Mack skipped the elevator and went to the stairs. He had to get the fuck out of here. It wasn’t until he was down the stairs and out the front hotel doors that he stopped to even breathe.
“Fuck,” he yelled, grabbing both sides of his head. What the hell had he just done?
She’d been a virgin. A fucking virgin. She had no clue what she’d been getting into. But he’d pulled her into it. And then, ordering Liam around, just like he had with B—
Fuck. He slammed the brick wall closest to him with his palm. Several people walking by on the sidewalk jumped and then held their purses tighter once they got a look at him.
Calla had never looked at him like that. She’d never once seemed scared of him. Her eyes had held complete trust. Even when he was taking her fucking virginity.
She’d been an innocent.
Until him.
He shut his eyes and immediately he saw Ben. It was seven years ago and his new cellmate was looking up at him just like Calla had.
Ben was no innocent though. No, Ben’s innocence had been stolen the first night he was in lock up.
“You got me away from him.” Ben had looked at him reverently.
Mack had turned away, not able to take the way the kid was watching him. “It was nothing.” He said it in a tone meant to discourage further conversation.
Ben made an incredulous noise. “Nothing?” Mack could feel him take a step closer even as Ben’s voice dropped to a whisper. “That monster raped me every night, sometimes twice a night, for nineteen months, three weeks, and two days. When I was told I was changing cells, I thought it’d just be more of the same.”
Mack spun around at that. “I’m nothing like that fucker.”
Ben didn’t flinch at Mack’s shout. “I know. I been your cellmate for a week and you ain’t even looked at me sideways.” He took another step closer. “I thought I just got a lucky break. Till I ran into Bone in the yard this afternoon.”
Bone. Mack’s back went rigid at the name. Danny ‘Bone’ Jones. The sadistic fuck who had been Ben’s previous bunkmate.
“He said you must have traded in all your markers to get me reassigned to your cell.”
Mack’s jaw went rigid. “What else did that fucker say?”
“A bunch of other shit, but for the first time in nineteen months, he didn’t lay a finger on me. ‘Cause of you.” Awe was clear in the kid’s voice. “He’s afraid of you.”
“He’s afraid of Pres,” Mack quickly bit out.
“Same thing,” Ben said, and he wasn’t wrong.
Mack had spent the first two years in lock up working out and bulking up until he was the biggest, baddest motherfucker on the block. The President of the Devil’s Spawn MC had noticed. Offered him protection in exchange for pledging.
Considering his only other option were those Aryan motherfuckers, Mack had agreed. He spent every day of the next year enforcing for the Devils. Well, at least he did when he wasn’t in the hole for fighting. No one knew it but he looked forward to his time in solitary. Meant he didn’t mind busting up whatever motherfucker Pres aimed him at. Gained him the nickname Torpedo. Pres pointed and boom, whoever it was wished they’d never gotten in the Devil’s shit.
Mack had never asked for a thing in return. Until last week when he requested Pres make Ben’s transfer. Pres hadn’t even blinked. Even though as vice president, Bone was way higher up than Mack, and Pres had to know that stealing his favorite toy would piss Bone off, he still made it happen. Mack asked for the transfer last Tuesday and by Wednesday night, Ben, skinny, shivering, and eyes full of terror was escorted to his cell.
“What I don’t get is why. You ain’t even looked at me sideways,” he repeated, shaking his head.
“Ever heard the saying don’t look a gift horse in the mouth?”
Ben’s eyebrows furrowed. “Naw, I ain’t heard that.”
“It means just be happy and don’t question shit.”
Ben went quiet at
that. Mack turned toward his bunk and yanked down the ratty blanket.
“You could, ya know.”