Unlawfully Yours (Lawless MC #1)

11

I’ve always loved a morning ride, especially on a bright, crisp Sunday morning like today.

I remember my very first ride, on the back of my dad’s old Harley when I was eight years old. It was my first time riding on one and it was then that my love of motorcycles began. I’d always known it was in my blood, that Lawless would one day be mine, but that morning, clinging to my dad’s worn leather kutte, it was the first time I ever felt that love run soul-deep. That rush of power and freedom, its a feeling I’m yet to find anything to compare it to.

I glance up at the crystal blue sky above me, the humidity in the air moistening my skin as the sun grows hotter. The throaty growl of the engine sends chills up my spine as it sweeps around the wide bends of the open road, the heavy vibrations radiating outwards through my entire body.

I’ve never felt so free.

All of the weight hanging around my shoulders, all the worry and the stress fades away, disappearing into the wind that whips up around me.

Here, now , it’s just me and my bike.

I pull up beside the town’s namesake, the roaring waterfall that cascades over the rocks and down into wide open lake below. The sun reflects off the ripples on the surface like a million diamonds twinking in the light. I shut off the bike’s engine and flick out the kickstand. It’s so beautiful here, so serene.

Peaceful.

Unfortunately for me, that peacefulness is short-lived. Right on schedule, the signature sound of her heels signals her arrival, each step setting me a little more on edge. That tranquility I spoke of earlier is swallowed up by the walking black hole that nears me.

“Christina,” I grit out without even looking at her. I can’t bring myself to. Every single month we do this and it never seems to get any easier, in fact it gets harder.

“Myles. How are you?” she asks, her words empty as she comes to a stop a metre away.

“Do you even care? Let’s get this over with, I’ve got shit to do.” I pull out the thick white envelope from my inside pocket and hold it out to her.

Her pristinely manicured blood red nails graze my fingers as she takes it. She flicks through the wad of bills and shoves the envelope into her bag. “Much appreciated, but I want more.”

I laugh and finally my eyes find hers. They’re empty, void of any emotion. “Keep dreaming because this is all you’re getting.”

She cocks her head, her bleach blonde hair ruffling in the breeze. “Do I have to remind you what’s at stake here?”

“Don’t fucking threaten me. We have a deal. Two grand a month, that’s it.”

“And I want more, Myles. If you want to take this to the courts, I’m more than happy to oblige. Who do you think they’ll side with, huh? A thug who runs a biker gang or the poor mother who only wants to get to know her beloved son, forced out of his life by his violent father.” She lays the last part on real fucking thick, playing the victim like she always has and my blood boils in my veins.

Mother . What a fucking joke.

“How much?” I ask purely out of curiosity.

“Four grand a month.”

“You greedy bitch.” I scoff, though I’d be lying if I said I was surprised.

She puts her hands on her hips. “Deal or no deal, Myles?”

“Go fuck yourself, you’re not getting a dime more from me.”

“You’re gonna regret this.”

“Am I? You want a war? I’ll give you one because over my dead fucking body will you ever take my son from me. You never gave a shit about Kit and you know it. I look at you now, and I wonder how I ever fell for such a conniving, lying cunt. How did I not see right through you, Christina?”

She smirks. “The powers of having a pussy, Myles. You boys are so whipped.”

“How can you be like this? How can you look at yourself in the mirror?”

“Can’t see for the dollar bills raining down around me, but pretty soon the kid will be mine and I’ll rinse you for even more in child support.”

“What judge would ever award custody to the woman who walked out on her baby and left him to starve, drowning in his own shit at only a few weeks old?”

There’s no hint of guilt. No remorse for her actions. The woman I once loved is long gone, in her place is someone I no longer recognise but it has me wondering if I ever truly knew her at all?

“We’ll see.” She smiles, enjoying the challenge before turning and walking away with her head high.

To think I loved that bitch once makes my stomach turn. Christina Richards is the reason I will never allow a woman that much power over me again, no matter how beguiling they are.

No matter how much they get under my skin.

Never again.

By the time I get home, Kit is in the living room, pulling on his shoes.

“You ready to go to Ray and Rita’s?” I ask.

“Almost.”

I crouch in front of him and help tie his shoelaces.

“Dad, I can do it,” he complains.

“I know, but let me.” I know he’s old enough and more than capable of doing it himself, but I hate how fast he’s growing up. I want to keep him dependent on me for as long as I can.

It breaks my heart every time I look at him to think he has never known a mother, never felt a mother’s love like a boy should. I want to give him everything.

The first time I laid eyes on him, I fell hard for my son. I knew from that moment that nothing and nobody would ever tear me away from my son, certainly not his bitch of a mother.

Once I’ve tied his laces, I rise to my feet. “Come on, buddy. Let’s go.”

Everyone’s there when Kit and I arrive at Ray and his wife, Rita’s house for our two-weekly get-together. When the weather is bad, Rita cooks us up her famous steak, and when the weather is as glorious as it is today, we head outside for a barbecue.

Rita is the first to greet us, pulling a reluctant Kit in for a hug and a kiss to his cheek and he squirms away, nearing that age when affection from family becomes embarrassing and uncool.

She turns her attention to me. “Good to see you, my boy. How are you?” She pulls me in for a hug and I return it.

I press a kiss to her cheek, brushing her silver grey hair from her face. “I’m good, Rita.”

She’s been like a mother to me ever since my own passed away when I was a kid. Her husband, Ray founded Lawless alongside my dad back in the eighties and I’ve known Rita all of my life. She’s the mother to this dysfunctional found-family that is the MC, the woman we all look up to and secretly fear. She’s got a mean right hand that’s not afraid to slap us into shape when necessary. Hell, her own husband has seen it once or twice over the years.

“What’s this I’m hearing about some woman cop the boys are gossiping about?”

“Don’t believe everything you hear, Ri. She’s a royal pain in my ass and nothing more.”

She gives me a disbelieving look. “If you say so.”

When I head out into the back yard, the smell of food sizzling on the barbecue hits my nose, making my stomach growl with hunger.

I immediately seek out Cruiser, nursing a beer as he leans against the garden fence. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Name it.”

“I need everything you can get on Christina.”

His eyes widen. “As in… Christina ?”

I nod. “Don’t mention this to Jett, or anyone . I’ve been paying her off every month. Money in exchange for leaving Kit alone but she wants more. I refused and she’s threatening custody.”

“ Fuck.. . Think she has a chance to take him away from you?”

The thought chills me to the bone. “It’s just a precaution. Over my dead fucking body will she get custody of my son. She wouldn’t dare go through with it, it’s not like she’s took any interest in him in the eleven years he’s been alive. She knows as well as I do no judge would ever give her custody. But I want anything you can find, as much dirt as possible. She wants to fight dirty, I’ll fight dirtier.” Anything for my son.

“You got it. Don’t worry, Prez. We’ve all got your back.”

“Thanks, man.” I clap him on the back, just as my eyes catch on Venom hovering not too far away.

I move over to him. “Venom.”

“Yeah, man. What’s up?”

“I uh, I heard Brad Levins was found dead out by the lake a few days ago.”

His face gives nothing away. “No kidding?”

I shake my head. “I need to know it wasn’t you that killed him.”

He rears back, his mouth agape as he stares at me. “The fuck?”

“I’m not accusing you, I just need you to look me in the eye and swear you weren’t the one who killed him. I know how you felt on the subject when we had him at the garage, but you’ve been at my side for a long damn time and I trust you. But I need to know for sure that it wasn’t you.”

He looks me dead in the eye. “Prez, I swear.”

I search his eyes for any sign that he’s lying to me. I’ve known this guy for nearly two decades, I used to consider myself a pretty good judge of character, up until my ex proved me wrong. Now, I don’t trust so easily.

I nod. “Okay.”

“You shouldn’t have to question my loyalty, Myles, and it hurts you feel the need to.” With that, he stalks away, snatching a beer from the cool box and storming inside the house.

Fuck, I’m ready for a drink too, or several .

I toss my head back, taking a long swig of my beer, the warm afternoon sun beating down over me, it’s heat prickling on my skin. Laughter from across the yard catches my attention and I follow the sound with my eyes.

Jack is sat on the rattan sofa with his pregnant girlfriend, Jade on his lap, her arm slung around his shoulders as he tickles her senseless.

A corner of my mouth curves up.

Fuck, I remember that feeling. The excitement of being young, carefree and in love. A feeling akin to longing grips me, a heaviness pressing down on my chest as I recall a time long ago that I too experienced that. The excitement of it. How those butterflies riot in your belly at the sight of her, how your heart pumps a little faster when you’re around her and your fingers itch to touch her.

Her face pops into my mind and I stiffen.

No matter how much I try to distract myself, that snarky little pixie is always there in my mind. Her smart mouth taunting me. That tight body of hers underneath her uniform tempting me.

“Man, you’ve gotta get yourself an old lady.” Jett’s voice startles me as he sinks into the chair beside me, tossing back his beer, following my line of vision.

I shake my head. “Don’t need one.”

“Sure about that? If ever there was a man who needs some decent pussy in his life, it’s you. I’m surprised your dick hasn’t fallen off it’s been out of action that long. At this point you’re practically a virgin, bro.”

I pin my brother with my eyes. “I can assure you I’m no virgin, asshole.”

He barks out a laugh. “Look, I get you swore off women when that little bitch left, but you’re too good a man and pussy is too fucking sweet to just go to waste.”

The mention of Christina has my hand tightening around my beer. “Women are a distraction I definitely don’t need right now.”

“And yet you’re already getting distracted. It’s the cop, ain’t it? The woman?”

I huff, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I don’t know man, I— She gets under my skin, and no matter how many times I try to shake her, she’s always there.”

What do I need to do to prove to you that I’m not your enemy?

My words from last week echo in my mind. Why the fuck did I say that ? I’ve never given a shit about what people think of me before, life’s too short to worry about stuff like that, but for some strange reason, I do give a shit when it comes to her. I care about what she thinks of me.

Who am I?

Getting under my skin is the understatement of the fucking century. She’s not just under my skin, she’s everywhere. She’s seeped her way into my bloodstream to the point I can’t think straight, to the point I say shit I shouldn’t. She’s like a drug and every interaction we have is another hit that spikes my blood.

“I saw the two of you at the bar on Friday. Looked pretty intense from where I was sitting.”

“Pretty sure she hates me. In fact, I know she does.”

“So what? You want my advice?”

“No, but you’re gonna give it to my anyway,” I deadpan.

“Fuck her. Hard . Hate sex is the best kind there is. It’s rough and primal… nothing compares. Just fuck her and get all that sexual tension out of the way so you can move the fuck on. Think about it, bro.” He pats me on the shoulder as he rises from his chair, moving to where Kill and Cruiser are engrossed in conversation.

I won’t tell him this, but I’m worried that if I do get close, indulge in the delights that come with that wicked mouth, that one night with her will never be enough for me.

She says she’s not easily corrupted, not morally, anyway. But there are other ways to corrupt her. I imagine dirtying up that tight little body of hers, driving her to the point where she’s begging for me to make her come. Hell, with that thought alone, I’m tempted to take her up on that challenge just to prove her wrong, but I’m pretty sure she’d end up corrupting me.