Misrule

by Kelly, Kathryn C.

  The words stunned Knox into silence. Roxanne afraid? That seemed incomprehensible. She was the bravest, most fearless woman he’d ever met. He’d admired her courage, her wit, her beauty. Her. “She neither wants nor needs my protection, and I’ll thank you to stop trying to turn my fiancée into a simpering mass of nerves. That’s not Roxanne. By the way, if I didn’t want her, I wouldn’t have asked her to marry me. And, in case you’ve forgotten, marriage doesn’t mean anything. I can still walk away from her.”

  “You got a lot more to lose if you leave after the wedding.”

  “Nothing but my dignity if it comes to that. I’m having Roxanne sign a prenuptial agreement.” He hadn’t considered that before, although he knew his parents would expect it of him, to protect the Harrington interests. Listening to Mortician, however, and seeing a future filled with interference led to Knox’s conclusion that a prenup was needed. He’d stick it out with Roxanne as long as possible. When he had enough of the violent barbarians she insisted on cavorting with, he’d walk away. “A prenup is a requirement in my circles.”

  “You signing one for her?”

  “What does she have that I’d want?” The moment the words left his mouth, Knox regretted them.

  Mortician’s growl didn’t help.

  Backing away, Knox raised his hands in surrender. “That came out wrong. I meant she doesn’t have any assets to protect like I do.”

  Mortician grabbed Knox by the collar and lifted him off his feet, without much effort. “You not ruining her wedding, her happiness, with no mention of a prenup. Understand?”

  Knox tightened his jaw. It wasn’t any of Mortician’s business. Besides, it was because of him Knox felt the need for the legal document.

  “Do. You. Understand?” Mortician snarled, shaking Knox like a rag doll with each succinct word he spoke.

  “Do you understand?” Knox finally shouted. “I guess you don’t know what it means to have so much at stake, but I have a lot to lose if this marriage fails.”

  “You shouldn’t open your fucking mouth about things you don’t fucking know. Especially about me.”

  Mortician set Knox on his feet and thrust his face forward. They were almost nose-to-nose, but the biker was several inches taller than Knox and the fulminating looks and threatening posture worked.

  “Would you have a house without insurance?” Knox asked in even tones. “It doesn’t mean your house will be destroyed. It just means it is protected in the event something does happen. That’s the only reason I intend to ask her to sign a prenup.”

  “Whatever your goddamn reason, it’s bullshit.” He shook his head and released a humorless laugh. “I don’t have to worry, Knox. Lay that shit down to Roxanne and you won’t have a wedding.”

  “I doubt that. She loves me. Unlike you, she’ll understand my reasoning.”

  “Want to make a fucking bet?”

  Knox brushed off the sleeves of his jacket. “No, I don’t. Everything you’ve said is a crock of shit. Roxanne never told me she was afraid of our relationship failing. Besides, she’s tougher than that.”

  “Tough on the outside, soft on the inside,” Mortician corrected. “And she didn’t have to tell you. Why would she, motherfucker? That’s what women got other women for. If Bailey say her momma scared, then she scared. Think. You ever know Roxanne to get ass-hurt over whatever silly argument happened at the ball and hold a grudge three fucking days?”

  Refusing to admit how much sense Mortician made, Knox gave him a sour look. He’d address this with Roxanne. He wouldn’t stand here, in the cold, talking to a man who had no perception of what was at stake and no real understanding of Roxanne. He changed the subject. “If you and Bailey still want to renew your vows and make it a double ceremony, you’re welcomed to do so.”

  He puffed out his chest, silently showing Mortician who was in control of this situation.

  A muscle ticked in Mortician’s jaw. Instead of commenting, he stared at Knox for one long, intimidating moment.

  Knox scowled. “Do you still want a double ceremony or not?”

  “I’ll talk to Bailey,” he said grudgingly, then relented and sighed. “I lost my momma when I was a kid. I never got to see her happy, Knox. My father was a motherfucker who made her cry all the time. That’s not happening with Roxanne. I don’t give a fuck what you or she says. You not living under her roof and you not sleeping with her until you marry her. Without a fucking prenup. After the wedding, if you fuck up and divorce, she’ll be a rich woman and I’ll have no choice but to de-cock you, shove it in your mouth, then cut your fucking head off.”

  “What is wrong with you people? Johnnie threatened me with the meatshack and draining my blood. Now, you’re threatening me with castration and decapitation.”

  Mortician grinned. “Don’t fuck with John Boy. He like torture. He’ll use a few steel straws to puncture you with and talk to you as you bleed out.”

  “Johnnie? College-educated, suit-wearing, Johnnie? You’re a liar.”

  “Appearances deceiving, Knox,” Mortician said with a glare. “Don’t get on Johnnie bad side. No bullshitting.”

  “I’ll remember that.” Knox didn’t believe for a minute that Johnnie enjoyed torture and murder. Maybe, at first, he’d thought so. But since he’d gotten to know Johnnie more, the man had never shown anything but a light-hearted, classy side. Even when he was in his cut. “It’s time for me to stop bullshitting with you, Mortician. I’m not adhering to your stupid no-sex, no living-together rule, and neither is Roxanne. She wants to appease you, but she makes up her own mind. I’m going to be with Roxanne before the wedding. We’re grownups. We don’t need your permission to do anything. Who the hell do you people think you are? Outlaw with his dictator complex, giving my woman a goddamn tacky, purple, Navigator. It reeks of classlessness…Now, this? Fuck you. Roxanne’s visiting me tonight and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  The cold look Mortician gave Knox chilled him, but if he allowed himself to be intimidated, he’d never have a chance with them. Until now, he and Mortician had been on good terms.

  “What are you going to do about that?” he taunted. “Neither me nor Roxanne will allow you to use your need for a momma to carry out this ridiculous bullshit. It’s pathetic to think you can substitute Roxanne for a dead woman who didn’t have the sense to leave her husband and make a good life for herself.”

  Mortician’s punch to Knox’s Outlaw-abused jaw would’ve knocked him to the ground, if the enforcer hadn’t grabbed his hair and land a few more punches on various places of Knox’s body. Just as he released him, he landed a blow to Knox’s stomach.

  Moaning and choking, Knox rolled on the ground.

  Mortician crouched next to him. “Don’t talk about my dead momma. In my eyes, the woman next to a saint and you defile her with your fucked-up words. Roxanne like a substitute momma to me, to all us. More than that, she Bailey momma and they adore each other. You fucking lucky I liked you enough to let you be her boyfriend, instead of disappearing your fucking ass by running you through a goddamn wood chipper. Deep in your heart, you don’t think she worthy of you, because of us. You think you doing her a favor by marrying her.”

  “I-I don’t,” Knox gasped. “I swear. I-I love her. I swear,” he said, close to tears from the pain.

  “Roxanne a good woman, Knox. Bailey close to her momma. She scared, too. Know why? She think you going to take Roxanne and move her away, just to get her away from us. I’ll fucking kill you if you hurt Bailey like that. That’s part of my reason for doing this, but mostly, it’s because of Roxanne. If you don’t accept us, really fucking accept us, you’ll never truly accept her. You staying at the fucking clubhouse. We going to teach you about who we really are. You keeping your cock to yourself. You going to show Roxanne you can’t live without her, not sex, not her cooking. Her, motherfucker.”

  Despite his pain, Knox raised his head and glared at Mortician. He was his soon-to-be son-in-law? The man with the ‘all-
mothers-are-chaste-and-in-need-of-protection’ complex?

  Standing, Mortician loomed over Knox, muscles bulging, eyes angry…Motorcycle boots near Knox’s head.

  Into the tense silence, Knox’s cell phone rang. He forced himself to a sitting position, moaning and grunting and cursing Mortician to high hell, and grabbed his phone out of his pocket. He scowled at the familiar number.

  “Yes, Outlaw?” he answered, irritated.

  “Johnnie at the club, talkin’ about a meetin’ Kendall had with Emily Riser.”

  “Is the name Emily Riser supposed to mean something to me?”

  “Yeah! She the bitch got psycho cunt hatin’ on Megan.”

  Jesus Christ! These people!

  Knox rubbed his hurting forehead. “What about her?” he asked, as if Outlaw’s explanation made a difference.

  “She in Portland. Contact her and set up a meetin’ where her and Johnnie meet some kinda way. If she look so much like Megan, then that should fuckin’ nudge him another fuckin’ step away from Kendall.”

  Although he liked the sound of Kendall being one step closer to being gone for good, Knox couldn’t believe Outlaw’s audacity. “That plan is pretty fucked up. You’re basically owning the fact that Johnnie wants Megan and using that to come between him and Kendall.”

  “Yeah,” Outlaw said without remorse. “So? One way or a-fucking-nother, Ima make sure Kendall have her day of reckonin’. Now, do what the fuck I told you to do and shut the fuck up.”

  The call disconnected.

  Cursing in frustration, Knox got to his feet. His body hurt, but he’d survive. Seeing Mortician standing a short distance away, Knox limped to him, just as the enforcer was ending a call.

  “Shit covered,” Mortician announced.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Guards going to be posted at night by Roxanne and in front of your door at the club. She try and sneak by you or vice versa, she’ll be stopped and you’ll be detained, then I’ll be called to deal with the situation.”

  Mortician smirked at him, then turned on his heel and started off, whistling a merry little tune.

  The entire way back to the club Knox wished a painful death upon Mortician’s head.

  Chapter Nine

  With Kendall away, Johnnie declined to take his turn to host a family dinner, so it was moved to Roxy’s house, three days later. With all of the big bikers in her small, open space, it looked overcrowded. Bunny, Bailey, and Roxy sat on the sofa, eating their meal of stewed chicken, boiled rice, and steamed carrots. Johnnie sat in one wing chair while Zoann sat in another. Outlaw was stretched out on his side in the middle of the floor, eating casually, as Meggie leaned against him, also eating. Digger sat at the bar, already on his second plate, while Knox stood behind it. He’d refused to eat, claiming he wasn’t hungry. Mortician sat on the floor, on the side of the sofa, near Bailey. Val lounged against the wall, eating with contentment. He’d already put it out there that he wanted some of Roxy’s pecan pie and hoped she’d made one or two.

  She had, but she kept that information to herself. Like a big child, he’d put his food aside and go straight for the sweets.

  She leaned back, contented. It had been a very productive day. The only blight—the thing that pissed her off the most—was having last night’s plans to visit Knox thwarted.

  Mortician, the motherfucker, was too suspicious for his own good. How the fuck did he know to post guards? She’d argued. When that didn’t work, she’d brought her ass back inside, deciding she needed a firm plan to outsmart her misguided son-in-law.

  The door opened, and Diesel walked in, carrying a handful of empty paper plates. He was in the garage with the kids, where there was TV, video games, central heat, and all types of toys.

  Diesel was a sweet kid, with sad gray eyes, and black hair. He’d filled out since Outlaw had rescued him from the streets. They’d miss him when he left for college, if he left. He might choose some place nearby. He’d told Roxy he didn’t want to leave Outlaw and Meggie, fearing they’d get used to him not being there and decide he was no longer a part of the family.

  Roxy knew that wouldn’t happen, but he just had to see for himself.

  He loped to the trash can, threw out his load, then went to the refrigerator, and pulled out two packs of juice boxes. With a grin, he headed back out and closed the door behind him.

  Knox poured a Scotch for himself, then held up the glass. “Anyone care for a drink?”

  What a mighty fine man he was, with eyes that reminded Roxy of sparkling amber, a chiseled jaw, slim waist, and a fine ass that was quite squeezable as they made love.

  He sipped from his glass, his gaze never leaving hers, lit with promises and innuendoes.

  Licking her lips, Roxy patted her hair. Tonight, she didn’t wear a wig. At their family dinners, she usually went without. Still, her hair had grown even longer, which she was so happy about, considering one of the side effects of Tamoxifen was hair loss.

  “Drinks, anyone?” Knox asked again, after another heated look at her.

  Johnnie lifted his glass of Scotch. “We still have what we were given before we started eating.”

  “All right.” Knox sipped, then cleared his throat. “Everyone, may I have your attention?”

  The low conversations going on amongst everyone stopped as the group quieted.

  “Thank you.”

  Knox was so proper and polite. She loved that about him. She loved how they made their differences work. Sometimes, though, doubts crept into her. Roxy would shove them away and remind herself that Knox loved her, so much so he hadn’t even asked her for a prenup.

  He probably knew that would be a deal breaker.

  “Roxanne and Bailey have set a date for the dual ceremonies,” Knox announced. “August of this year. On the sixth.”

  Digger licked his fingers. “That’s months away.”

  “Glad to know you can fucking count,” Mortician joked around a mouthful of food.

  In response, Digger opened his mouth to reveal the half-chewed contents.

  “Nasty motherfucker,” Roxy complained. “Do that shit again and your ass is barred from eating in my house.”

  “Aww, Roxanne, I didn’t mean no harm,” Digger complained.

  “Not to her,” Mortician pointed out. “You wanted to turn my fucking stomach so I wouldn’t eat the rest of the week.”

  “More for my ass, then,” Digger retorted.

  “That’s where the fuck all that food goin’,” Outlaw said with a snicker. “Straight to your fuckin’ big ass.”

  “Bruh, that’s fucking cold,” Digger said, pointing a chicken bone in Outlaw’s direction.

  “Excuse me!” Knox inserted, his smile thin. “As much as I’m enjoying this banter, we want to settle a few things about the wedding.”

  “Yeah, Digger. That mean shut the fuck up,” Mortician ordered.

  Digger started to say something, but Roxy stood and clapped her hands as a teacher would, to restore order. “Enough, boys!” she called. “Show some manners.”

  Digger gave her an under-eyed look. “What that mean?”

  “Nothing you would know about, since you never had any class,” Val put in with a snigger.

  If she didn’t forge on, shit would get out of hand, so before anybody else made a comment, Roxy looked at Outlaw.

  “Mortician is going to be a groom that day, Outlaw,” she started, suddenly nervous. She was having a big wedding where she needed to be given away. At her age. Maybe, asking to be escorted down the aisle was just too fucking much. She could walk her own ass up to the altar. Only Bailey needed to be given away. Ignoring her silly disappointment, she waved her hand and sat back down between Bailey and Bunny. “Don’t worry about it, sugar. It was just a stupid idea I had.”

  “It isn’t stupid, Mama!” Bailey cried, turning to Outlaw. “Mama wants you to give her away.”

  Instead of answering, Outlaw glared at Roxy. She kept a smile pasted on her face, but his r
eaction poured even more embarrassment into her. She’d grin and bear his words since she was the one who’d started this.

  “I gotta put a fuckin’ monkey suit on to give your fuckin’ ass the fuck away, Roxanne?”

  She sagged in relief and expelled a breath. This was only a discussion and she was nervous. How would she be on her wedding day?

  Meggie elbowed Outlaw. “You have to wear whatever the bridal party wears, Christopher.”

  “I ain’t accepted yet, Megan. Not ‘til my question answered.”

  “It’s going to be a formal wedding,” Bailey acknowledged, “so, yes, a tuxedo will be required.”

  Outlaw glowered between Roxy and Bailey.

  “Sugar, it’s fine,” Roxy said with a laugh, hoping she hid her disappointment. “I don’t need a motherfucker walking me down the aisle. Johnnie, since Bailey asked on my behalf, I’ll ask on hers. Will you walk her down the aisle?”

  “Roxanne, babe, how fuckin’ important it be that I walk your fuckin’ ass down the aisle?” Outlaw asked before Johnnie responded.

  “She said not to worry about it,” Knox said coolly. “You’ve made your feelings known, so we’re moving on.”

  “I ain’t talkin’ to you, motherfucker,” Outlaw snapped, “so shut the fuck up ‘til I do.” He looked at Roxy again. “You really wanna be walked down the aisle, yeah?”

  She gave Outlaw a smile that she hoped covered up all the emotions running through her but decided to answer honestly. “I do, sugar.”

  He huffed out a breath. “Fuck, fine,” he grouched. “If the shit that important to your fuckin’ ass, I’ll walk you down the fuckin’ aisle.”

  “Thank you, sugar.” Roxy decided not to say anything else. Knox didn’t look pleased. Before this sudden turn spiraled into an argument, she let it go.