“Mortician—” Knox wanted to ask advice on how to win Roxanne back. With the man’s current mood, though, he’d put his life at risk. It didn’t matter that Mortician seemed to know Knox and Roxy hadn’t reconciled. He was looking for any excuse to tear Knox to pieces.
“My ass must be losin’ my fuckin’ touch.” Outlaw’s voice drew Knox out of his reverie. “You walkin’ around too fuckin’ quick.”
Refusing to comment, Knox folded his arms while Outlaw and Mortician sniggered.
“Ready to rock and fuckin’ roll, Mort?”
Mortician stood. “Yeah, Prez.”
As the two men turned to leave, Knox slouched in the chair. He really couldn’t win with them. They took his bonding attempts with antipathy. The few times he’d offered advice, he’d been ignored.
He thought he’d found a common ground with Mortician, whom he would’ve preferred to have in his corner. The one thing that should’ve bonded them—their wealthy backgrounds—seemed not to matter.
A hand landed on his shoulder and Knox glanced behind him. Meeting Outlaw’s gaze, Knox stiffened, then straightened as Mortician reseated himself.
“Everything okay here?” Roxanne asked before anyone spoke.
Having her near reminded Knox that she was worth every injury he had. He wanted to pull her into his arms and…Just like that, an idea hit him, as if lightning struck from Providence. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto his lap, but she didn’t protest. Just as he suspected. Her entire body stiffened, though. He didn’t care. She smelled so good and felt even better. He placed a kiss behind her ear and a small tremor went through her.
“Everything’s fine now that you’re here, sweetheart,” he said gruffly, meaning it.
He shifted underneath her, his hardening dick sweet, sweet agony. “I want you so bad,” he breathed against her ear. “Please, give me one more chance.”
She elbowed him again, then jumped to her feet. Moving out of his reach, she faced him, hands on hips.
“Roxanne, babe, can you bring me some more eggs,” another biker whose name Knox never bothered to learn, called.
She drew in a deep breath, then leveled Knox with one last glower. “Sure, Peaches,” she responded and hurried away.
His heart sinking, Knox watched as she went to the buffet table, grabbed a paper plate and hefted a mountain of eggs onto the styro-foam, then brought it to the table where Peaches sat with another big brute of a man. Knox’s location afforded him full view of her delicious ass.
“Ima meetcha outside, Mort,” Outlaw announced and walked away as Roxanne started a conversation with the two bikers.
For a moment, Mortician stared at Knox, then he rolled his eyes and grabbed a chair. He turned the back toward the table and straddled it.
“She love your dumb ass,” he grumbled. “So if you want her back, you need to straighten the fuck up.”
Knox processed those words, then started. “We’re still—”
“Please, motherfucker,” Mortician interrupted. “Don’t insult my fucking intelligence. Why you think me and Prez came back in here?”
“To kill me?”
“Can’t do that as long as Roxanne think to protect you, motherfucker.”
“Tell me what to do,” he whispered, all pretense gone. “I love her. Please. I’ll do anything.”
Mortician offered him a last glower before sighing and relaxing his shoulders. “Whatever you do to win her back got to be from the heart, Knox. I can give you fucking advice for days, but if the shit not real, it’s going to fall apart anyway.”
“I love her,” Knox repeated, just as he heard Roxanne’s joyous laughter rose above every other sound in the room. Inspiration struck again. “Suppose I become one of you?”
“A roughneck?” Mortician asked with an amused grin.
“Is that what club members are called?”
Mortician laughed. “No, fool. It’s up to you to find out what the fuck that is. So you want to become a Dweller?” he finished with skepticism.
He didn’t ride a bike. He didn’t have tattoos. He didn’t…No! Roxanne loved these people. “Yes,” he said with certainty.
“As initiation, you have to bury a motherfucker who a club enemy.”
Did Kendall count? Probably not. Knox knew better than to ask the question.
“You willing to do that?” Mortician pressed. “Kill someone?”
Was he? Did winning Roxanne back mean setting aside his principles and values? Would she really expect that of him?
“You not,” Mortician went on.
“I don’t kill in cold blood. I don’t think Roxanne would expect that of me.”
“It wouldn’t be in cold blood,” Mortician argued. “It would be because of a crime against the club. Motherfuckers in the game know the rules.”
“You live by the sword, you die by the sword.”
“Something like that,” Mortician agreed.
“Couldn’t I do something else as initiation? The prospective arms deal…what ever came of that, by the way?”
“Initiation set, Knox. We not changing it to fit your sensibilities. And that deal with the guns? Forget your involvement. Prez giving you your cut if the deal go through.”
“It was a viable contact?” Knox asked, satisfied. Surely, that would gain him some points.
“I’m not telling you nothing about it. One thing you got to know is collateral damage fuck things up when you least expect it.”
“I don’t…how would innocent people die? This is just a simple gun deal.”
“Nothing ever simple in our world,” Mortician countered. “Roxanne your collateral damage if you involved in the club or any deals. Not only her, but your parents. Grant. Even your ex-wife.”
Startled at the revelation, Knox widened his eyes.
“All you got to do is fuck up or trust the wrong motherfucker or get on some motherfucker bad side, be it friend or foe. You willing to risk everybody you ever been close to? Not only for knowledge about those guns, but to get into the club.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Knox insisted. “It’s about loyalty and trustworthiness. I know the meaning of brotherhood. I practiced it—”
“On the wrong fucking side,” Mortician snapped.
“Mortician, please—”
“Do you even know how to fucking ride?”
“Cam does,” Knox answered quickly. “He can teach me. I can purchase a bike today and…and…and, another way I can be like you is to get a tattoo. I can get a skull on the back of my hand.”
Sighing, Mortician stood. “I’m willing to teach you to ride, Knox. But don’t get no perfunctory-ass, condescending goddamn ink that would be just the right size for CJ. You want to get tatted, do it fucking right or don’t do it at all.”
“Okay.”
“Think about that long and hard,” Mortician said, standing. “If you want ink, we’ll take you to Bunny brother. As for the riding, your lessons start soon. One last thing, Knox. You can’t let your fucking guard down in a place filled with fucking cameras. Feel me?”
Knox snapped his brows together, thinking of the conversation he’d had with Roxanne earlier. Instead of speaking and having a trembling voice betray his sudden fear, he nodded.
Mortician smirked. “See you around.”
A few minutes after Mortician left, Roxanne headed back toward the kitchen, without even a glance in his direction.
He might lose a few battles because of his own tactical mistakes, but he intended to win the war and make Roxanne his again, now and forevermore. And he’d do it without any collateral damage involved.
Chapter Forty-Two
Killing the ignition, Meggie got out of her car, then leaned against the door to wait for her escorts. The four guys rode up a moment later, parked their Harleys and dismounted. Pete, Krag, Webster, and Talbot had all been around during her father’s time—and before.
Not that they acted as if they’d known Big Joe or had any loyalty to C
hristopher. The early start to their day seemed to make them ornerier than usual. She’d had to go to the bank to take Kendall’s name off as a signatory, on the home healthcare business account. Now, they’d arrived at the mall, where stores were just opening.
Krag frowned at her, then circled her Mini Cooper. She only took her Navigator out when she had two or more of her children with her.
Removing the toothpick from the corner of his mouth, Krag pointed it at her. “Outlaw needta teach ya how to fucking park, Meggie.” He toothpick-pointed to her front wheel. “You shoulda fucking straightened it, instead of parking like a fucking woman.”
“I am a woman, Krag,” she said with a smile.
He scowled at her. “No shit,” he growled. “That’s why we here, wasting our day for woman shit. Cuz you got a pussy.” He used the toothpick as floss and removed something from between his teeth, then studied it before sniffing it, flicking it away, and shoving the disgusting little stick back into his mouth.
Meggie’s stomach turned. Pregnancy kept her queasy or vomiting in the best of times. She couldn’t take much more of Krag’s toothpicking habit before she threw up.
Talbot studied her from head-to-toe. His grizzled gray beard didn’t match the silky beauty of the salt-and-pepper hair that reached down to his waist. He narrowed his eyes.
“Don’t even mention grooming me, girl,” he warned. “I didn’t go for that shit when you first said it. Not going for it now.”
Meggie looked at her toes. Somehow, these four brothers that she only knew from serving them at the club, had ended up on her detail. Mortician, Cash, Stretch or Digger had stopped being assigned to her long ago. Johnnie never had been, while Val…well, Val was Val. They’d laid the past to rest, so…so she’d leave it at that.
Unfortunately, Pete, Krag, Webster, and Talbot were the primary reasons she’d been so happy to have Christopher slack up on her details. Beyond gruff, they jumped sheer cantankerousness.
Biting her lip, she shifted, and wrapped her arms around her waist. She could always tell Christopher…only, she couldn’t. He’d kill them, which left her stuck.
A loud crack punctuated the air, and she jumped. At the guys’ laughter, she realized one of them had clapped their hands.
Webster belched. The sharpness of his reddish-brown hair indicated a dye job and in no way matched the intense wrinkles in his face. “I got a broad to fuck, Megan. So get to fucking moving. We not those young bucks sniffing behind your cunt and dying to be in your fucking company.”
“You wish your cock still worked, Webster,” Pete said around guffaws.
“It do!” Webster protested. “That Viagra shit been working wonders for my dick. I got a fucking hard-on and can fuck a young bitch for fucking hours.”
“You mean you fuck your fucking hand for hours,” Krag teased with a grin.
“Fuck off,” Webster snapped, flipping Krag off.
Meggie sighed. “Guys, I know you don’t want to guard me. Why don’t you tell Christopher?”
The four of them stared at her as if she’d turned into Medusa.
“Always said you was too much of a stupid little cunt to be Joe’s girl and Snake’s sister,” Krag said in disgust. “Now, you Outlaw’s bitch. Never been worthy of him and never will be.”
Tears rushed to Meggie’s eyes and she glanced away. She just wasn’t feeling good this morning. The baby was making up for the lost time he’d hidden himself and letting Meggie know, in no uncertain terms, that he was inside of her.
“Don’t start that fucking whining, Megan,” Webster warned.
“I thought we were all friends,” Meggie said on a sniffle. “Why do you treat me this way during my errands?”
“We not a fucking bitch sitter,” Krag said flatly. “And we don’t appreciate Outlaw giving us this duty to watch you fucking shop or hang out with other bitches or all your little fucking cum squirts—”
Swiping at her tears, Meggie stiffened and glared at Krag. “Do not refer to my children that way.”
He stepped closer to her. “Or what?”
“Or I’ll tell Christopher.” She met his gaze, unsure how effective she was being when her eyes were so watery. “Back off, Krag. You implied you had to be on my detail because Christopher either expected it of you or you couldn’t decline him because he’s your president. If you’re going to treat me this way, you should’ve turned him down. Your attitude will get you killed anyway.”
“Krag, brother, back off.” Pete grabbed Krag’s arm to pull him back. “She’s right. We need to sit down and talk to Outlaw and tell him this job not for us. We never had a problem with Meggie before. We shouldn’t take out our frustrations toward Prez on her.”
“Me and Krag been here since Outlaw was a boy,” Webster complained. “He should’ve knowed we not cut out for bitch detail.”
“He put you on bitch detail because he trusted you,” Meggie snapped. “Because he’s known you for so long.”
“So this a position of honor?” Talbot asked with a lift of his brow.
Meggie nodded.
“The fuck it is,” Talbot countered, squashing Meggie’s hope that they’d realize how much trust Christopher placed in them. “You fucking saying he was honoring us by trusting us to guard you? That’s a crock of shit. In our fucking view, he dishonored us.”
Hearing the disgust in their voices, Meggie went on alert, but decided not to say too much. They might hurt her. The fact that they’d die, too, didn’t seem to matter to them.
Their dislike of her was almost more emotional duress than she could handle.
She rubbed her temples. She loved babies and children. But something didn’t feel quite right inside of her body. Somehow, the unwell feeling seemed more than her usual intense morning sickness.
She’d suffered placental abruption during her second pregnancy and lost Patrick because of it. Then, she’d had so many other successful pregnancies. That she’d known about within just a few weeks of conceiving.
Yet…Meggie shook herself.
The feeling was just a holdover from her kidnapping. So much could change so fast.
“You know one thing I hate about your generation, Meggie?” Krag asked.
“Nope,” she responded, her patience too thin to surfer the attitudes of resentful men. “And you know what, Krag, I really don’t care.”
“I’m telling you anyway.”
“I figured you would,” she retorted, glaring at him.
Pete’s laughter surprised her. “See? Told you assholes that’s why Outlaw crazy about this bitch. She got just the right amount of sweetness and sass. Just when you think you cowering her, she come back with a punch.”
Lighting a cigarette, Webster grunted, then blew the smoke toward her. He stood at her side, so it wasn’t a direct hit, but it still made her cough.
Krag patted her cheek, harder than necessary, then smiled. “Mad mugging me, Meggie?”
“If that’s what you see, then that’s what I’m doing. And if you put your hands on me again, not only am I telling Christopher, but I’m calling him right now.” She shoved her hand in the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out her cell phone, waving it in front of him. “I’m giving you one last warning—back off.”
Krag tweaked her nose and she knocked his hand away.
“As I was saying, girl, I don’t like your generation because you’re a bunch of self-entitled pussies, where women don’t know their fucking place. We don’t have nothing in common with you and you don’t have nothing in common with us.” Krag looked her up and down. “Got a kid older than you. Never watched over her the way Outlaw want me to watch over you. She a tough bitch. You not.” He backed away and glowered between her and Pete. “No matter what this motherfucker say.”
“Yeah, Meggie, you got to give us fucking credit,” Talbot started. “The first one or two times Outlaw gave you to us to watch we didn’t mind that much. The motherfucker keep doing it, though. And all you fucking do is talk and talk. You
don’t know how to shut the fuck up.”
“I was trying to make friends with you. Real friends, not just acquaintances who I chatter with now and then. Even less than that now, since I don’t serve meals anymore. If we’re going to spend so much time together, then we should have conversation.”
“That’s what you not getting, girl!” Krag shouted. “We conversate with a bitch if we want to fuck her or if she related to us. We can’t fuck you and you not related to us, so your jabbering work the fuck on our nerves.”
“Duly noted.”
The next time Krag, Webster, Talbot, and Pete were assigned to her, she’d find a way to ditch them and run her errands alone. She was more than certain they’d agree to pretend to go with her, since they hated the job so much.
She’d cross that bridge when she got to it. Today, she just wanted to get back to her house, curl up, and cry.
Folding his arms, Johnnie leaned against the wall in the bathroom area, waiting for Megan to walk out. When she stumbled out, red-faced and miserable looking, he straightened.
“Megan, baby, what’s the matter?”
She stilled, then scowled at him. “Go away,” she ordered.
“No.” He touched his still-bandaged nose. “I need to talk to you.”
Her gaze touched on all angles of his face, before she met his eyes. “The guys are going to tell Christopher.”
He smiled at her. “Worried for my safety?”
Clutching her stomach, Megan walked to the chair and sat. “What do we have to discuss, anyway?” she grouched, not answering his question. At least not verbally.
To Johnnie, her silence spoke volumes.
“I sent them away,” he admitted.
It surprised him that his announcement didn’t anger her. Everyone knew who was on her detail, so it had just been a matter of calling Krag, asking their location, and meeting them here at the department store.
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