit, I reached in and plucked it out along with a book of matches. “Thanks for the smoke,” I said, lighting one and tossing the matchbook onto the table. “You girls ready to try and do this, or what?”

Try being the most important word.

I wasn’t scared of these motherf*ckers. The only fear I really had was not seeing Ti again.

I was more annoyed than anything.

Agitated.

All those years and all that time wasted trying to make my brothers better outlaws and this was the best plan they could come up with? “I swear I taught you bitches better than this,” I said, shaking my head. “Taking me out in an open yard in front of a shit ton of cameras. Chop’s been losing his f*cking touch for years, but I expected more than this sloppy shit from you three.” I expected them to stand up, puff out their chests, and make their threats against me.

Something.

Munch and Stone looked to the ground while Wolf lit his own cigarette. Before the flame met the paper, I punched him in the eye, and he immediately dropped to the ground.

I was always better at offense.

“Chop sent us, but we ain’t here to take you out, f*cker,” Wolf said, rolling on the ground with his hand over his eye.

“Then what the f*ck did he send you here for? A f*cking tickle fight?” I breathed out the smoke through my nose, and although I had no idea how the next few minutes were going to play out, I felt relaxed amongst the familiar conflict.

At peace.

At home.

Adrenaline built as each second ticked by until I was positive I could flip a f*cking truck over if I had the chance.

Or take on three guys at once and win.

“No, he did send us here to take you out, but that’s not what we’re gonna do,” Munch said, standing up and helping Wolf off the ground.

“You’re going to go against your Prez’s orders?” I clucked my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “Now I’m actually disappointed. I must have been a real shitty teacher for you guys to make that kind of call.”

“We ain’t going against Prez’s orders,” Stone chimed in, standing up from the bench, “’Cause he ain’t our f*cking Prez anymore.”

“Come again?” I asked, unsure of what weird alternate universe I’d just stepped into.

Wolf released his eye, which was already starting to swell, and unzipped his jumpsuit. Pushing it down, he revealed his bare chest, which used to be covered with a full chest piece tattoo of the Bastards’ logo. Now, it was an oozing wound, tissue and strands of damaged skin stretched across his chest, only a fraction of the tattoo remained.

He winced as he zipped back up.

“What the f*ck? Chop do that?” I asked, pointing with my cigarette to Wolf.

He shook his head as both Munch and Stone revealed their own recently burned off tattoos. “No, he didn’t. We did. We all did.”

“Why?” I asked, standing there in complete disbelief that three of the Bastards’ most loyal soldiers had turned on their club. “What the f*ck did Chop do that made you feel like you had to go all pyro on yourselves?”

“Stone, tell him…” Munch said with a reassuring nod. “He’s gotta know if we plan on making this right.”