Saving Lawson (Loving Lawson 2)

We were making a fucking killing.

“Tell ‘em to fuck off,” I told Marko.

They’d had their talk with Marko before. Ever since Ryker got out three weeks ago and shined the spotlight on us, we were seeing these fuckers everywhere.

Marko rolled up his sleeves, a small smirk playing at his lips, and he walked to them. He met them halfway, putting up his hand to stop them from going further. The three men stopped, but they snarled curses at him like they were bigger and more badass. Silly fucking idiots. Throw them all together and he was still bigger than them.

“We want to talk to Heath this time,” Maggot Number One – clearly the spokesperson of the group – said.

“Lawson only does appointments,” Marko casually replied.

He pointed at me. “He’s right fuckin’ there!”

Marko shrugged. “He could be breathing down your fucking neck right this second and he’ll still require an appointment.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“Bullshit or not, that’s just the way it is.”

Maggot Number Two took the calm route, asking, “Well… when do you think we can make the earliest appointment?”

Fuckin’ idiot.

Marko thought for a moment. “The earliest one for scumbags like you… is fucking never. So fuck off.”

“Do you know who we work for?” Maggot One hollered. “You know the kind of hell I could rain on you fuckers with just one phone call?”

Marko nodded, reasonably composed, and amused. “To answer your question, yeah, we know who you work for, and we know the kind of hell you could rain on us, but we’re prepared. And the fact remains, if you want to talk to Lawson… you still need to make an appointment.”

“No, I’ve had enough playing games with you fuckers, thinking we’re fucking soft! That’s what you think, right? That we’re soft? We ain’t soft!”

Neither of us flinched when all three maggots began pulling out their guns, shouting curses at him and me, demanding to get what they want. Immediately, our guys around the gym abandoned their posts having already caught on to what was happening. Fighters that trained here and earned a wage for being my muscle jumped into action. All ten of them – muscled and huge in their own right – crowded around the maggots, removing their own weapons: knives, guns, even a fucking hammer – the fuck?! – I didn’t even know could be hidden so discreetly in a pair of sweatpants.

Amused, I bit on the toothpick and suppressed the urge to smile. This is why they were hired in the first place. They were my weapon. I didn’t need a gun or a knife as some kind of fuckin’ indication of how strong I was. I just needed men.

Indispensable, loyal men.

“Well, isn’t this interesting,” Marko mused, staring around at all our muscle. “You see all this? This is just one little taste of the hell we can rain down on you soft fuckers.”

The maggots had gone still, staring in shock at the men that’d walled themselves around them.

“You threaten us, then you’re threatening all of us,” Marko growled out, stepping closer to them as their guns wavered.

Maggot Number One looked over Marko’s shoulder and stared straight at me. Spitting out my toothpick, I stared on back, my body already jumping with the adrenaline to knock them out clean. Violence didn’t make sense to me before unless I was fighting for money. But now it made as much sense as it was to breathe. It didn’t get to me. Blood didn’t fuss me anymore. I’d relish in the kill of anybody who wanted to kill me first. Just like the two fuck-heads that put this mark on my throat.

I was hardened, and I was cruel. And I didn’t give a fuck about either of those things. I’d changed out of necessity because the man I was before would have never done what I did out of moral obligation. But times had changed. Survival wasn’t about what was right or wrong. It was about striking before you were struck first.

When the maggot saw the raw look of rage in my eyes, he put his gun down. The other two followed, and seconds later they were hurrying out of the gym, and my men followed them right up until the parking lot.

Marko turned to me and grinned. “Fuckin’ pussies,” he muttered.

I nodded. “Fuckin’ pussies,” I repeated.

“They’ll go and report it to mum and daddy, huh?”

“Oh, yeah. They’ll be crying long and hard about this. Big fuckin’ targets on our backs now.”

He nodded and came to stand beside me. Following my line of sight to the doors, he asked, “You feeling alright, man? We’re nearing the end of the line here. Nervous?”

“No, not nervous. Just hungry.”

Hungry for revenge.

“If I showed up tonight, will Allie skin my ass alive?”

I scoffed. “Don’t be like that, man. She doesn’t hate you so much anymore.”

“No, ever since the attack, she’s been kind of alright, I guess.”

The attack.

I didn’t like to remember the way she screamed and hurried to me. The tears that fell from her eyes as she apologized over and over again. Apologized for what, though?

I’d felt my life slipping away. My body had gone limp and I hadn’t felt much of it anymore. The corners of my vision had darkened, and I was acutely aware I was approaching my death. It was almost tempting to just let go. But I couldn’t leave her. There were so many things I hadn’t done. There were so many words I wanted to say.

I fought for Allie. For a chance to make things right and to give her the happily ever after she’d always dreamed about.

What I didn’t expect when I woke up in a hospital bed was to feel the deep void inside of me. My emotions had dwindled. They told me I was in shock and probably traumatized. That it was most likely self-preservation, or whatever psychoanalysis babble they wanted to feed me at the time.

If it was anything like that, it would have gone away by now, right? Instead, my shoulders still felt weighed down, and my anger… I had a goddamn, motherfucking anger problem! It didn’t help Allie had to go and make it worse by visiting Ryker. I understood why she did it, but I was boiling in rage hearing that she’d stepped into his motel room. I was tempted to go there myself and beat seven shades of shit out of him, but I couldn’t.

I had to wait.

When she came through the door, all of that anger and irrational, predator-like instinct within me just had to fucking know if she’d done something to deceive me. In hindsight, I regretted not trusting her instead. In my heart I knew she wouldn’t have done anything. But years of hearing all the mouths talk, predicting she’d cheat and leave me for him the second he got out, had left me paranoid. Especially when she looked like she wanted to see him when Matt opened his mouth about the news.