Unlawfully Yours (Lawless MC #1)

6

“Criminal activity is fairly low here. We get a few speeders and petty theft but aside from that, it’s not that exciting,” Ryan tells me as we cruise around the town.

“Back home we were lucky to go a day without armed burglary or a murder of some kind.”

Ryan glances across to me from behind the wheel. “Seriously? That’s wild! It’s pretty chill here. Some days we’re out on patrol, just to show the community we’re there should they need us. Other times we’re at the station writing reports and all that boring shit.”

We make a brief stop for lunch at the local diner once he’s showed me around, despite seeing it only a few days ago before heading back to the car. As we step back out onto the street, my eyes snag on a large group of people who have formed across the street behind a long row of motorbikes parked up on the curb.

Shouts and grunts filter from the opposite side of the street but I’m struggling to make out what’s going on from this distance. I block out the sun with my hand and squint.

From here it looks like a fist fight.

“What the hell?” I start walking, resting my hand on the gun at my hip on instinct.

“Allie. Don’t,” Ryan calls from behind me.

I spin around. “Are you serious? There’s a fight in the middle of the street in broad daylight and you’re suggesting we just walk away. By all means go ahead, but I’m not.”

“No. All—”

I’m already halfway across the street and it takes a few seconds before I hear his footsteps catch up with mine as he curses under his breath.

Up close, it’s not as bad as I first thought. From a distance it looked like a mass brawl of a dozen or more, but now I can see most are just spectators enjoying the show.

The five men in the middle are tearing shit out of each other, fists flying in all directions, one guy taking on two men by himself.

I push my way through the crowd and my blood spikes when I notice the patch on the back of more than one of the guys. The patch I saw those bikers wearing through the coffee shop window this morning. A skull looking all too happy in his sunglasses clutching motorcycle handlebars with its bony hands, the word ‘Lawless’ in huge white embroidered letters across the top.

A few of the guys wear similar leather kuttes, bearing the words, ‘The Cobras’ and my stomach bottoms out and I’m momentarily thrown off balance, the world around me spinning.

An image flashes through my mind from when I was seven, a brief flash of a snake, it’s body coiled tight around a dagger, its fangs long, the look in its eyes menacing. It’s like there’s a room in the darkest corner of my mind and the image of that snake was the key that unlocked the door to a memory.

A memory I never knew I had.

I recognise that snake. I first saw it twenty years ago on the back of a biker who cruised past me as I clutched the body of my dad as he lay dying in my arms.

Oh my God.

It’s them.

“You piece of shit! I should kill you where you stand!” It’s the loud holler from one of the guys, the one who is currently fighting off two Cobras single-handedly that drags me back to reality and I kick into action.

“Hey! Break it up!” I move on instinct towards him.

His back is to me. He’s built like a tree, at least six or seven inches to my 5”’, but I don’t let it deter me. He too wears the Lawless patch, and getting a good grip on his leather kutte, I yank him back. Hard .

“Put your hands behind your back, you’re under arrest,” I say, forcing his thick, muscular arms behind him, shoving him against the side of a car parked close by.

“Arrest? For what ?” His voice is low and velvety smooth and an involuntary shiver rolls down my spine.

“You really have to ask that? I’d have thought a grown man would know better than to assault someone in the street in the middle of the day.”

“You gonna arrest those Cobra assholes too? I wasn’t the only one throwing punches, sweetheart.”

“Right now, you’re my priority. It was you, after all threatening to ‘kill him where he stands’ ,” I paraphrase.

“You’re making a big mistake,” he cautions over his shoulder.

I tighten the handcuffs around his wrists and press him harder against the side of the car. “Believe me, it takes more than a brute with a skull on his jacket to scare me.”

I spin him around to face me, pressing my palm against his solid chest and I have to crane my neck to look up at his face.

“Fuck, you’re strong for a little thing.” His mouth curves into a smirk as if he’s impressed, strong full lips made for kisses that last all night long and a sharp jawline that could cut through glass.

I let my eyes lift to his and I instantly regret it. Jesus, I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes so blue before. They’re vivid, like the colour of the ocean surface that ripples under the mid-day sun. They’re the kind of eyes you can find yourself drowning in.

I swallow hard, forcing my eyes away from his before I do just that. “Do you have anything on you that could be used to harm me or yourself?”

“I’ve got somethin’ for you, sugar,” one of the Cobra guys hollers before my guy has a chance to respond.

I ignore him and keep my eyes trained on the man in front of me. “Well?”

He shakes his head slowly, his eyes not leaving mine for a second as they study me. I expect his eyes to dip down to peruse my body like every other guy always does when presented with the opportunity, but his doesn’t.

The way he’s looking at me isn’t the look of an angry man who’s being arrested, a man too proud to be arrested by a woman half his size. Instead, I’m surprised to find his gaze soft as he peers down at me. Almost… curious . But I force down the feeling blossoming in my chest under his stare.

I begin patting him down, feeling for any potential weapons and I can’t miss the fact that there isn’t an ounce of fat on his body, only muscle. He’s a handsome guy and under different circumstances, I think I could even be attracted to him, but it’s then my eyes snag on the word President on his kutte and something sour curdles in my gut. This guy isn’t just a patched member, he’s their fucking leader.

One of his buddies wolf whistles as I continue patting down their leader, trailing my hands down his denim-covered legs and I grit my teeth, forcing myself to not react. I feel under the hem of his jeans and my fingers snag on something cold tucked inside his right boot.

I pull out a small switchblade and rise to my feet, holding it up in front of him. I cock an eyebrow. “Nothing on you that could hurt me, right? Sir, you have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law—”

“I don’t think you wanna do this, sweetheart,” the guy interjects.

“One, don’t call me sweetheart. And two, I suggest you keep quiet and save the idle threats for your police interview. You have the right to an attorney, if you can’t afford one, one will be provided, though I have to warn you, they’re not very good.”

His lips curl into a smirk through the stubble that covers the entire lower half of his face, and something shoots through to my core at the thought of how that would feel against the inside of my thighs.

No! I shut that thought down.

Not him. Anyone but him.

“Wasn’t meant as a threat, darlin’, only as a friendly word of warning.”

I scoff. “I doubt there’s a friendly bone in your body.”

“Ouch, you’re hurting my feelings.” His crystal blue eyes sparkle with amusement.

I roll my eyes. “Save it.”

I glance to my left to see Ryan has apprehended two of The Cobras’ men as he begins guiding them towards the squad car parked across the street just as another pulls up behind it. Ryan must have called for back up.

“Prez, want us to do anything?” one of my guy’s buddies asks, the tall one that was brawling with his Prez.

“No, don’t worry about me. Got a feeling all this will be over before we know it.” He tosses a glance to me at that last part and smirks as if he knows something I don’t.

I don’t like it.

I shove him forward, crossing the street towards the other car, ignoring how the skin of my hand tingles where it brushes against his. Opening the rear door, I help him into the back.

“Why did you arrest him ?” the officer asks as he steps out of the car, nodding to the man sat in the back of my squad car.

“He was fighting in the street, what else was I supposed to do? There’s another back there; tall, long dark hair tied back into a bun, he was also fighting, can you grab him? I only picked up one set of cuffs.”

“Killian Hunt’s not a problem. I’m gonna ride back with Eaton, you’re on your own with this one,” the officer says, climbing into the squad car in front.

What the fuck is going on?

What is it about this guy?

Once I’m behind the wheel, I follow closely behind Ryan on the short distance back to the station.

“Not seen you around here before. You new?” the guy in the back seat asks.

“It appears so,” I reply, not taking my eyes off the road.

“You got a name, darlin’?”

“Yep.”

“You gonna tell me or have I got to guess?”

Our eyes meet through the rear-view mirror. “I have no interest in getting on a first name basis with you.”

He sits back in his seat. “You’re breaking my heart, beautiful. Guess I’m just gonna have to come up with my own name for you, huh?”

My hands tighten around the steering wheel. “Knock yourself out.” Literally .

Thankfully, he doesn’t speak for the rest of the short journey back to the station. Once we arrive, I slam on the brakes a little harder than I need to, sending the guy sat behind me surging forward into the metal partition of the car with a groan.

“Oops. Sorry .”

He chuckles with a small shake of his head.

Rather than fight me or goad me some more, he allows me to guide him through the entrance to the front desk with no resistance.

“Eaton! What the hell is going on here?” Sheriff Walker stomps down the hall towards us, his eyes darting between us accusingly.

“Caught Lawless and The Cobras fighting, Boss.”

“Eaton, take those two to the cells,” he says, nodding to the two Cobras, “we’ll deal with them later. Whose idea was it to arrest Lawson?” Walker nods towards my guy.

Ryan’s regretful gaze lands on me as he mouths the word ‘sorry’ . “Adams, Sir.”

“Hughes,” Walker begins, looking at the other officer, “Uncuff Mr. Lawson, please.”

“ What? Why? Sir, he was brawling in the middle of the street,” I protest.

“Adams, don’t argue with me on this,” he warns as Officer Hughes begins uncuffing this Lawson guy.

“But I—”

Sheriff Walker shoots me a warning glare. “I suggest you wrap this up and see me in my office.” He turns to the brute beside me, “Mr. Lawson, I apologise for the misunderstanding. Adams is new here and doesn’t yet understand our ways.”

The fuck?

“No sweat. I’m sure she’ll fall in line soon enough.” His eyes flick to me and he does little to hide the smirk tugging at his mouth.

Asshole .

“Who the hell do you think you are?”

“ Adams! ” Walker snaps. “My office.” And with that, he turns and marches away.

My cheeks flame as I stare at the floor, angry tears burning the backs of my eyes.

“You’ve still got my knife, peaches,” Lawson points out.

I reluctantly pull it out of my pocket and slap it into his open palm.

He bends to tuck it back inside his boot before rising back to stand, towering over me. “Well, Adams . It sure was lovely to meet you. I guess I’ll be seeing you around.” Lawson almost seems excited at the Prospect.

My gaze finds his and I squash down the lone little butterfly that flips in my belly when our eyes connect. “I can guarantee it.”

His chin lifts, hearing the unmistakable challenge and determination behind my words.

This guy might have everyone under his thumb, but he sure as fuck doesn’t have me.

He runs his fingers through his dark wavy hair. It’s brushed back, the ends curling around his ears and falling over his forehead effortlessly. “Have a nice day, beautiful. Hope Walker doesn’t chew you out too hard.”

The bastard winks at me and I’m certain I hear him chuckle under his breath as he disappears out the door, tossing one last glance over his shoulder.

What an arrogant asshole. An annoyingly beautiful one at that.

Heaving a frustrated sigh, I storm down the hall towards Walker’s office, praying to God he’s not going to fire me on my first day.