MACK

 

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.

“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.”

“Could what?” Mack looked over his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t mind if ya… ya know.” Ben’s head lowered but he kept his eyes on Mack. “If ya wanted somethin’ in return. Like I said, I’m real grateful. I can tell you’s a different sort than Bone. I wouldn’t mind it if ya wanted to—”

“I don’t.” Mack’s voice was sharp.

But over the next weeks and into the second month, Ben didn’t let up. He’d take any opportunity to touch Mack he could. He stayed right on Mack’s heels whenever they left the cell. Tried to give him half his food every day.

“Everyone already thinks you’re husbanding me,” Ben said one night, sitting on the edge of Mack’s bunk.

“Well I’m fucking not,” Mack bit out, not much passion behind it. He was tired. So goddamned tired of all of it.

“I wish you was,” Ben’s voice sounded wistful and Mack glared at him.

“Plenty folks go wolf when they’re inside. Don’t mean you’re gay or nothin’. Just that you got needs.” His voice dropped even quieter. “Everybody got needs. Even you. I hear you at night taking yourself in hand when you don’t think anyone else’s awake.”

“Get the fuck off my bed,” Mack said, shooting to his feet.

It was already lights out but he could see by the dim glow from beyond the cell when Ben dropped to his knees in front of him.

Mack shoved him so hard he toppled backwards, head cracking on the concrete.

Shit. He hadn’t meant to hurt Ben.

He stopped himself right before he could apologize. Maybe Ben would finally get the fucking message.

Still, Mack listened anxiously and only breathed out in relief when he heard Ben shuffling across the floor to his own bed.

He thought it would be done then. He’d made his position more than clear.

So when he jolted awake in the middle of the night to a hot mouth sucking his cock, Mack assumed he was still dreaming.

He pumped his hips back and forth because fuck, it was one good dream. Brianna had come and begged for forgiveness. She’d even bribed the prison officials in order to get a conjugal visit to show him just how sorry she was.

Mack reached a hand down toward his cock. And his hand landed on a head that wasn’t fucking Brianna’s.

As soon as he realized that, shit, he was awake, and double shit, Ben was giving him a blow job, he jerked his hips back. He had to grit his teeth against the pleasure firing down his spine when there was an audible pop as he came out of Ben’s mouth.

“Get the fuck off me,” Mack growled. He was about to reach down and shove him off when Ben said six words that had Mack freezing.

“You was Bone’s before I was.”

“Shut up,” Mack hissed. He grabbed Ben’s shoulders and took him to the floor in a headlock. “Don’t you ever fucking say that again.”

“It’s true though, ain’t it?” Ben gasped, hands going to Mack’s arm at his throat. “You was his for two years. I hear you shoutin’ in your sleep. You’re still there back in his cell. In your head. I know ‘cause I am too.” Ben’s voice got high and thin, like he was just holding back tears. “He tried to break ya but he can’t. You’re too strong to ever break.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Mack gripped Ben’s throat even tighter. Anything to shut the fucker up.

“I do,” Ben wheezed. “And more than anything I wanna help you.” Ben stopped struggling underneath him. “Help… us… both.”

Mack dropped him and moved away, backing into the wall.

Ben didn’t say anything else. The sound of him gasping, trying to get his air back, echoed around the cell.

“Fuck,” Mack whispered, kicking the wall. Which hurt like a bitch. Everything fucking hurt. All the fucking time.

Because goddammit, Ben was right. No matter how long he was free of Bone. Some part of him would always be locked in that cell with the sadistic motherfucker.

Two and a half years. Every night. No matter how big Mack got. No matter how hard he fought. Every night.

Till one day he stopped fighting. He’d barricade himself inside his head and let Bone do what he was going to do.

Two weeks after that, he was transferred to cell block D where the Pres and most of the Devil’s lived. At first he thought it was because he’d finally proved himself. Things had been heating up between the Devils and the Mexican Mafia. Mack took every opportunity to back the Devils, trying to show how useful he could be.

Then he saw the young guy shrinking and following at Bone’s heels. Ben. Poor bastard hadn’t even turned twenty yet. The large black eye and way he walked with a limp told Mack everything he needed to know.

Mack hadn’t gotten moved to D block because he’d proved he was worth something to the Devils. Bone had just gotten tired of him and replaced him.

Not two weeks after he’d stopped fighting back.

Mack had barely made it to the trashcan to puke up the entire contents of his stomach. He hadn’t known which was worse—knowing he could have gotten out from under Bone months, maybe even years earlier if only he hadn’t fought him every night. Or how fucking happy Mack was that it wasn’t him locked in a cell with the monster anymore. Even though the only reason Mack was free was because some other poor fuck had taken his place.

Every day he saw Ben for the next year and a half, the guilt ate at him. Till he finally made his play to get him free of Bone. Knowing even as he did it that Bone would just start up again with some other kid. Fresh meat arrived each week.

But it wouldn’t be him. And it wouldn’t be Ben anymore.

“Please,” Ben cried in the dark. “I need you. He made me— and I can’t—” Ben’s voice kept breaking off with sobs. “You saved me. You’re all I can think about. Just pretend I’m a girl. One hole’s as good as another. Please. I’ll make it good for you. I love—”

Before he could finish that fucking sentence, Mack went for him. He lifted him up off the floor and then shoved him face down into his bunk. “You want it?” he asked furiously.

“Yes,” Ben cried. “I need it. I need you.” Ben’s hand reached for him again but Mack knocked it out of the way.

Then he yanked Ben’s pants down, spit on his hand, rubbed it over his cock, and shoved home up Ben’s ass.

And just look how that had turned out. Just like all those years ago, Mack kicked the wall. And just like all those years ago, pain spiked through his foot. He didn’t fucking care. Mack kicked the wall again.

People walking by jumped back and scattered. The hotel wasn’t downtown, but there were still a few restaurants around.

“Fuck!” Mack shouted, kicking the wall one last time. That was when he saw a couple cell phones come out, their bright screens illuminated. Shit. Just his luck they were calling the cops. The last thing Mack needed was to get in trouble with the fucking law.

So he turned and limped as fast as he could down the sidewalk, hopefully in the direction of a fucking bar.