Maxwell

 

I had to be honest, I didn’t think Spin would get off. Especially since he was guilty as sin and we all knew it. True, he wasn’t going to go out and hold up a bank or shoot up a school or take hostages. He had a code he lived by, and while that code allowed some illegal things to slide, he at least had principals, which was something a lot of “upstanding good citizens” did not.

 

That being said, there was no question he’d broken the law and not in a little way. But the thing about being on the wrong side of the law was that you tended to accumulate a lot of free cash. Money to put towards things like unscrupulous defense lawyers.

 

I thought his name was McCarthy or something equally Irish like that. Definitely a Mac something. There was a good chance he had connections to the mob and he sure as hell dressed like it, walking around in a very fancy suit that was fucking pinstriped for god’s sake. His hair, which was just shy of a fiery red, was slicked back and he had a smile that was both inviting and dubious. He looked like a wolf or a shark, some predator that was attracted by the distinct smell of blood.

 

He was also the best damn criminal defense money could buy. He didn’t bother asking if Spin was guilty—if you were calling him, you were loaded and definitely guilty—instead focusing on technicalities. “Did they read you your rights?” and, “Did they have a search warrant?” and, “Who was this anonymous source?” The kinds of things that almost seemed so small, so obvious, that they were irrelevant, but Mr. Irish explained it was the details that screwed people, the White Hats and the Black Hats alike. He said it was taxes that fucked Capone and it was the Miranda Rights that saved Ecceles, a mobster who liked barely legal women, American Italian restaurants, and laundering cash through half the bars in Boston. The law was full of loopholes, Mr. Irish claimed, and it was a loophole that was going to save Spin.

 

I was a little skeptical, but when the trial rolled around, Spin was let off. Not for his innocence, of course, but for a little technicality that had to do with private and public property, ownership laws, distribution rights, and having the proper paperwork filled out on the police’s part. I was flabbergasted, but relieved to see Spin as a free man again.

 

Especially since the shit with Martin had gone over a little rough. It wasn’t that Martin had come back. My warning had rung loud and clear with him it had seemed, but that didn’t mean his influence was completely erased. There were guys, our guys, who thought Martin had the right idea. Forget scruples, they thought, go for the gold. Run girls, run hard drugs, kill cops. It didn’t matter to them so long as they got what they wanted—which was a variety of things that ranged from money to pussy to violence. It meant some cleaning house when Spin got out.

 

Things shifted quickly after that. Spin made it clear that whoever was with Martin was against him—and he knew who they were. That made people nervous, even as they scoffed and said he was bluffing, just being a blowhard because he spent a little time in the big house. For the next few months, it seemed like they were right. Spin’s threats had seemed to be nothing more than words, disappearing up in wisps of smoke after a while.

 

Then the bust happened.

 

The Lions had opened a second shop—but not one Spin was in on. They boosted cars and it seemed like they were taking all the business away from our main shop, which was a problem. If we weren’t doing business, we weren’t making money. At least, not in that area. Several guys loyal to Spin were furious about it, but when they brought it to his attention, he merely smiled and nodded his head.

 

“I know, don’t worry about it,” he told them, and they left the office still mad, but also a little befuddled. Spin wasn’t the kind of guy to take anything lying down.

 

Time passed and it seemed like Spin was almost completely out of business. This new Lions shop, which we discovered Martin was running, who had returned, but was keeping down low and out of sight to avoid any retribution from either me or Spin, was picking up cars, chopping them up, and turning out new ones at a ridiculous rate. Every stolen car in the area and in the immediately surrounding area seemed to be linked right back to them.

 

We were doing almost no business at all and when several of the guys bitched about it, Spin calmly told them to relax and take it easy. He had some stuff working right now that needed to get finished first.

 

Finally, the idiots stole the wrong car. Some judge’s wife, complete with tracker and her cell phone. They got busted that night and Martin happened to be there. The whole crew was arrested and there was little question in anyone’s mind whether they were guilty—or whether they’d get off.

 

The trial was swift and definitive. They had tried to hire Mr. Irish, but he refused, saying he had other obligations. I thought that was odd, because Martin was willing to pay and the lawyer didn’t exactly have a problem taking on dirt bag clients. But when I commented on it to Spin, he shrugged his shoulders and said, “I said I would match and add five large to whatever Martin offered him.” After that, I was pretty sure Spin just had him on retainer.

 

Martin and his men were sentenced to twenty-five to life after the cops discovered not only the grand theft crimes, but the drug dealing, as well, not to mention the fire arms. One day I asked Spin if he’d had anything to do with it.

 

“You know I don’t like cops, Maxwell,” he had answered me wryly, but I acknowledged that it wasn’t really an answer. Not an official one. I wasn’t sure how comfortable I was with the concept that maybe Spin had ratted to the police—that was one of those rules in my book—but I didn’t pursue it. Martin was out of the way; Spin wouldn’t do the stupid, dangerous shit that would get us all killed; Nicole was safe. If Spin had a part in that, I would just have to learn to live with it. I couldn’t help but hope he didn’t, though.

 

***

 

Almost seven months after the events that threw Nicole into my arms, I was finally here. The suit felt a little strange, not uncomfortable, but too formal for me. I wore it because I was as good as my word and I wanted this all done right this time.

 

The chapel was decorated moderately. It was one of those places with all the fancy moldings and the stained-glass windows and the statues carved intricately and delicately already, so I didn’t see the point in adding in a bunch of unnecessary crap that would just make it look tacky. Nicole had agreed and I was grateful; it told me she wouldn’t be tacky chic or whatever with the home either.

 

We did have flowers added along the far edges of the pews and towards the front where I stood. And there were some thick fabrics hung deliberately between the pews like the ropes to some exclusive club, but not as tacky. Beyond that, I noticed a cake, a long table with some food and plates, and a few presents. We hadn’t asked for a lot—none of that registry stuff—and most of the guests wouldn’t have had the foggiest idea of what to get us anyway. Probably, there were a lot of envelopes with money on the table, though I didn’t think it was necessary and I was sure Nicole agreed.

 

She was big on the independent thing, not needing outside help, not needing to be “taken care of,” though she had relaxed around me and finally let me in.

 

I fidgeted nervously as I stood at the front on the right side of the aisle. I was looking back, waiting for her to emerge through the door at the other end, but it was killing me to just stand there. I didn’t really think she’d run off or anything, but until I actually saw her, I would be nervous.

 

There was so much that could go wrong, and after what we’d been through, it sometimes still set me on edge.

 

To my left, in a row of suits topped by leather biker jackets with Lions on their backs, were two men. My best men. Mikey, the Lion member who had been willing to take a risk and warn me that Martin was gunning for me, had bothered to comb his usually messy black hair back. It looked greasy but neat. And he wore the tie, though he said he felt like a pussy. And Spin was between him and me. Leader of the Lions and a good man in my book, whatever liberties with the law he might have taken. He looked cool and collected, strangely comfortable and fitting in that suit, where Mikey couldn’t help but look awkward in it.

 

There were guests, too. Not a lot, but enough to fill up several rows of pews. I didn’t have any parents, but a few of the foster kids I’d shared a home with had shown up along with all the Lions—well, the ones who hadn’t belonged to Martin and were now in prison. I even spotted Mr. Irish in the crowd, smiling like the cat that ate the canary, looking so pleased with himself I wondered if he didn’t think he was getting laid tonight.

 

On the other side were friends of Nicole’s. I wasn’t sure if her family was there. Her mother was there, but she was escorting Nicole down the aisle, so I wouldn’t see her for a moment longer. I didn’t think her dad would come and wasn’t sure if Nicole had bothered to invite him anyway. From what I knew of him, the guy was a real piece of work, and it would be better for everyone if he just stayed as far away from this day as possible.

 

Ruins’ girl, Alice, was there, too. She sat towards the back, dressed in a plain dress, maybe one of the few she bothered to own, and had her hair done in a simple braid that stopped just below her shoulders. She looked nice, if a little weary and weathered.

 

I’d had to tell her about Ruins and she’d taken the news hard. For a long time, I’d thought she was dead, that Ruins had warned me off Nicole because he’d failed in his own attempts to keep his love alive. Now I knew better.

 

He had given her up after Martin had threatened her. He’d done the same thing to her as they’d tried to do to Alice and she’d never entirely recovered. It didn’t help her state of mind that Ruins had left her—and the Lions, it turned out—quickly after that. But it did save her life. Martin let her be, because Ruins no longer threatened him.

 

I never forgot the warning Ruins had given me. Nicole was precious and she deserved better than the danger my lifestyle might bring into her life, but at the same time, love bridged a lot of the gaps that might otherwise appear in our lives. I believed in my heart that I could protect her—and I knew the boys, my Lions, would do the same. Spin had become fond of her, and Mikey, though a little skittish, had taken a liking to her, too. The rest didn’t mind her and would follow Spin, so I was confident she would be safe.

 

Besides, Alice had been honest with me the day I told her about Ruins. “I wish he hadn’t put me first. I would have given anything to stay with him for as long as we could have had together. Anything. I wasn’t afraid.”

 

Nicole and I felt the same way. She was an independent woman and I told her of the dangers, but I left the choice up to her. It was the only way to be with Nicole and I understood that a lot better now.

 

She chose me and now here we were.

 

Lost in thought, I almost didn’t notice when we started. It was the music that caught my attention and I watched as two pretty women, bridesmaids, walked down the aisle, one after the other in matching purple dresses. They were done up pretty and I knew them both as friends of Nicole. She had insisted that our lives merge, rather than just picking up the people from mine. I’d agreed whole heartedly and appreciated both Ashley and Kaleigh for their humor and personality.

 

Finally, the music shifted and Nicole came out. Her mother escorted her, an older version of Nicole with hair that was probably blonde from a bottle and way too much makeup, but pretty nonetheless. She wore a plain soft pink dress that was maybe closer to lavender or something, basic so as not to take attention from her daughter.

 

Not that anything in the room could.

 

Her dark hair was long and curled around her shoulders tenderly, caressing her. Her makeup was subtle, accentuating her already perfect features, drawing my attention to her eyes and her lips. My gaze traveled lower along her neck and down her collarbone to her dress, the tight white fabric clinging to her slender waist as it traveled down over her full hips before flaring out at her knees. The dress was cut low and strapless, making a heart shape out of her full, soft breasts and giving me a hard-on that I worked to conceal. Her green eyes flashed and I wondered if she knew I wanted to ravish her in that dress. The sensual smile she sent me told me she did.

 

It felt like it took forever for them to finally get there, but when Nicole reached me I felt something ease in my chest.

 

Her mother handed her over to me, grinning with too puffy lips that had slightly smeared lipstick across them. She was a good woman, but she had a drinking problem and was a little too loose with men in my personal opinion. Still, she had been nothing but good to me and I welcomed any affection from parental figures given my lack of it growing up. She’d welcomed me with open arms, unconditionally, and it made me have a soft spot for her, whatever I might think of her lifestyle.

 

Planting a sloppy kiss on my cheek, she hugged her daughter, then went and took a vacant seat in the front, waving at us like some little kid. But my eyes had already drifted from her to the lovely vision before me. Nicole. The woman who had been so determined to stay away. The woman who, with her stubbornness and independence, had turned me into the kind of man who invited marriage.

 

Nicole, my wife.

 

I took her hands in mine, smiling at her widely, my gaze fixed on her beautiful face, her eyes bright with passion and a love that mirrored my own.

 

The ceremony began. “Do you, Maxwell Lawson, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold…”

 

I didn’t have to hear his words to understand them, I felt them in my heart and soul. And I added some of my own to them. To protect, even when things get dangerous. To fuck, always like it’s the first time. To comfort, but not control. To let you be wild, passionate, independent. To love, until the very last of my days.

 

“I do,” I answered, and when she repeated the same words back to me, we replaced the rings on each other’s fingers and kissed as though it was our first and last kiss all wrapped in one. It probably lasted longer than it should have, my hands clutching at her, holding her against me, grabbing her firm ass in my large palms. There were some wolf whistles from my side and some giggling from hers, but neither of us seemed to notice, or maybe we just didn’t care. By the time we broke the kiss, we were gasping, Nicole’s breasts heaving and her green eyes bright and laced with desire.

 

“Get a room!” someone shouted, and several people laughed, including Nicole’s mother.

 

Smiling wickedly, I swept her up into my arms, her legs slung over one arm and her back pressed against the other. “Best idea I’ve heard all fucking day,” I announced, and several people cheered as I carried her down the aisle to remind her yet again how perfectly our bodies fit together, like they were made for one another.

 

THE END

 

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