Misrule

by Kelly, Kathryn C.

  “My God, you people are all maniacs! Even you, McCall. What happened to your goddamn upbringing?”

  “Not that it is any of your fucking concern, but my father happened. He couldn’t keep his cock in his pants. Now, are you coming or…?”

  “Fine!” Knox snapped. “I don’t feel like getting bruised and battered again.”

  “Does that mean you’ve learned your lesson and will stop challenging Outlaw?”

  “Someone needs to challenge him,” Knox complained, and thought of a tall, muscled brown skinned man with dreadlocks. “And Mortician, for that matter.”

  Instead of answering, Cash started toward a bike a couple of spots down from where they stood.

  Knox stomped behind Cash as the biker mounted and started his Harley. “Hop on.”

  “Where?”

  Cash grinned. “Bitch seat. Tonight, you’re my bitch.”

  He wanted to go to his shitty room and lick his wounds, but the sooner he got this over with, the better. Cursing under his breath, Knox slid on the small second seat and rested his feet on the footrests for each side. He didn’t have biker gear, so it worried him how his Italian loafers and expensive trousers would fair.

  “I hope I don’t regret this,” he said to himself, since the idling Harley pipes were loud and obnoxious.

  Without warning, Cash started off. At the gate, he stopped to use his preprogrammed card to exit. Outlaw once explained that if motherfuckers somehow got on the property without the proper credentials, they wouldn’t be as lucky leaving since authorization was needed to exit too.

  That just proved how fucking stupid Outlaw was. If someone took the trouble of sneaking onto club grounds, they’d probably have an escape route all planned out.

  A block away from the dead-end street, at the stop sign, Cash paused his Harley. No vehicles came in either direction on this main thoroughfare, so it annoyed Knox that Cash remained at the intersection for five minutes before finally taking off by turning right at Mach 1.

  Knox’s boiling anger didn’t allow him to be afraid at Cash’s high rate of speed. Had he still been on the police force, this was exactly the asshole that Knox would’ve ticketed. He was endangering himself and any hapless soul who might’ve been out.

  Knox had only worn a suit jacket, so the cold night cut into him. When Cash turned off from the main street onto a back road, noticeable if one knew where to look and covered by canopies of trees, the darkness swallowed them up and the temperature plummeted by another few degrees.

  Although it galled Knox to admit it, Cash handled the bike with expert ease, not deterred by the bumpiness in some places, or the pitch black, or the howls and cries of night roamers. The zig-zagging and twists and turns confused Knox so much that, by the time they reached a gate similar to the one at the club’s entrance, he was thoroughly lost.

  Once again, Cash halted longer than Knox liked. He was sure wolves and bears and creatures roamed this forest. Not to mention animals of the human variety. Why had he ever agreed to go with Cash? What the fuck had he been thinking?

  He’d been lost in his hurt and anger, but this would stop. Either Roxanne stood up to Mortician or Knox would. They were grown! Mortician couldn’t keep watch over them. He couldn’t keep them separated.

  Unless this was Roxanne’s idea and she was hiding behind the excuse of Mortician’s stupidity. In turn, it led to Knox’s stupidity. He could be in the clubhouse room he’d been exiled to. But, no. He was here. Wherever that happened to be.

  The gate slid open and Cash started off again. They rode along for five or ten minutes more—time was becoming harder to define—before Cash pulled alongside a stream. Once he parked and they were both on their feet, Cash nodded to the darkness ahead.

  “Walk.”

  “Fuck you. I demand you take me back to the club.”

  “As much as I’d like to oblige you, I can’t. Meggie asked for my assistance.” Cash nodded again. “Walk, motherfucker, and don’t stop until I tell you to.”

  “Megan?” Knox asked in outrage. “What the fuck does she want? Fuck her.”

  Cash sighed. “In the interest of time, I won’t take issue with your language. However, in the interest of time, get the fuck to walking. Knocking you the fuck out and dragging you there would defeat the entire fucking purpose and I’d much prefer to be home with Stretch, Fee, and our kids.”

  “Fine, McCall. As long as you know I intend to chew Megan a new asshole for her treatment of me.”

  “I’ll be sure to count your graves, so I’ll have enough markers for each piece of you.”

  Knox glared at Cash.

  “Walk,” the man said, giving no indication he’d seen Knox’s look.

  Of course he hadn’t. Knox couldn’t see his own hand in the pitch-black surroundings.

  Arguing served no purpose with none of these assholes. Even if he had protested, Cash would make light of or ignore Knox’s words altogether. Aware of Cash close behind him, Knox started off. With each step he took, he damned Megan Caldwell to everlasting hell. The soggy ground ruined his shoes and trousers. Expensive clothing wasted on stupidity.

  “If this is some rite of passage, fuck all of you. I’m in excellent shape. I’m not going to fail at your dumb fucking games.”

  “Don’t expect you to,” Cash responded. “Don’t give a fuck if you did.”

  Knox scowled into the darkness, but said nothing more. A chill set into him. The cold air chapped his face, hands, and neck. They wanted to exploit his weaknesses, so he kept his misery to himself.

  Those animal sounds, though…Christ. Haunting and frightening, the noises echoed all around them.

  After an eternity, reflections from outside lamps cast shadows upon the club grounds. As they drew closer to the entrance, the light grew brighter, allowing Knox to see the back façade of Johnnie and Kendall’s house in all its pale stucco splendor.

  Knox halted.

  “Asshole!” Cash complained, crashing into Knox at his unexpected pause.

  “What are we doing here?” Knox demanded, suspicious.

  “To bring you to your execution,” Cash retorted with unnecessary sarcasm.

  “I’m shaking in my loafers,” Knox sneered.

  Unless it was true…?

  According to Johnnie, the cave had been used in the past to hide guns, drugs, and money. Megan had even given birth in it. It wouldn’t be a stretch that they’d use it to sacrifice a poor innocent soul.

  “That’s not fucking funny.”

  Smirking, Cash pulled out his cell phone, typed a message, then pressed send. He waited a minute before the ding came.

  Realization dawned. “You’ve been texting someone?”

  “Stretch,” Cash said on a grunt. A moment later, he was pressing something against Knox’s chest. “You have one fucking hour. Probably less than that because this shit took longer than expected.”

  Knox ignored whatever Cash was trying to hand him. “One hour for what?”

  “You’re a stupid motherfucker, you know that?” Cash snapped in disgust. “It hasn’t dawned on you why all of this subterfuge is necessary?”

  “Because Megan doesn’t want Outlaw to know she’s meeting me?”

  “Jesus Christ.” Cash snorted. “Take this fucking money and walk until you get to Roxanne’s. The guards Mort has stationed there are waiting for you. Give them five hundred a piece.”

  “Roxanne?” Knox echoed with cringe-worthy stupidity. He grabbed the money out of reflex.

  Cash shoved him. “Go.”

  The investigator in him wanted to ask more questions, but, instead, he listened to Cash and continued on toward Mortician’s property line, where Roxanne’s mother-in-law quarters were located. Once he cleared Johnnie’s land, it took another couple of minutes before he came upon the first of Mortician’s guards. The man stopped him immediately.

  “Knox, you got something for me?”

  “Yes,” Knox answered as the man held up a flashlight and shined it
in Knox’s face. He raised the wad of cash, seeing a bundle of hundreds. Knox counted off five and held them out.

  The guard grunted, then whistled and stepped aside. Knox went through this routine two additional times until he came to the last guard who stood watch on Roxanne’s door.

  “If Mort find out, we in a lotta trouble, Knox,” the man said. “But Roxy cook us good meals and Meggie always got her door open to our old ladies. When Roxy tell you to go, don’t ask no questions. Just go.” He held out his hand. “My money please?”

  Please? He didn’t know these men understood the definition of that word. Knox held the last bit of cash out to him. After taking the money, the guard stepped aside, allowing him entrance to Roxanne’s place.

  “I can’t believe I only discovered this recipe,” Megan said to Mort as she poured him another glass of starbursts melted in vanilla vodka.

  “Don’t drink all that, Mort,” Val complained, holding out his glass for Megan to pour him more.

  “Meggie, all this garlic going to make my ass sing all night,” Digger called, adding more deep-fried jalapenos stuffed with cream cheese, shrimp and garlic, onto his plate. “My ass will really be singing, too. Trumpeting. Farts for fucking days. I could probably compose an entire symphony piece.”

  Bunny wrinkled her nose, but smiled at her nasty ass husband.

  “I got to get up early tomorrow,” Digger went on. He stuffed food into his mouth until all the jalapenos were gone, then pushed his empty plate aside and stood. “I think we need to start home. Ready, babe?”

  After exchanging a panicked look with Megan, Bunny smiled at Digger. “Er, babe, I’m going check on the kids.”

  Digger frowned. “But—”

  “I’ll be back soon,” Bunny interrupted.

  “Damn, girl,” Digger said as Bunny hurried the fuck away, “your ass just got back from checking the little motherfuckers. Blame Meggie if my farts nauseate you.”

  Bunny’s laughter trailed behind her but she didn’t stop. Frowning, Digger sat back down.

  “Wait until you try my next snack, Digger.” Megan smiled at Mort. “I have another drink for you to try as well, Mortician.”

  “Meggie, thanks, girl, but I need to get going.” Mort stood. “Something not right. Bailey didn’t even come here. She hasn’t called or anything.”

  Megan opened her mouth to speak, then closed it.

  Her panic and disappointment nearly killed Christopher, so he decided to step in. She was such a fucking novice at scheming.

  “We need to fuckin’ talk business, Mort. All you motherfuckers meet me in my cave.”

  “Tonight, Outlaw?” Val said with disappointment.

  “Ain’t I just fuckin’ say that?” Christopher snapped. “Yo, John Boy, see to it these motherfuckers stay fuckin’ put ‘til after I talk to Megan.”

  Johnnie nodded. Once the guys cleared out, Christopher leaned against the island and grabbed the almost empty bottle of vanilla vodka and starbursts, swirling the contents.

  He stared at Megan. She glowered. He grinned and winked at her.

  “Only fuckin’ reason I ain’t cluein’ Mort the fuck in is cuz I’m so fuckin’ proud of you. You learnin’ so fuckin’ good.”

  Megan pursed her pretty lips. “What are you talking about?”

  “You plannin’ a sneak fuckin’ attack with Roxanne and the rest of the girls.”

  Megan drew her brows together.

  “Ain’t no use fuckin’ denyin’ it, baby. Some fuckin’ kinda way you helpin’ Roxanne get Harrington to her.”

  She flushed, but didn’t answer.

  Draining the bottle, he set it down and walked around to her side of the island, drawing her into his arms. He kissed the top of her head and she melted against him.

  “Lemme see, since mosta the motherfuckers here, except Cash and Stretch, my guess is them motherfuckers helpin’.”

  Silence.

  “My guess is Roxanne ain’t knew of the plan ‘til some fuckin’ time tonight cuz she wouldna volunteered her fuckin’ place, yeah?”

  She nodded.

  Nosing her golden hair, he threaded his fingers through the silken strands, then took her face between his hands and kissed her lips.

  “First, baby? When you fuckin’ schemin’ you gotta take all type of shit into account. Second, Knox the wrong motherfucker to try to help the fuck out. He ain’t gonna fuckin’ appreciate it and he gonna lose valuable fuckin’ time bein’ a fuckin’ dumb ass. My bet instead of fuckin’ askin’ what the fuck goin’ on, he gonna be objectionin’ cuz he think he better than us.”

  “I know Mortician has his reasons, Christopher, but Roxy misses Knox.”

  He kissed her again. Her lips were just too fucking inviting to resist. “I’m sure she do, but, baby, she probably feel Mort right in some ways. Other-fuckin-wise, she woulda been tellin’ him to fuck himself.”

  “Perhaps,” Megan said quietly. “Especially after Knox said all that about money. We almost changed our minds and called the whole thing off.”

  Instead of answering, he bent and covered her mouth with his. She opened so sweetly for him, meeting his tongue with her own and standing on her tiptoes. Lifting her into his arms, he set her on the counter. She wrapped her legs around his waist and she deepened the kiss.

  “I wanna fuck you,” he rasped, his hard cock threatening to burst his zipper.

  “I want you to fuck me,” she breathed.

  He laughed against her mouth, then forced himself to pull his lips away. “The idea for Roxanne to get some dick, baby. You gettin’ mine in a lil while.”

  She stretched and thrust her tits out, tempting him with her hard nipples. “I want to ride you tonight.”

  “After I fuck you hard, Megan,” he told her on a groan. “Right now, baby, I gotta go keep these motherfuckers here.” He licked the shell of her ear and she rewarded him with a little tremble.

  “A couple of hours,” she said on a moan. “Enough time to get Knox to Roxy and then get him back to the club.”

  He thumbed her nipples, kissed her once more, then stepped away from her. “Okay, baby.”

  She licked her swollen lips. Passion darkened her blue eyes and flushed her face. “I’m going to make sandwiches.”

  “Don’t fuckin’ bother, baby. Re-fuckin-lax ‘til I get the fuck upstairs. Ima talk to these motherfuckers.”

  “Okay,” she said, trusting him to handle everything.

  Hopping off the counter, she sashayed to the refrigerator. The swing of her hips made Christopher’s dick hurt he wanted inside of her so bad.

  She hit a panel on the door and pulled up an automated grocery list, one she’d programmed into her new state-of-the-art appliance, and he forced himself to focus on this moment.

  For some fucking reason, Megan had decided she wanted to redo a few rooms in the house.

  “How your new shit workin’?”

  Her face lit up. “OMG, I can’t wait to show you all the refrigerator panel does with just the touch of a few buttons.”

  Christopher smiled at her.

  She rushed to him, grabbed his neck, and pulled him to her, so she could kiss him again. “The bigger range top and built-in ovens allow me to cook so much more at once,” she said after she broke away. “And then the dishwasher…do you know it has a separate drawer for utensils? It’s no longer just a little basket. The convection microwave is fabulous, too! I started thinking that, with all the new appliances, I really should remodel the rest of the kitchen. New cabinets, sink, flooring, and paint. What do you think?”

  “Aintcha doin’ it ass backwards. If you wanted to redo the whole fuckin’ kitchen, you shoulda waited to buy the appliances.”

  Her look thoughtful, she nodded. “You’re right. Besides, this is our hub and it would be out of commission for at least a week.”

  Disappointment shone in her eyes.

  “I was thinkin’, maybe, we need to take the kids to see Mickey fuckin’ Mouse, since CJ love that lil rat so
much.”

  “Mickey’s a mouse. You know? Mickey Mouse.”

  “Still a fuckin’ rodent.”

  “Mice are cute. Rats aren’t. Can you imagine Robert Rat instead of Mickey Mouse? Rats carry all types of diseases. Mice are kept as pets.”

  “Scientists fuck rats the fuck up all the fuckin’ time for experiments. Without them motherfuckers, ain’t no tellin’ where we’d be in the medical field. And motherfuckers keep rats as pets. None of this shit the point. We get a fuckin’ family vacation together. While we gone, motherfuckers come in and redo the kitchen. Problem fuckin’ solved about it not bein’ usable for us.”

  “Omigod, really?” she squealed, the adoration that made him fucking fly dropping into her gaze.

  “Yeah, baby, really.”

  “Deal,” she agreed. The announcement added a spark to her already energetic self.

  He started to turn away.

  “Christopher?” she called, stopping him.

  “Yeah, baby?”

  “I love you so much. You are my everything.”

  “I love you, too, Megan,” he responded. “You my reason for livin’, baby.”

  She gave him her look of love—the one that said everything. Meant everything and told him all he needed to know.

  Smiling softly, she blew him a kiss, then walked away, leaving Christopher alone and thankful that she belonged to him.

  Chapter Eleven

  The house smelled of cinnamon, vanilla, and apples, spicy and warm just like Roxanne. No evidence of their earlier dinner party remained. The chill that had invaded him on the harrowing journey heated immediately. Soft lamplight bathed the living room. The sound of smooth jazz flowed down the staircase, where, at the bottom, red rose petals left a trail that went up. Smiling, Knox followed the petals, noting the small candles situated on every other step. As he reached the landing, the sound of the music grew louder.

  Even before he stepped into the room he shared with Roxanne, he had removed his jacket. He threw it on the empty bed, started unbuttoning his shirt, and glanced in the direction of the bathroom. From beyond the door, gentle splashes, the evocative scent of her bubble bath, captivated him.