Misrule

by Kelly, Kathryn C.

  “To get to the root of your problem, we have to dig deep, Kendall.”

  Nodding, Kendall rung her hands together. “When my father died, my entire world changed.” In low tones, she explained how her mother had lost her mind—literally—and ended up in an insane asylum. Her father had adored her, but she’d figured out early that her mother didn’t want her or like her. She’d sought her mother’s approval for years, even after her little sister, Caroline, had been born. “When Caro hanged herself, Mother preferred to die, too. She shot herself in the head, sitting a few feet away from me.”

  The image of the blood streaming from Marie’s head replayed in Kendall’s head. She sniffled. After typing a moment, Dr. Briscow handed Kendall a box of tissues.

  Dabbing at her eyes, Kendall twist her wedding ring. It—Johnnie—was the reason she’d sought a new psychiatrist. She was so afraid, she’d lose her husband, whom she truly loved. She just couldn’t seem to stop herself from ruining her life.

  “My childhood was lonely,” she finished. “Deprived of love. My mother was a very strict disciplinarian, though she withheld her affection.”

  Dr. Briscow continued typing her notes. “Do you withhold affection from your children?”

  Kendall opened her mouth to answer with a definitive NO! She couldn’t get the word out, though, recalling Rory’s little face during the times she’d forced him to sit at the table to finish his meals. That practice had ended because of Johnnie. She’d barred Rory from wearing jeans and demanded he call her and Johnnie by their first names. As if she wanted to disassociate herself from being a parent. She didn’t allow any of her children in certain rooms in her house, but it had been her first born, Rory, who had gotten the brunt of her…her mistreatment.

  “Yes,” she answered, shame ringing in her voice. “I-I thought I was raising Rory to be…”

  “To be?” Dr. Briscow pushed when Kendall couldn’t find the words to continue.

  “Not to be,” Kendall corrected. “Not to be a biker. Not to be like his cousin, CJ, or his uncle, Christopher. I wanted my son—all three of my children—to be better. But it came out as resentment and hostility toward Rory.”

  “I see.” Dr. Briscow tapped on her keyboard. “Have you ever beat your children?”

  “I’ve disciplined Rory when he was bad. I’ve spanked him.”

  “And your other children.”

  “Matilda is a little girl and JJ is too young.”

  “You’ve never abused your children or any minor in your care.”

  Kendall thought of CJ, but quickly pushed the incident with him out of her mind. He hadn’t been in her care. Besides, what he needed went beyond disciplining. That boy was out of hand.

  “You have to be honest with me about everything,” Dr. Briscow chided, as if she knew Kendall withheld information. “You’re wasting my time and your own if you don’t be completely open with me.” She gave Kendall a knowing look.

  Shifting in her seat, Kendall nodded. “I understand, Dr. Briscow.”

  The woman waited a moment longer, but Kendall refused to budge. “I promise I will never lie to you, doctor,” she swore. “I want help. I want my life back. My husband. My family.”

  “I understand,” Dr. Briscow said. “I will get to the bottom of your problems. As long as I have your cooperation and honesty, you have my promise.”

  “Thank you,” Kendall responded, determined to pretend she’d never hated a little boy through no fault of his own at first. It was simply due to who his father happened to be. Now, she couldn’t stand his lack of manners and his determination to emulate everything Outlaw did.

  This wasn’t about Outlaw and CJ, though. This was about Johnnie, Rory, Matilda, and JJ, and how meaningless her life felt without them.

  “My lady.”

  Roxy smiled at Knox’s words as he held open the back door of Bailey’s Escalade. This morning, as she’d cleaned up from breakfast, a bouquet of long-stemmed red roses had arrived. A gift from Knox with a dinner invitation on the enclosed card.

  For the entire day, she’d went over in her mind how she’d style her hair; if she wanted dramatic makeup or sexpot; whether she’d wear panties or not. In essence, she’d floated on a cloud. She hadn’t been momma of four with a son who hated her or glam-ma or club mother. She hadn’t been divorcee or cancer survivor or anything but Knox’s lady. His fiancée. She’d reveled in that wonderful feeling.

  Until thoughts of how Mortician would fuck with her date intruded. A way to beat her son-in-law at his own game inspired her to call Knox.

  “Invite Mort and Bailey to join us,” she’d suggested.

  As expected, Knox had resisted, capitulating when she explained her reasoning.

  “Tonight’s church. If we fuck with his schedule enough, maybe the motherfucker will stop fucking with our fucking.”

  “I’ll handle this, Roxanne. Knowing that man, he’ll decline the invitation then tell us we can’t go either like we’re fucking five-year-olds. I will invite him, but when he declines, I intend to inform him we’re going with or without him.”

  Roxy had grinned. “You do that, sugar. Call me back.”

  An hour had passed before she heard from Knox again.

  “It’s all set,” he’d said, grim. “We’re going on a double date.”

  Although she knew there was a story there, Roxy decided not to press Knox for an explanation.

  Now, as they started off, with Mortician in the driver’s seat, Bailey next to him up front, and Roxy cozied up to Knox on the second row, she chuckled when he nuzzled her neck.

  “Do you want to make out, sweetheart?” he breathed against her ear.

  “Fuck yeah, but not here.”

  “Knox, son, you too close,” Mortician called. “I didn’t skip church to watch you pushing all up on Roxanne.”

  “Lucas, they can’t do anything in front of us,” Bailey said with exasperation. “They’re just snuggling.”

  “How about I pull this motherfucker over and we snuggle, too?”

  “How about I knock you the fuck out and leave you on the side of the fucking road, Mortician?” Roxy growled.

  Mortician met Roxy’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “I didn’t have to consent to this date, man.”

  “Yes, you did,” Bailey said on a sniff. “You’re taking this way too serious, Lucas. I appreciate how much you want to protect Momma, but this is really getting out of hand.”

  “It’s not,” Mortician insisted. “Just trust me, pretty girl.”

  “I get that you don’t like Knox,” Bailey went on, not as irritated as before, “but Momma loves him. They’re going to marry. This is just ridiculous. You weren’t even going to allow them to go on a date, for crying out loud.”

  “Don’t remind me, Bailey,” Mortician snapped. “Motherfucker had no business calling you.”

  “You think not?” Knox finally put in. “If I would’ve left it up to you, you would’ve given me all kinds of bullshit. I took a page from the playbook all of you use when you want something from Outlaw and call Megan first.”

  “I resent that shit,” Mortician said. “That should work on Outlaw not me.”

  Roxy cocked her head to the side, biting her lip to keep from dissolving into laughter at how deftly her man had outsmarted Mortician. “You called Bailey, Knox?”

  Grinning, Knox winked at her, then nodded.

  “Woohoo,” she chortled, leaning forward and tapping Mortician on the shoulder.

  “What?” he growled.

  “Burn, motherfucker, burn.”

  “Shut up.”

  Roxy thumped the back of his head. “Don’t tell me to shut up, boy. You lost your fucking mind talking to me like that? I’ll fuck you up.”

  “Fuck, Roxanne. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disrespect you, but my pride stinging.”

  “Oh Lucas,” Bailey clucked. “Knox just wants to enjoy time with his lady.”

  “I don’t give a fuck. Roxanne our family. She important to
us. As head of the family, I have to protect her from stupid motherfuckers.”

  “I resent that,” Knox spat.

  “Hold on, Knox,” Bailey said, twisting around to offer a brief smile. “Lucas, is there something…there’s a reason you’re acting like this, isn’t there? What has Knox done?”

  “You’re supposed to be on my side, Bailey,” Knox fumed. “Suddenly you’re switching loyalties and turning against me? How can you be so traitorous?”

  “Wait a goddamn minute, Knox—” Roxy started.

  “Knox, motherfucker, you talk to my woman like you got some goddamn sense or I’m cutting your fucking tongue out of your fucking mouth,” Mortician interrupted. The chill in his voice dropped the temperature in the SUV by degrees. “Bailey didn’t do this for you. She did it for her momma and don’t fucking forget that.”

  “Fuck off, Mortician,” Knox retorted. “I’m sick to death of all you barbarians. Outlaw threatens me. Johnnie. Now you. And it usually has to do with Megan, Kendall, or Bailey. Your women are capable of defending themselves.”

  “They more than capable,” Mortician agreed, “but why do they have to do it, when they got us to do it for them?”

  “All right, everybody,” Bailey inserted, “this isn’t the way to start our date. Let’s just drop it.”

  Deciding to take her daughter’s advice, Roxy settled back into her seat, refusing to explore the merit of Bailey’s question.

  “Mr. Harrington, a pleasure to see you, sir.”

  Knox nodded to the maitre’d at J’s, the restaurant his mother owned. “Thank you, Geoff. I’ve reserved the Tea Room.”

  “Very good, sir. Ms. Doucette,” Geoff greeted with a smile. “I’d like to offer my congratulations on your engagement to Mr. Harrington.”

  Roxy grinned. “Thank you, sugar,” she said, her friendliness always on display. It didn’t matter if she spoke to a prince or a pauper, she was always herself. “This is my daughter, Bailey, and her husband, Mortician.” She indicated each of them with a nod.

  Geoff took in Bailey, beautiful and elegant as usual, in a little black dress. The maitre’d focused on Mortician, glanced at him from head to heel, then stared at the patches on the front of his cut. “You’re acquainted with Mr. Outlaw, sir?”

  “That’s my prez,” Mortician answered without shame.

  Geoff nodded. “Please send my regards to him and his lovely wife.”

  It still blew Knox’s mind that Outlaw and Megan were regulars at this elegant restaurant.

  “If you’ll follow me, your private room is ready,” Geoff announced.

  “Of course.” Knox placed his hand at the small of Roxanne’s back and started forward. Along the way, several acquaintances stopped their little party to greet and congratulate him and Roxanne on their engagement.

  Although he wanted to pretend Mortician wasn’t one of his guests, Roxanne always included him when she introduced Bailey.

  Her pride in her daughter came through in her every word. As put together as Bailey was, Knox didn’t think she had anything on Roxanne. His fiancée redefined the word gorgeous and gave it her own special flare. Her little black dress had cutouts on each side that showed her beautiful skin. She wore heels so high that Knox didn’t understand how she walked in them. “Red bottoms” she’d called them.

  “What?”

  “Louboutins,” she’d replied.

  Those, he knew. They were designer shoes. Very expensive designer shoes. He’d had enough manners not to ask how she afforded them without asking him for money. She wore cubic zirconia earrings, necklace, and bracelet. The only authentic diamond—his engagement ring—outshone the other jewelry.

  “Your mother has a beautiful restaurant, Knox,” Bailey said.

  Mortician held her chair out, surprising Knox. The biker was the only one of their foursome who looked out of place with his thuggish clothes and diamond earrings.

  “Thank you, Bailey,” Knox responded, holding Roxanne’s chair out, too. The already-short hem of her dress rode up her thigh a couple inches more. It took effort but he restrained his need to touch her.

  Once she settled in her seat, Mortician settled next to Bailey. It almost seemed as if he knew one of the marks of a gentleman was waiting to sit until after all ladies were comfortable. Adjusting the lapels of his jacket, Knox scoffed at the idea, sitting between Roxanne and Bailey. He slid Roxanne’s chair closer to him and draped an arm around her.

  “Please bring the champagne and caviar out,” Knox instructed.

  “Yes, Mr. Harrington,” Geoff said and hastened to do his bidding.

  “We aren’t getting menus?” Roxanne asked.

  “No, sweetheart.” They would’ve gotten menus if they had been alone, but Knox didn’t want to hold up the evening while Mortician tried to navigate the offerings. “I called ahead and planned what we’d dine on.”

  “You thought of everything to make me feel special.” Roxy leaned in and brushed her lips over his. “You’re a wonderful man, Knox. So romantic. I’m so lucky to have you." Another quick kiss. “I love you so much.”

  He caressed her cheek and smiled at her. “I love you, too, Roxanne.”

  “Roxanne, don’t tell me you turning into one of those women,” Mortician said with disapproval. “So blinded by dick, you don’t know when a motherfucker being a motherfucker.”

  Knox glared at Mortician. He’d managed to avert suspicion away from Mortician’s motives by putting Bailey on the defensive. These bikers were so predictable, Knox knew what Mortician’s reaction would be. The man wouldn’t let go of his hostility over a few words Knox had said in anger. Mortician had to be as stupid as Outlaw, if he believed Knox had proposed to Roxanne for any other reason but love.

  Mortician threw Roxanne an accusing look. “You always been so tough. Why you got to act like a starry-eyed bitch over him?”

  Bailey elbowed Mortician. “Stop it, Lucas. All Knox wants to do is make Momma happy.”

  “Yeah, Mortician,” Roxanne added. “All damn day, Knox has been doing romantic gestures. He sent me beautiful roses. Why would I think Knox is up to no good because he planned our menu?”

  “You know why, Roxanne. The motherfucker think he better than us. He planned it because he didn’t think I’d know how the fuck to act.”

  “Oh, please,” Knox scoffed, refusing to admit that Mortician was correct. “I don’t have time for those silly games.”

  Mortician scowled at him.

  “Can you two please get the fuck alone?” Roxanne bit out. “If your ass wouldn’t be a fucking Pussy Patrol, Mortician, you wouldn’t be such a grouchy motherfucker.”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Harrington?”

  Knox looked toward the sound of the voice and saw several staff members standing in their private room, carrying trays of appetizers, plates, glasses, and a silver wine bucket with the champagne. Wondering how much these young people heard, Knox pasted a smile on his face.

  “Come on,” he instructed. “Foie gras,” he announced when a waitress placed the first silver tray on the table. “Jamon Iberico. Iberian ham produced in Spain and Portugal.” He sidled a smug glance at Mortician. “We’ll eat it with toasted baguettes, garlic, tomatoes, and olive oil.” He pointed to the last dish. “Caviar tartlet. A Beluga hybrid with crème fraiche.”

  Leaning back in his seat, Mortician folded his arms, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

  “Knox—” Roxanne started with disapproval.

  “One moment, my love,” he interrupted a waiter handed him a champagne glass filled with a taste of the Armand de Brignac. “Very good. You may pour a glass for each of us.” He gave Mortician a polite smile. “We have beer if you’d prefer.”

  “Knox,” Bailey chided.

  “It’s okay, pretty girl. We not going to be at the fucking restaurant all night.”

  “Knox, stop being an uppity motherfucker,” Roxanne demanded, not caring that employees were in their midst. “I’m sick of your bullshit. Don’t fuck up eve
rything you’ve done for me today by ruining our date.”

  “Thank you,” Knox responded as he accepted his glass of champagne and sipped to get control of his temper.

  When the workers all cleared out, Knox and Mortician drank their champagne in silence. Roxanne and Bailey kept up small talk between swallows from their glasses and tastes of the food. Somehow, Mortician inserted himself into the conversation by commenting on whatever the women discussed. After draining his glass and pouring himself another one, Knox decided to join in.

  “I don’t know, man,” Mortician was saying. “I’m with Outlaw. He don’t want Meggie girl with a tattoo. I don’t want you with one, Bailey. Your skin so gorgeous on its own.”

  “Not even a tramp stamp?” she asked, blinking her eyelids in an exaggerated manner.

  Mortician grinned, then leaned over and kissed her. “Maybe, you can convince me of that.”

  “What would you think if I got a tramp stamp?” Roxanne asked.

  “Even if I knew what the hell that is, which I don’t, why would you want anything associated with the word tramp?”

  Roxanne’s saucy smile made Knox laugh. “Me talking about being a tramp benefits you.”

  He gave Bailey an uncomfortable look, but the girl’s attention was on her husband and whatever he was whispering to her.

  Knox gave Roxanne a wolfish smile. “I’m listening, sweetheart.

  “Why we never went on a double date before?” Mortician’s timing with that question was so precise, Knox swore he did it on purpose. “We family. We should’ve been getting to know each other on a one-on-one basis months ago.”

  “Yeah,” Bailey said in agreement. “Outlaw, Meggie, Johnnie, and Kendall used to have a double date once a month like Lucas and me, and Digger and Bunny.”

  “An oversight on our part, sugar,” Roxanne answered. “We’re going to make up for that.”

  “We go out with Cam and Jordan a couple of times a month, love,” Knox reminded her. “I have to share you then and also at the weekly family dinners. I don’t think I could bare to cut into our couple’s time with anymore double dates.”