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Take Me, Outlaw

By:Zoey Parker

Chapter 1


Most people would probably figure that the average guy in prison would be goddamn delighted when his last day comes up and he's just a few hours away from walking out the front gates. After all, that'd make plenty of sense.

Too bad I wasn't the average guy.

Oh, I wanted to leave, for sure. I couldn't wait to take off that itchy fucking prison uniform, slip into my real clothes, and turn my back on that scumhole once and for all. Especially after a seven-year sentence for drug trafficking, when the shit the cops found on me wasn't even mine.

I was no saint, and I'd run plenty of pot and E from Indiana to Chicago with my club, the War Reapers. But when the cops came banging on my door at three in the morning with a search warrant, opened my closet, and found two kilos of coke I'd never seen before, I knew I was truly fucked and my MC wouldn't be able to do much about it except see me on visiting days.

And I knew just who had fucked me, too, and why. That was the hell of it.

Jester, I thought, when I get out of here, I'm gonna find you and bash your skull in with a fucking wrench. I don't even give a shit if I get caught and end up back in here. At least this time, I'll have earned it.

Sam Gismondi was a powerful enforcer for the Mancuso crime family. They'd been the second-largest outfit in Chicago after the Bonaccorsos. Sam had earned the nickname “Jester” after he'd posed as a clown to get into a birthday party for the son of a rival gang, then slaughtered everyone there with an Uzi. He was known for being fast on the draw and savagely hardcore, not to mention the kind of dangerously insane that's reserved for guys who kill people while wearing clown makeup.

The Reapers never did any business with the Mancusos directly, but Jester's niece Abby started hanging around the Devil's Nest, which was the Reapers' base of operations. Abby was in her early twenties and hotter than hell. She started coming on strong from the moment she saw me, wearing barely-there outfits and sitting on my lap so she could wriggle her tight little ass against my crotch. I laughed it off at first, but when I actually started talking with her, it turned out that she was smart and funny, too.

When Bard, the President of the Reapers, found out that I liked Abby as more than just a hot piece of ass, he warned me to play it slow and cool to make sure Jester didn't feel like we were disrespecting him. So I mostly acted like a gentleman, and for over three months, Abby and I were in a legit relationship. Having Jester around all the time when I hung out with her was kind of creepy, but at least he acted friendly to me, even if he always had a dark look in his eyes that said, “If you hurt my niece, I'll stuff you in a fucking blender.”

I don't really remember when I first realized there was something wrong with Abby. Maybe it was the way she lost her temper with the servers whenever we'd go out to eat, bossing them around and insulting them. Maybe it was the phone calls I overheard with her parents, when she sounded spoiled and demanding at best, manipulative and borderline-psychotic at worst.

It got so bad that I felt like I was dating someone with Multiple Personality Disorder. Even when she was acting all cute and cuddly in bed with me, all I could think about was that ugly side of her. I wondered when she'd finally end up turning on me, like a pit bull that's fine one minute and shredding some kid's face off the next.

When Abby surprised me by getting my name tattooed on her left tit, I knew I had to break it off with her. I tried to take the blame by telling her I just wasn't ready for a commitment and blah blah blah, but she refused to hear it. She kept shrieking and cursing at me for a solid hour, calling me every name she could think of before she stormed out and slammed the door. It was a rough scene, but at least it was over.

Or anyway, that's what I thought.

Then came the phone calls. Sometimes she'd hang up as soon as I picked up. Sometimes she'd cry and beg me to take her back. Sometimes she'd scream at me, saying I was a “fag” for not wanting her back and threatening to cut my dick off. When I screened the calls, they'd get more frequent, until my phone was ringing nonstop for hours at a time. When I changed my phone number, she somehow got the new one. I told myself that crazy people have short attention spans, and she'd lose interest after a while.

Then Boomer, one of the other Reapers, told me he'd heard a nasty rumor. Word was going around that Abby had showed up at Jester's house, covered in bruises and swearing that I'd beaten her up and raped her.

Part of me was fucking horrified, while the other part felt pretty goddamn stupid for not seeing this coming.

Jester knew he couldn't come at me directly without starting a war between the Reapers and the Mancusos. He didn't have a lot of connections on the police force, but he didn't really need that many. Just enough to plant a fuckload of coke in my place and haul me in for it. He even paid off the judge to make sure I wasn't sent to Joliet, where there'd be other Reapers inside to watch my back. No, I got sent to Potawatomi Correctional Center where there wasn't a biker in sight.

So, yeah. Seven fucking years. During which time I'd managed to survive four attempts on my life. All of them had been ordered by Jester, but the hacks couldn't prove fuck-all on that score and life just went on. I definitely couldn't wait to be out of there, and finally, my last day had come.

I was thrilled about that.

I just wasn't thrilled about the fact that it was still three hours away.

A lot can happen in prison in three hours. And I knew that Jester wasn't just going to shrug and say we were even.

Clyde walked up to my cell, smacking the bars lightly with his baton. He was one of the few guards who wasn't a completely corrupt son of a bitch, and we'd generally gotten along okay. “Shower time, Logan,” he said, grinning. “Grab your towel and come on.”

“Nah, I think I'm good without,” I said, sniffing under my arms and shrugging. “I mean, yeah, there's a smell, but I like to think it's kind of manly, y'know? Musky, even. I'm thinking the chicks out there might really dig it. Thanks, though.”

Clyde raised his eyebrows. The smile on his lips went cold as he made a show of looking at his watch. “Gee, Logan, did I just hear you try to make a decision about when you take a shower? 'Cause that's something free people do, and it looks to me like you've got two hours and fifty-two minutes before you can call yourself free. So get your towel and get your ass in gear, because if I have to tell you twice, you'll be dragging two busted legs behind you when you leave this place.”

Fuck. Well, it was worth a shot. May as well get this over with and give them one last chance to shiv me.

I grabbed my towel and followed Clyde down the hall toward the shower room. The only other person inside was a slope-shouldered little sad sack named Jeff Carp, who was doing eighteen months for petty theft. He was short and bony and he had no friends inside, which meant he'd already been attacked a handful of times. Even the Aryans wouldn't take Carp once word got around that he was half-Jewish.

So far, so good. Jester wouldn't send this weak-ass cumstain to punch my ticket.

I peeled off my clothes and stepped under the hot water, soaping up my crotch as I thought about all the things I wanted to do when I got out—especially the things I wanted to do to Jester. As I did, I felt Carp's eyes on me and turned to look at him. His eyes were the size of dinner plates and he was shaking with fright. His back was pressed against the tiled wall.

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, for Christ's sake, Carp! I'm here to clean my dick, not get your shit on it! Now finish washing up and fuck off!”

Carp turned away from me, quickly running the soap over his chest and shoulders.

Paranoid little shithead, I thought. As if I ever fucked a dude while I was in here, or anywhere else, for that matter.

Still, if I was Carp's size and I'd been pushed around in here as much as he had, I figured I'd be pretty squirrelly too. I almost felt sorry for him. It wasn't like he could just put a beat-down on some badass inmate to get a rep for himself in here like the rest of us could. That guaranteed he'd be a target from now until the day he left Potawatomi, if he even lived that long.

Suddenly, I saw a pair of large shadows fall across the wall in front of me. I knew who was standing behind me even before I turned around. Burger and Roach had each tried to shiv me individually, and I'd handed them their asses for their trouble. It made sense for them to team up and try to finish the job on my last day.

It just wouldn't do them any good.

I turned to look at them as Carp kept scrubbing himself frantically. Whatever was about to happen, Carp was desperate to be away from it, especially since Roach had already tried to do him in the showers at least once.

“This is so sweet,” I said. “You guys here to throw me a goodbye party?”

“Something like that,” Burger sneered. Both of them were carrying towels, and as they moved them aside, I saw that they were also carrying shivs.

“Okay, so you brought presents, clearly,” I said, pointing to the blades. “That's nice. But fellas, come on...where's the cake? I mean, it's not a party unless there's cake.”

“You survived. All these years. Jester is disappointed,” Roach drawled, shaking his head sadly. Both of them were slowly edging closer to me. Next to me, Carp squeaked with fear and jittered under the water, trying to brush the soap bubbles off his body.