Page 17 of Tiny's Law

I’m a grown fucking man with quite a few notches on my damn bedpost, but that little knockout in her designer clothes came in and put me right on my ass. I feel like some fucking prepubescent boy that’s never known the warmth of a willing female before. Fuck.

Take now, for example, as I wait for the rest of the guys to fill the room, my cock getting harder by the second at the image of the blonde pulled up on my screen.

I’m currently situated in my usual spot at the table, reading an article about a bank robbery that Kourtney successfully got lowered to a misdemeanor right out of law school. How the fuck does someone, who was proven guilty beyond a reasonable doubt, get their charges lowered to a misdemeanor after a bank robbery that resulted in over two million dollars missing? How the fuck is that even possible?

I’ll tell you how– she’s a sorceress that seeps into people’s souls. I’m convinced. That’s the only way to explain how just the sight of her and a handful of simple sentences uttered from her perfect mouth has left me completely enraptured with her.

Sorceress. She fucking has to be.

“Shit,” Ghost grumbles as he enters the room, followed by Tex and the rest of the guys. “Trigger and Bull are on the way. We can start without ’em and fill in later.”

I plug the cords into the back of my laptop, quickly closing the page with Kourtney’s face plastered across it, and click on the arrest records of the two shit stains that were here last night. My computer screen mirrors to the large touch screen across the room.

“Who the hell are these two?” Reaper asks with a snarl.

I push up from my chair and grab my wireless remote. I click on the wall to enlarge the first page. “This is Robert Brown, a 25-year-old felon who has been arrested on multiple charges of grand larceny, arson, petty theft, breaking and entering, and, my personal favorite, being part of a group that runs a shitty chop shop.”

I can feel everyone’s skeptical eyes on the back of my head as I switch over to the other tab I have saved. “Now, meet Jake Davidson, a 26-year-old with arrests including all of the above, plus larceny that resulted in, you guessed it, running a chop shop. He did four years upstate in the same prison where you did your time, Ringer.”

Ringer’s brows furrow. “Zoom in on that picture.”

“I’ll do you one better.” I click through his arrests and select the one showing a mugshot from when he did time with Ringer.

When the mugshot enlarges on the screen, Ringer curses. “I’ll be fucking damned.”

“You know him?” Flame asks.

Ringer nods. “We were on laundry duty together. He stole a tool, and we went on lockdown. I never ratted on him, but when they found it on him, he was convinced I squealed since I was there when he stole it. If you ask me, it was his cellmate that ratted, probably because that’s who he was gonna fucking use it on. We got into it a few times in the courtyard, but he was too chicken shit to ever do anything.”

“That makes a little more sense. But once I discovered the connection, I still couldn’t figure out how these two fucking dropout idiots were able to outsmart my security or knew where we were going to be and when.”

“Get to it, Tiny. I’m fucking tired,” Ghost grumbles.

I wave him off, flipping to another screen. “This is Keith Davidson. Look familiar?”

“What the fuck?” a few of the guys spout in tandem.

“Hawk,” Ghost blurts.

I nod. “Hawk, president of the Dragon’s Ace and, most importantly, Jake Davidson’s older brother. But that’s not all.”

I click to the next image, which shows a young woman holding a small baby in her arms outside the Dragon’s clubhouse. “This is Sydney Carter. Look familiar?”

A few of the guys concentrate on the screen and try to figure out if there is any recognition of the pretty young girl. “Let me make it easier for ya.”

I flip to the next screen, and a chorus of curses from gaped mouths sounds from around the table.

“Motherfucker!” Bones shouts, slamming his fist on the wooden table.

The picture on the screen is one from this very clubhouse a few years back at a cookout. The girl in this picture is visibly younger, no older than sixteen at the time of the party. Sitting next to her, with his arm around her, is Beau.

“That’s Beau’s little sister,” Flame says quizzically.

Ringer lets out a growl and slams his fist on the table. “What do Beau and his sister have to do with this, Tiny?”

I click to the next screen, displaying a picture of the same girl just a few years older, looking miserable and way too skinny, with Hawk holding the same baby right next to her.

“Explain, Tiny,” Bones seethes.

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