Page 10 of Lawless Deception

Two large hands land on the counter either side of me, caging me in, as I take my first mouthful.

“You better get used to being bossed about, Roxanne, ‘cause you won’t have a choice once word gets out who you are. What you are,” he growls in my ear, and the vibration of his deep timbre is like a fucking taser to my body. My nipples harden and a pulse starts a steady beat between my thighs. Outwardly, I remain calm and stoic, but inwardly, I’m a melting pot of molten desire. A desire that I thought I had been extinguished ten years ago.

How wrong I was.

How very fucking wrong.

ChapterSix

Maddox

She doesn’t flinch. Not even a catch of her breath. But I know she’s affected by my words and especially my closeness to her. I can smell her arousal beneath the tight jeans she’s wearing. I can picture the sheen of wetness coating her pussy and nipples as hard as fucking glass in that scrap of lace she’s wearing beneath her black t-shirt. I know her. I’ve watched her in the shadows for the last ten years. I’ve seen every man that’s ever crossed the threshold of her door, and their faces are stamped into my memory.

We may have walked away from her, left her at a time when she needed us the most, but we had our reasons. Valid reasons that Roxanne knows nothing about. And those same reasons are why we are now forcing our way back into her life and seemingly destroying it.

Roxanne moves forward, pushing her body into the counter in front of her and away from me. Raising the glass to take another mouthful, my hand comes up and takes it from her fingers before it hits her lips, and I place it on the counter, locking her back in again.

Emitting a small growl, she spins round to face me. “I don’t know what delusional idea you have in your head about how this will work but laying your hands on me is a sure-fire way to end up in a hospital bed. And if you think that my agreement to help you even remotely gives you licence to boss me about then you’re fucking wrong, Maddox.”

I let out a deep, rumbling chuckle before dropping all humour from my face. I inch my body forward into hers and raise a hand to grip her chin, preventing her from turning away from me and ensuring that not only can she feel what I’m about to say, but also see and hear every damn word.

“This will work how I fucking say it will work. From the moment you said yes, your every breath, every move and every damn whimper that falls from these lips”—I run my thumb over her lower lip, and this time, she’s unable to hide her reaction to me. Her eyes widen, and she inhales a sharp breath—“will be mine. I fucking own you—” The rest of my words are cut off as her phone rings, breaking the heated moment. Nevertheless, I think she got the message. I release her chin and push back away from her, giving her some space just as the call rings off.

She releases a snarl, and I can see the wild, rage-filled fire glowing in her eyes as she takes a step toward me. The ringing of her phone again stops her, and she drops her eyes from me to the counter behind her. It’s a split second of distraction but enough for me to slip out as quietly and undetected as I arrived.

Outside, I jump over the back fence into the garden behind, making sure to check for ponds first. It’s been quite a few years since I did any garden hopping, but somethings never leave you. And falling into a pond while escaping from the old bill is a memory and lesson I’ve not forgotten.

Stepping out of the alley to where I left my ride, my attention is drawn to a commotion at a house over the road. I watch as a woman throws clothes from an upstairs window while screaming and shouting at the man standing in the garden below.

“Take your shit and go find your little whore. If she wants you, she can fucking have you. I’m fucking done, you piece of shit!”

A smile lifts at the corner of my lips as I turn away from the scene. Some guys just never learn that sticking your dick in another girl while you’re dating someone ain’t worth the hassle. It’s better to be free to stick your dick wherever it wants. Although, it gets boring pretty fucking quick, especially when you have girls tripping over themselves to take a ride.

I open the door to the BMW parked at the side of the road and climb inside. Without looking to the man in the passenger seat, I start the engine and pull away, leaving the still warring couple behind.

I don’t talk, and Rocky doesn’t try to engage me in a pointless conversation. When we pull up, I switch off the engine and open the glove box, pulling out my pistol and checking the chamber before climbing from the car. As I exit, I shove the gun into the holster beneath my suit jacket. I have my favourite blade stashed in a holster at my ankle. I do like a blade, a little messier for sure, but more personable and a hell of a lot more fun than simply shooting the object of your ire. But shooting my enemies is where my talents lie. I leave the slicing and dicing to Zak.

Rocky joins me, and together we walk a little way down the road to the meet up venue; The Watchtower. It’s the only safe place to meet allies and enemies alike.

The Watchtower is Switzerland; a neutral place where you leave all your vendettas at the door. Run by Mickey Rawlins, a man that has no interest in territory, drugs, guns or any other shit that the rest of London’s criminals like to fight over. His interest lies in the hotel business, wholly legitimate too. The Watchtower and it’s clientèle are the only thing that even comes close to breaking the law.

Zak wasn’t wrong about Bonner being paranoid and unpredictable, and it’s hardly surprising considering the amount of coke he shoves up his nose lately. It’s part of the reason why Zak wasn’t happy I came without him. I’m not worried. Bonner doesn’t scare me, and I’d happily gut the guy with barely a second thought, but I like to play the long game. And that right there is the other reason Zak wasn’t happy to not be here.

What people don’t realise or seem to forget is that it’s not the loud, quick tempered, brash arsehole you need to watch for, their bark is usually worse than their bite, but the reserved observer that sits silently in the background, he’s the one that you really need to fear.

Bonner’s alignment with Roger’s also isn’t a surprise. He’s fucked off a lot of people, stepped on a lot of toes, trying to claim more territory for his drugs distribution, and he thinks that having Roger’s at his back is going to save his arse.

Up ahead, I watch one of the two bouncers on the door of The Watchtower as his mouth moves, no doubt announcing our arrival, while the other one steps forward to open the doors as we approach.

“Evening, gentlemen,” he greets.

Rocky and I offer a nod in return as we step inside. We are then greeted by another pair of bouncers, who call us forward for a pat down.

“No weapons inside, Mr Lawler,” the bouncer patting me down announces as he removes the gun from its holster with gloved hands. He opens the chamber, emptying it, and placing the gun and bullets into a container.

“Since fucking when?” I snap. Being patted down isn’t new, but the no weapons policy that now seems to be in place is. Or is that just for us?

“Since now, Mr Lawler,” he snaps right back, eyes hard with a deep scowl furrowing his brow.

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