Misrule

by Kelly, Kathryn C.

  He hadn’t gotten much rest last night, missing Megan and worried that Johnnie would go on a fucking killing spree.

  Christopher and Mort had still been in Hortensia, buying shit to take on the road with them, gassing their bikes, and mapping out the best routes, when Knox called in a panic because Johnnie had demanded Emily’s address and was headed to her house.

  Christopher had already had a lot on his mind because he’d told Megan he had a run to make. He hadn’t mentioned that it involved guns since that had gotten his ass scooped up the last time he fucked with weapons. Until he figured out what he intended to do, he didn’t want to unnecessarily worry her. He’d had one long conversation with Joyner. One particular fucking thing had set off alarms in Christopher. When Amfinger said he’d been born in New Orleans.

  Christopher had found it odd, since Roxanne was from New Orleans, too. Of course, a lot of motherfuckers lived there and had been born in the city. But with her boy acting like he didn’t like his bones in one piece, Christopher had wondered if Amfinger needed to become Aintfinger.

  Riley had checked out Duke and Creighton, his father. No connection had been made between the three of them, so, maybe, it was just coincidence, and he’d grown into a paranoid motherfucker. He’d think on this shit later. Right now, Johnnie’s begging for Kendall’s life still fucked with him.

  “Ain’t I makin’ the choice for Johnnie? A motherfucker do that shit to me, and I woulda killed them. Yet, look at my fuckin’ ass.”

  “Prez, honest…?” Mort looked into the distance, then heaved in a sigh and met his gaze. “The shit you doing not your style. You don’t do fucking sneak attacks. If you want a motherfucker dead, you killing them and letting every motherfucker around know what the fuck you did.”

  Christopher scrubbed a hand over his face. “This shit different. This family. Megan ain’t wantin’ me to kill Johnnie or Kendall.”

  “That’s why the motherfucker alive today,” Mortician guessed. “When you shot him a few months ago, I know you re-angled your piece at the last minute because of Meggie girl. But, fuck, what you doing getting this Emily chick involved with Johnnie?”

  “Trying to get Kendall so fuckin’ traumatized that she can’t take livin’ no fuckin’ more and go fuck herself the fuck up.”

  Mort winced. “In other words, you not killing her.”

  “Not fuckin’ directly.”

  “No, but, dead is dead, Outlaw. Whether you kill Kendall yourself or drive her to do it, she’ll still be gone.”

  “And the fuckin’ world be a better place without her,” Christopher snapped, feeling as psycho as psycho cunt. No wonder Johnnie was so fucked up. That’s what that bitch did to motherfuckers with her Franken-fucking-stein ass.

  Memories of his son with members of a Dweller support club because CJ had been abandoned by the same motherfuckers who’d taken Megan hadn’t left him yet. Inevitable, he thought of Megan, and the way he’d found her close to death. In some fucking shape or form, Kendall had been responsible for each of those events.

  “Just off the top of my goddamn head, I can fuckin’ name sixteen fuckin’ crimes that bitch did, Mort.”

  “Sixteen, Prez?”

  “She got Johnnie shot.” He used his finger to tick off each crime she’d committed. “She drugged the motherfucker. She got my ass, Val, and her-fuckin-self stolen after inter-fuckin-fering in club business. She stowed away on the goddamn plane I was on to go and fix her fuckin’ bullshit. She threatened to open her big fuckin’ mouth and tell Megan the truth about what happened to Traveler and Dinah. She got into a fuckin’ fight with Bitsy. She came to the club, on Logan orders, to get dick from me to fuck up my marriage.”

  “Prez, you about to run out of fucking fingers.”

  Christopher flipped Mort off, then ditched the current finger count and started off. “She keep flirtin’ with my goddamn ass. The first time she met Megan that bitch told my girl she was the cunt that grinded her pussy on me. She paid Daphne to fuck with me to make Megan think I was cheatin’. She got that stupid bitch fucked up cuz I told Daphne to stop fuckin’ with Megan. Did she fuckin’ listen? Nope. Kendall made her believe other-fuckin-wise. Let’s fuckin’ forget Daphne a minute. Kendall blackmailed Fee. She a lyin’ bitch when she told motherfuckers she knocked up. And what about her lil’ motherfuckers? The way that bitch treat Rory is fucked up and you fuckin’ know it.”

  Mortician squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Damn, Red make it hard to plead for her life, huh?”

  “Very fuckin’ hard. What the fuck can you fuckin’ say?”

  “Red tried to get Bailey to divorce me, Outlaw. She was just looking out for Bailey, though.” Mortician raised his hands before Christopher blasted him. “Hold on. Kendall selfish, but some of the shit she do is for the right reasons. She just go about them the wrong way.”

  “That’s your fuckin’ friend, Mort, so you gonna take up for her.”

  “I don’t have nothing to say about the way she treat her kids and CJ,” Mort confessed.

  “A bitch fuckin’ willin’ to beat a kid like he a grown fuckin’ man is a bitch that don’t deserve to fuckin’ breathe. Case fuckin’ closed. Kendall need to die. I want to kill her. Put the gun to her head, meet her eyes with mine, and blow her the fuck away.”

  “I understand, Prez. Any other motherfucker and she would’ve been grounded a long time ago.”

  “Exactly, Mort. Cuz in our fuckin’ world, a motherfucker fuck up, he die. Ain’t no middle-fuckin’-ground. Kendall fuck up over and over a-fuckin-gain.”

  “That’s just it, Prez. This the gray area we never have had to worry about, but now we talking about family. No matter how you feel about it, Red related.”

  Christopher clenched his jaw. Hearing Mort speak the words he’d been thinking, annoyed the fuck out of him.

  “Whether you like it or not, Outlaw, it’s true,” Mort insisted. “You not handling things as you normally would, per se. Your means of reaching the end result is different, but Kendall still going to end up deader than a motherfucker.”

  “Sharper was your fuckin’ old man. Johnnie was Logan favorite. You two motherfuckers still fucked up those two motherfuckers. Ain’t no gray area there.”

  “What do you want me to say, Prez?” Mortician asked, a thread of frustration dropping into his tone.

  “Not a motherfuckin’ thing,” Christopher snapped.

  What was there to say? Either that bitch would live or fucking die. By telling Mort the truth, yesterday, after leaving Emily, Christopher knew he was having second thoughts.

  Mort used the binoculars to look across the way. “Joyner gone, Prez.”

  “Let’s wait a few fuckin’ minutes to see if the motherfucker come back.” He didn’t know if he’d gone in the room or left altogether.

  “Peep this, Outlaw,” Mortician started after a moment. “Say Kendall fuck herself up after shit play out as you have them planned. What then? You can’t fucking tell me you’re going to be comfortable ever again. A part of you will always fear Meggie going to find out what really happened to Kendall.”

  “Unless you fucking tell her…” A vision of Knox rose in his head, and Christopher’s voice trailed off.

  “You planning on killing Knox, too?” Mort asked, correctly guessing where Christopher’s thoughts landed. “You don’t have to worry about me, Outlaw. I’ll keep your secrets, even if I don’t agree with them, and guard you with my last breath, as my president and friend. Don’t get me wrong. I hope you don’t do nothing that will get me fucked up on your behalf. I happen to like living.”

  “In other words, no matter what the fuck I do, that bitch win,” he snarled, anger at the corner he found himself in, rising to the top. “If I fuckin’ grab that bitch by the throat, shove my gun in her mouth, look her in the eyes, and pull the trigger, she win cuz I gotta waste my fuckin’ brain cells thinkin’ of her as she die. If I fuckin’ drive her to fuck herself up, Ima fuckin’ worry the rest of my fuckin’ days ab
out Megan findin’ out. On fuckin’ top of that, I gotta either fuck up Knox or cut his fuckin’ tongue out, yeah?”

  “I didn’t say nothing about cutting the dude’s tongue out, Prez,” Mortician chided.

  Christopher shrugged. “Either his fuckin’ brains would have to go or his fuckin’ tongue.”

  “Tongue would be fine. I’m sure Knox would agree.”

  “The most galling fucking development,” Christopher continued, ignoring Mortician as he came to the obvious conclusion, “would be lettin’ that fuckin’ bitch live.”

  “You could also demand Johnnie choose. Tell him he either have to divorce Kendall or leave the club. The way you doing it now, you choosing for him anyway by putting Emily in his path and the way you have shit going down with Kendall.”

  “Whatcha think of that Emily bitch?” Christopher asked, changing the subject.

  “I don’t know her, other than seeing her ass for ten fucking minutes. What do you think of her?”

  “You think she for Big Joe?”

  “Wouldn’t that be fucking ironic?” Mort grumbled, then nodded. “A part of me do. If she is for Boss, bitch might be a fucking psychopath like Snake or an angel like Meggie.”

  Christopher would bet psycho-fuckin-path. “Something about this bitch warnin’ me that she bad news. I ain’t able to put my fuckin’ finger on it.”

  “She a psycho then,” Mort decided.

  Christopher shrugged. “And she not for Big Joe, by the way. Had Riley check into it. Got a picture of her old man. When you put that bitch next to that motherfucker, they look alike.”

  “That shit would’ve been too coincidental,” Mort responded. “Prez, why you got Knox working on this Johnnie triangle shit? You using Riley for everything else.”

  “Knox don’t like Kendall.”

  “I know. So you thought that would make it easier?”

  “Knox don’t like my fuckin’ ass neither. He think he so fuckin’ different from us, but especially me. It ain’t dawned on that motherfucker, that he not much different, after-fucking-all.”

  “I told you he want to learn how to ride. And he want a tat. I know you don’t believe him, but I got it all setup with Gabe for later today.”

  “I don’t believe him, Mort,” Christopher agreed. “If he serious, I ain’t got a problem helpin’ the motherfucker, but if he doin’ it just to impress Roxanne and ain’t really into it, I ain’t involvin’ my-fuckin-self.”

  “Prez—”

  “No, Mort. Think about how he act with psycho cunt. He pretend he ain’t got a problem with her in front of Roxanne, but we know that ain’t the case. Knox want Kendall gone. The one time that bitch did something fuckin’ right and he hate her fuckin’ guts for it. He bein’ a cutthroat motherfucker, workin’ for me, to get things his fuckin’ way. He ain’t givin’ a fuck how Roxanne feel about Kendall and he ain’t givin’ a fuck that he consider Johnnie his friend. I fuckin’ thought I’d help him see how fuckin’ much like us he is be-fuckin-fore the weddin’. If that shit even happen now.”

  Mort blew out a breath. “On the real, Outlaw? What the fuck going on? Shit just seems so off-kilter. We been near the border of Northern Cali for two fucking days. Watching Amfinger not a life or death situation, meaning you don’t have to be away from your woman. And, usually, when you don’t have to be away from Meggie, you not. Now you away from your girl and you got me away from mine. This not like you.”

  “I needed time to think,” he admitted. “Megan don’t fuckin’ know about Emily.” A fucking timebomb waiting to fuck him in the ass if he didn’t tell her. “Megan don’t know about…” He shook his head, unable to finish. Kendall, he added silently.

  Even now, after she whipped that bitch’s ass over CJ, Christopher would bet his cock and balls that Megan wouldn’t be happy with all of his plans.

  Mort put a hand on his shoulder. “Prez, you can’t let your need for vengeance destroy what the fuck you and Meggie got. Kendall not worth it. And I don’t fucking mean that as aspersions against Red.”

  “That should be a aspersion against that cunt.”

  “Prez…”

  “No, fuck, Mort, while you tellin’ my ass to go easy on that bitch, you forgettin’ what she was gonna do to my boy. Two separate fuckin’ occasions. You just givin’ that cunt a pass.”

  “I’m not,” Mortician insisted, slightly offended. “Kendall got issues, though.”

  “Yeah, bein’ alive,” Christopher snapped. “That’s her biggest motherfuckin’ issue.”

  “At least admit she have a mental problem.”

  “Okay, Mort. Ima admit to that shit. In her mind, she think she better than every-fuckin-body. Mental problem identi-fuckin-fied.”

  “You letting your anger blind you.”

  “That shit allowin’ me to see quite fuckin’ clearly. If I had a fuckin’ crystal ball, that motherfucker would be fuckin’ red with Kendall blood. That’s how fuckin’ clear knowin’ she gotta die is to me.”

  “Outlaw, if Meggie girl find out, what’s going to happen then?”

  Christopher turned away from Mort, went to his bike, opened his saddlebag, and pulled out a pint of rum. He uncapped it and finished half the bottle. “I ain’t gonna have Megan if Kendall stay in the fuckin’ picture. Sooner or later, that cunt gonna do something that really get my girl fuckin’ killed. Then what?” He finished the bottle off, then used it to point at his friend. “Ima tell you then what. My fuckin’ life over. I gotta get rid of Kendall, Mort. She ruinin’ my life, Megan life, Johnnie life, fuck, her kids’ lives. She miserable and makin’ every-fuckin-body else fuckin’ miserable.”

  “She one of us, Prez. Just like motherfucking Knox. Just like Roxanne. And Bailey. And Meggie. Kendall one of us. She belong to Johnnie.”

  Christopher’s life would be so much easier if Kendall was gone, but what would her death do to Johnnie? Especially if Christopher backed her into a suicide. Johnnie might not ever forgive himself.

  Mort’s phone dinged and he grabbed it from his pocket. “Look,” he said a moment later, holding the device up. “Bailey made reservations for our second honeymoon at this resort.”

  “When Knox first proposed to Roxanne, I told my-fuckin-self that we was gonna keep shit on the right track and just focus on the fuckin’ weddin’. Yet…” His voice trailed off and he shook his head. “Yet—”

  “Planning a fucking wedding, or two, is so far off the goddamn radar, we probably won’t ever get it back on track, huh, Prez?” Mort’s expression dropped, and matched the plaintive note in his voice.

  Instead of backing off from his plans for Kendall, he’d speed things up. The quicker this was fucking handled, the quicker life would get back to fucking normal.

  Using Emily was the right choice. No fucking way would Johnnie be cursed with bad e-fuckin-nuff luck to get two lunatic bitches in a row.

  Emily couldn’t ever be as bad as Kendall.

  Never.

  “Let’s ride, Mort,” Christopher said, pretending the dark feeling chasing him wasn’t warning him to back off.

  Pretending the winds of blood and death weren’t moving in, and threatening not only the wedding, but their lives, too.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  “Val!”

  The happy greeting came from Gabe as Knox and Val walked into the tattoo shop Gabe owned. If Knox remembered, Gabe was Bunny’s brother. There were so many branches of family and friends that Knox couldn’t keep them all straight. One segment of their vast tree might break in one place, then pick up with the same father, sister or aunt, in another. Sometimes, he felt as if the entire town of Hortensia were connected to Outlaw in some way.

  “What brings you in here?” Gabe asked, hands on hips, a walking pincushion with pierced brows, lips and nose. Big rings pulled his earlobes down in a grotesque display. “Hey, Knox,” he finally decided to greet.

  Surprised that Gabe knew him, Knox nodded. “Gabe.”

  They’d only run into each other at
club functions three or four times, and talked even less than that.

  As Val and Gabe caught up on happenings in their lives, Knox looked at the tattoo drawings lining the walls. Some were simple Celtic designs and black ink; others were intricate and colorful. It was a really nice shop, with a receptionist station that they stood around. In the middle of the room, half-walls surrounded an area containing a specialized chair, a sink, and utility cabinets. Amidst an arrangement of red leather couches, benches, and matching club chairs stood black lacquer tables, one overflowing with magazines.

  “The reports aren’t ready yet.”

  Gabe’s words grabbed Knox’s attention.

  “I can do a quick printing of this month’s spreadsheet, Val.”

  “You and Stretch do your usual,” Val responded. “We not here about the shops. This about Knox.”

  “Shops?” Knox echoed.

  Val nodded.

  Gabe grinned. “The club owns part of my tattoo shop. We opened a second location in downtown Portland six months ago.”

  Surprised, Knox glanced between the two of them. “I didn’t know that.”

  “You not required to know that,” Val imparted.

  “I’m part of the family,” Knox insisted.

  “But not part of the club,” Val answered as though he spoke to a two-year-old. “Not a member,” he added before Knox thought of a reply. He turned to Gabe. “Knox want ink.”

  Gabe studied Knox from head-to-toe, then burst into laughter. “You?” he said around howls. “You’re not a tattoo-type man, Knox.”

  Knox narrowed his eyes. He had never been laughed at as much until he met Outlaw and crew. However, they didn’t “pick” only on him. They teased each other mercilessly, too. “I didn’t know you needed to be type to have a tattoo.”

  Val And Gabe exchanged glances; both seemed ready to explode with mirth.

  “You know what we mean, Knox,” Val chided. “You downed us partly because we inked.”

  Instead of denying the statement—which would be a blatant lie—Knox glanced away.