He thrust his fingers through his golden hair, jerking on the ends. The barrel of his gun pointed at the ceiling. As long as he held it, she was in danger.
“You’re a fucking liar,” he roared. “This is just too fucking coincidental. How the fuck do I run into the cunt that tortured my wife during her teenage years?”
Tears slid down Emily’s cheeks and she raised her hands.
Unmoved, he pointed the gun at her. “Fuck you. I’m sending you to hell and feeding you to the fucking butterflies—”
Her door slammed open and Johnnie turned, firing. Emily screamed as Outlaw danced out of the way, drawing and cocking his own weapon so fast, her head spun.
“Fuck, now, Prez, John Boy, put your fucking pieces down,” a black man with long dreads said in a calm voice. His brown eyes took in the scene as his gaze landed on her. “Fuck! Who your daddy? Big Joe?”
“Mort, shut the fuck up,” Outlaw ordered as Johnnie yelled, “Harrington! That motherfucker!”
Outlaw bared his teeth. “Knox ain’t no motherfucker in this fuckin’ instance, motherfucker. Now putcha motherfuckin’ gun down be-fuckin-fore you piss me the fuck off.”
“I can fucking kill you,” Johnnie snapped.
“You pissin’ me the fuck off, John Boy,” Outlaw said.
If the eyes were the mirror to a man’s soul, then Outlaw’s were those of as cold a killer as Johnnie.
“Why, Christopher? Why did you get Emily? Where did you find her?” Johnnie asked evenly, still holding his gun. “Don’t bother to fucking deny it. You being here gave you away.”
“Gave what the fuck away?” Outlaw asked with an icy smile, as if he hadn’t been caught in his own lie. “Knox fuckin’ Harrington called my fuckin’ ass and say you about to kill a fuckin’ bitch who fucked with Kendall years a-fuckin-go. He was fuckin’ worried you was gonna do somethin’ stupid and ain’t know who the fuck else to call. Now, what the fuck you talkin’ about, assfuck?”
Johnnie’s hand shook and he swallowed. “You hate Kendall.”
“What the fuck new about that?” Outlaw answered, not flinching.
He pocketed his 9mm, walking to Johnnie and ignoring the gun pointed at his head. He yanked the weapon out of Johnnie’s hand and slammed it against his chest.
Johnnie sat heavily on the sofa and stared straight ahead. “Kendall…” He drew in a heavy sigh. “No wonder she hates…hated…Megan. Emily looks…She’s the woman who was Kendall’s arch nemesis in school.”
Outlaw’s inscrutable expression gave Emily an insight into his ruthlessness. He gave no indication he knew her.
“John Boy,” the man called Mortician said, stepping next to Outlaw. “Prez not a sneaky bitch like that, brother. If he wanted you to meet this Emily chick”—a brief nod in her direction to acknowledge her—“then he would’ve introduced you himself.”
“I know.” Johnnie hung his head. “But, fuck, Mort!” He shifted and looked between the two men. “Christopher, is Kendall really off the hook? I’m…” He drew in a deep breath. “I’m so scared for her life.”
“Cuz you know that cunt need buryin’, motherfucker.”
“I might be divorcing her, but she’s still the mother of my children. I don’t want her dead. I want her better.”
Outlaw folded his arms. “Then what, huh, assfuck? You takin’ her back? You lettin’ her be with another motherfucker? Think about this shit while you at it.” He pointed to Emily. “What the fuck this bitch fuckin’ mean to my fuckin’ ass to get revenge on your bitch?”
Uncertainty slid across Johnnie’s face and he stared at Emily. She wondered if he saw her at all through that chilling light in his eyes. “Emily looks like Megan. That would be the ultimate revenge on Kendall. If I end up with Megan’s lookalike and her biggest tormenter. Kendall isn’t mentally strong enough for that.”
“That bitch Frankenstein. She strong enough for any-fuckin-thing.”
Emily chewed her lower lip to stifle her laughter.
“And…and Megan,” Johnnie went on in a voice so weary Emily almost felt sorry for him. “She doesn’t want any harm to come to Kendall. You couldn’t deploy your same tactics to seek revenge on my wife because of your woman.”
“I love the fuck outta Megan, Johnnie. Ain’t doin’ shit to piss her the fuck off and have the lil’ motherfucker disa-fuckin-pointed in my ass. She my fuckin’ world.”
Mortician sidled a frown in Outlaw’s direction as Johnnie met Outlaw’s gaze. They stared at one another, until Johnnie conceded and looked away.
“That doesn’t exactly sound like a denial,” he said tightly.
“Ain’t givin’ a good motherfuck what the fuck it sound like to you.”
“Swear to me that my meeting Emily was purely by chance,” Johnnie demanded, turning to study him.
Outlaw snickered. “Ain’t swearin’ shit to you, motherfucker. You either believin’ me or you fuckin’ ain’t.”
“Kendall got Megan kidnapped,” Johnnie said with distinct despair. “Megan almost died while Kendall withheld the information. Megan says it’s over and done with. You almost lost your goddamn mind, Christopher. I know you. I know you. There’s no fucking way you’re letting that go. Kendall’s still alive. You rewarded her with all kinds of shit. Trapping her in your snare. Luring her into your web.” He stood. “If something happens to her by her own hand, you won’t have killed her, but you’d still be responsible for her death because of your schemes.” He shook his head. “Don’t do this to her. Whatever it is. If it isn’t Emily, then it’s something. Please. Don’t hurt Kendall. Let me send her away.”
Instead of answering, Outlaw folded his arms.
“Think about how devastated you’d be if something ever happened to Megan, whether she was at your side or far away,” Johnnie went on. “I love Kendall. I just can’t live with her anymore. I can’t take her schemes and her bullshit. I…don’t hurt her,” he said again. “If you need to seek revenge, kill me instead. Take my life in place of hers.”
“A quarter of that bitch worth ten of you, motherfucker,” Outlaw barked.
“Not to me,” Johnnie shot back.
Outlaw met Johnnie’s gaze. For a moment, Emily thought he was going to confess all.
“You want the fuckin’ truth?” Outlaw said in a lethal tone. “I hate that cunt. She still a-fuckin-live cuz of Megan. All the fuck I wanna do is shoot the fuck outta her for so many fuckin’ reasons. I want that bitch gone. Dead. Wiped the fuck off the face of the fuckin’ earth. Shot from a fuckin’ cannon into fuckin’ space so she can fuckin’ turn into fuckin’ dust. I ain’t able to do that cuz of my girl. Every-fuckin-thing Kendall got cuz of Megan. My life, Megan life, my boy life, your fuckin’ life, your lil motherfuckers’ lives, ain’t ever mattered to Kendall. You think I give a good motherfuck what happen to fuckin’ Kendall when you start fuckin’ other bitches a-fuckin-gain?”
Johnnie looked at Mortician. “Talk to him.”
“What the fuck you want me to say, John Boy? I fucking talk to Red ‘til my balls fucking blue. She don’t fucking listen and that just piss Prez the fuck off.”
“You’re her friend,” Johnnie reminded him.
“I love Red, but she the busiest bitch around,” Mortician said in frustration. He rubbed his eyes then focused on Outlaw. “Prez, Johnnie love Red. Reconsider whatever psycho stalker Wildman revenge you plan for her. We know you planning something. We all do. It might not be this.” He pointed at Emily. “Her, but it’s something. Just don’t kill her.”
“Christopher.” Hope rang in Johnnie’s voice after Mortician’s speech. “I swear if she ever endangers your family again, I’ll kill her myself.”
Outlaw snorted. “That’ll be the fuckin’ day you fuckin’ grow your balls back. Since that bitch chewed them the fuck off and swallowed them motherfuckers, never to be fuckin’ seen a-fuckin-again, you ain’t ever goin’ to fuckin’ kill her.”
“Damn, Prez.”
“Jesus, Christopher.”
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Outlaw smiled again and stared at Emily. “Ain’t layin’ a finger on Kendall,” he announced, never taking his gaze off her. “If that cunt end up buried ain’t gonna be cuz I fuckin’ killed her.”
He smirked at Emily and Johnnie, then turned on his heel. “Come on, Mort. Let’s fuckin’ ride.”
Mortician shook his head, then glanced at Johnnie, pulling on his riding gloves. “Kendall so fucked,” he sighed, and walked out, leaving Emily alone with Johnnie.
He faced her and they stared at each other. He had vulnerability written all over him. This Johnnie she could handle.
“I’m so sorry to have hurt Kendall,” she lied, hoping Kendall never found a reason to tell Johnnie about their last run-in. Of course, Emily could always set up another lunch date and bury the hatchet. Right in her back. “Please, forgive me. Don’t let what happened when we were children get in the way of our attraction.”
“There’s no attraction to you,” he growled.
Sure, asshole.
If he didn’t want to fuck her, why else would he still be there?
“From what I gather, I remind you of some woman.”
“It’s bad enough you fucked over Kendall. Don’t bring Megan into this.”
“You need someone to listen to you, Johnnie. Hear you. It sounds as if you haven’t had that for a very long time.” She patted the spot next to her. “I’m a very good listener. Let’s order pizza and drink a few beers while we get to know each other.”
He considered her for a moment, then closed his eyes.
“No strings attached,” she interjected, determined to sway the battle he waged in her favor. His eyes popped open.
“Fuck you. No!” He glared at her, then stalked out, slamming the door behind him.
His dismissal infuriated Emily, but her hands were tied for now. All wasn’t lost. For a moment he’d considered her offer, then changed his mind. After his smarmy begging on behalf of Kendall, Emily supposed his mind remained on that bitch.
Chapter Forty-Four
Leaning against his bike, Christopher handed the binoculars to Mortician, lit a cigarette, sucked on it, then released the smoke. Sunbursts broke through the March sky, where layers of reds, oranges, and pinks painted dusk with an artist’s palette.
He sniggered at the pussified analogy, dragged on his cigarette again, then puffed out, hoping life was getting back to normal. Megan was pregnant again. Kendall would soon be dead. And the club had a very profitable gun-running deal on the horizon with Knox’s contact if things continued to go smoothly.
“Amfinger not doing a lot, Outlaw,” Mortician informed him as if he’d heard Christopher’s thoughts. “We saw the guns at the warehouse last night. They just like he promised. All the motherfucker doing at this shitty motel is leaving and coming back with food. If you taking the deal, this look legit.”
Christopher ignored Mort’s grouchiness. The motherfucker wanted to be with Bailey, who was fucking devastated over Roxanne. Last night, right after Christopher shared the news that he was going to be a father again, Mort told him that Bailey had just found out she was pregnant, too. Christopher knew that shit made girls emotional.
Joyner Amfinger did seem on the up-and-fucking-up. Riley did a detailed background check on the motherfucker. Amfinger came up for arms dealing, which was to be expected. That’s what the motherfucker had contacted Knox for. Joyner had had legitimate contracts, the kind sanctioned by governments, so Christopher didn’t understand why the motherfucker had contacted Knox to sell weapons to the club.
Shit just didn’t feel right. And, yet…the motherfucker was coming up as being who the fuck he said he was. He also had a warehouse full of merchandise. So what the fuck was the problem? Why was Christopher questioning his instinct when he rarely had before?
He didn’t have to question his fucking uncertainty. It all went the fuck back to Megan. His fucking decisions could mean her life. He’d always known that shit but…Disgust hit him. What the fuck was wrong with him?
Scowling, he snatched the binoculars from Mort’s hands. The man Christopher identified as Joyner leaned on the railing, his mannerisms relaxed. The Joyner motherfucker reminded Christopher of Johnny Bravo, with hair sticking straight the fuck up and tight clothes.
“We riding out today or we staying another day, Prez?”
“Ain’t sure yet. I think we seein’ what the fuck we need to see.” He sucked on his cigarette again. “I ain’t wantin’ to be gone too fuckin’ much longer.”
“Meggie girl okay?” Mort flicked his cigarette into the gulley close to them. He nodded toward the landing that lead to Joyner’s motel room.
Christopher dragged and released smoke again. “She still got rough nights,” he responded. “Me, too. Mystic, the motherfucker, did more fuckin’ harm than he fuckin’ know.“
“Snake took her and you. She didn’t seem no worse for wear.”
“I wasn’t neither. Even though that motherfucker buried me the fuck alive. We both different now, Mort.”
“We all different, Prez.”
Christopher nodded. “Before I knew Megan was alive, I really didn’t give a fuck what the fuck Snake did. I’d lost Ma. Bitsy, Fee, and the rest of my sisters, hated me.” He didn’t like to bring up his other three sisters. Thoughts of them reminded him they’d been killed. They were gone. Focusing on them wouldn’t bring them back, so he shrugged, and got back to their conversation. “When they dug me the fuck up and I heard Megan, I had something to fight for.”
A cool breeze fluttered the low-hanging branches of the trees they lounged under. They were across the highway from the run-down motel that was surrounded by a shabby gas station, a greasy burger joint, a ramshackle bar, rutted roads and deep gullies.
It surprised him to feel so out-of-place, when at one time he would’ve fit in like a skintight glove. Not because he was a biker, but because of how he’d seen himself. His biker life had introduced him to worlds beyond his imagination. Society had it so wrong about the one percenters, but fuck them. That was their problem, not his.
He knew no other life but this one. Since Megan had come into his life, though, he enjoyed more comforts, and didn’t rough it as much. In times like this, when he went on runs and out-of-town business without his girl, he still did. Inadvertently, he’d gotten used to having a home and a family.
For some reason, the realization made him think of Johnnie. He’d pleaded for Kendall’s life with a desperation that haunted Christopher. Under other circumstances, Johnnie’s state would’ve moved Christopher and made him back off. If not for Johnnie’s sake, then thoughts of Megan’s wrath, or disappointment in him, would’ve calmed his rage.
Nothing helped. Not thoughts of Johnnie’s devastation if something happened to Kendall. And, not, the idea of losing the most important thing in his life. Deep down, he hoped Megan would give him a pass. Even when she’d demanded his promise in the forest, he’d skirted around it. She hadn’t pressed him or thrown in his face that he’d already sworn not to hurt Kendall because Megan had insisted he put psycho cunt on the No-Kill list.
Megan had to understand his reasons. But he was doing something he never did…fuck…rarely did…lying to her. About Emily and about all the “rewards” he’d given Kendall for confessing she might know Megan’s location.
He wanted to, at least, tell Megan about Emily, so she didn’t get falsi-fuckin-fied information. Inevitably, that would lead to him telling Megan his plans for Kendall. She might be so fucking disgusted by him and fed the fuck up that she left.
Still, he just went full the fuck speed ahead, as if he’d have no consequences. Just as his grandfather would’ve done. He hated Kendall so fucking much. Yet, if he destroyed what he had with his Megan, that cunt would fucking win any-fucking-way. What the fuck should he do? What the fuck could he do?
Shooting Johnnie hadn’t stopped Kendall. She’d still fucked with CJ. And Megan. Christopher believed only Kendall’s own death would stop her.
&n
bsp; Or, maybe, he could have her locked the fuck away in another fucking psycho camp. Just have her snatched the fuck up, held in a cage with a key that, un-fucking-fortunately, was somehow lost. Thrown from a fucking cliff, into the ocean. Dropped in a fucking Louisiana swamp, where an alligator could swallow it.
The image of dropping Kendall in either of those places rose in Christopher’s head, giving him a greater sense of satisfaction than doing the same to a fucking key. A missing key was easy to rectify. A dead bitch could never be brought back to life to harm Megan or CJ or Johnnie or Rory, ever again.
Still, Kendall was fucking family. Until Johnnie divorced her. If Knox was fucking off-limits with a phony fucking engagement, then Kendall being married to Johnnie had the same benefit. Unless he was turning into his grandfather. Logan Donovan had killed his own fucking son, a motherfucker he’d supposedly loved. Yeah, Christopher had fucked up his old man, but he’d never considered CeeCee his family.
It would’ve made more sense if Logan had killed Christopher. He’d been his grandfather’s most hated object. The motherfucker had never seen people. Just objects, family or not. To play with. To use.
To destroy.
Christopher was doing to Kendall, and by extension Johnnie, what Logan had done to him.
“Mort.” Christopher flicked away his cigarette. “You think my ass turnin’ to Logan?”
“Lowman?” Mortician’s eyes widened. “What the fuck make you think that shit, Outlaw? Not even Satan could turn into that motherfucker.”
“I don’t fuckin’ know, Mort,” he said. “Ain’t I fuckin’ around with Johnnie life? I just been fuckin’ thinkin’. Know how I fuckin’ know this some Logan-type bullshit? Cuz of the fuckin’ shame my ass feelin’. In my fuckin’ head, even my Megan would fuckin’ change her opinion of my ass.” He rubbed his eyes, tired.
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