Page 2 of Darling Psycho

There was no hesitation when he’d answered: “done.”

That was six days ago.

Six days in which Lawless had felt split down to the bones and sinew, with his guts pouring out onto the floor.

He had very little power for a man who lived by his control.

Benz had thought he’d won, and while he visited Lawless yesterday, he allowed his former lover and mentor to keep thinking so. The man was attractive, cunning and they’d played well together a handful of years ago.

Did it mean Lawless had to be lenient with him because they had a history? Or whatever fondness ordinary people felt? Hell no.

Jay was blackmailing him into being his boy toy/right-hand man.

He could have a King Kong cock and like being choked out during orgasm, and it would still piss Lawless off.

He couldn’t think about Jay yet.

And that’s when he heard the man at his side inhaling the cancer stick. Lawless turned on his feet and started heading toward the door. Dreyers got in step with him.

Two hours and counting.

He needed the stink of the place off his skin. It felt as though it was embedded in areas he couldn’t scrub.

“Looking forward to getting out?”

Did the guy think Lawless would miss the place? That he’d choose to stay longer for the shits and giggles?

Not in a million years would he want to be in prison.

It had been his version of Hell being locked up all day long like a dog in a cage.

“You sure as shit made this place different.”

“I can’t stay just to brighten your day, Dillion,” he quipped and made the other man laugh.

“What will you do now?”

“Go back to my life.”

Maybe do a little murdering. Who knows? He’d been without his tools for a long time; he needed some fun.

Lawless looked at the world through eyes that had seen too much. It was predator energy that motivated him.

He liked simple things.

Expensive things.

And things that an average joe would pray on his knees to his Lord and Savior over.

The man at Lawless’ side had a lean body underneath the gaudy uniform, and he was easily manipulated.

If he wanted to, he could probably demand Dillion Dreyers take him to a secluded closet for a farewell fumble.

But Lawless wasn’t interested in him, and once they were back inside, he offered a hand, and Dreyers shook it. “Your wife still trying to talk you into getting a cat?”

Dreyers groaned. “She’ll win; she always wins.”

“Get her two, they don’t like to be alone.”