“It’s me, baby,” she said just in case Kendall was looking at the monitor and wishing she had a key. The same unease that Roxy had been feeling for most of the day slid into her again.
Just as she rang the bell a second time, her phone rang. She’d already given Grant a special ring, so she knew it was him calling.
“Hey, sugar,” she answered. The little boy had made a lot of strides since he’d moved to Hortensia.
“Hi, Roxy,” he answered. “Can I have some ice cream? I asked Dad but he told me to call you.”
Roxy hadn’t wanted to push him, and she hadn’t wanted to get in the way of him and Knox’s time together. Father and son needed each other, now more than ever. Or so she thought. Knox was determined to put her in the role of Grant’s maternal figure. As long as the boy didn’t mind it, Roxy loved it, and she’d told Knox that. Grant had one mother. Just because Callie was gone didn’t change that fact.
“Can I, Roxy?”
“Sure, sugar. But just one scoop and in a bowl. Don’t add sugar with a fucking cone.” she answered.
He laughed. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m not going to be much longer, baby,” she promised.
“Okay, I’ll be here. Dad has a big surprise for you, too, so hurry up.”
“I can’t wait to see what it is,” she said honestly, her mind running away with all types of possibilities.
Maybe, they’d make love? Now that Roxy and Knox had made up, not only was he sticking to learning how to ride and getting a tattoo but he was also adhering to Mortician’s dictate that they live separately until the wedding. Roxy suspected it had a lot to do with the camaraderie he was finding with the guys. The riding lessons were one big party.
“Um, Roxy, what size is your ring finger?” Grant blurted.
Roxy went on alert. “A size seven. Why?”
He gasped. “Oh! Uh, no reason. Gotta go! Bye, Roxy.”
Chuckling as she disconnected, Roxy wondered if that meant what she thought it did. Had Knox really replaced her engagement ring? She knew the sentimental value his great-great grandmother’s ring held for the Harrington family.
“Momma, is everything okay?” Bailey called.
Roxy turned and waved to her daughter, who stood on the running board to look over the SUV.
“Kendall still hasn’t answered the door,” she responded.
A moment of guilt hit Roxy. If she hadn’t been so wrapped up in her wedding plans, then her breakup, then wedding plans again, she would’ve been giving Kendall more time. She hadn’t visited the girl at her new house once. Her behavior toward Kendall was a crying shame.
“Have you tried knocking?” Bailey asked as she bounded up the steps and onto the porch. She went to the door and turned the knob.
Finding it unlocked, they gained entry. Shocked, Roxy and Bailey frowned at each other.
“Wait, baby.” Marching back to her Navigator, Roxy grabbed her purse and pulled out her pink gun. Maybe, Kendall hadn’t been answering because she couldn’t.
“Oh my God, Momma!” Bailey cried, when Roxy joined her on the porch again, gun in hand. “Put that away. Let me call Lucas.”
“You call Mortician, while I find Kendall.”
“Mama!”
Ignoring Bailey, Roxy went into the house. She barely saw the décor in her worry.
“Kendall?” she called, her gun cocked, loaded, and raised. “Where are you, sugar?”
No answer.
An eerie feeling rushed over Roxy at the silence.
“Kendall!”
Holding her gun with both hands to make sure her grip was good, Roxy went from room-to-room, but found no one or nothing that looked out of the ordinary.
Except something was. She felt it in her bones, in the hairs standing up on her skin, and the goosebumps traveling along her spine.
She reached the entrance hall again and stopped at the bottom of the staircase. “KENDALL!”
“Momma, Lucas is on his way,” Bailey said, a touch of fear in her voice.
They looked at each other, then up the staircase. It seemed a long, lonely trek to the second floor, when it was no bigger than any other staircases Roxy had seen.
“Stay here and wait for Mortician,” Roxy instructed, starting up the stairs.
Bailey’s hand on her forearm halted her. “Momma, wait. It might not be safe.”
“Trust me. I’m going to shoot first and ask questions later.”
Before Bailey could protest any further, Roxy barreled upstairs, ready to keep her promise.
All the doors were closed, except one at the end of the hallway.
Still gripping her gun, Roxy crept forward, her sense of dread growing.
When she walked into the room, she found it was the master bedroom. Kendall’s purse lay abandoned on the floor, next to her pumps. Sheets of paper and pens were scattered on her bed.
Light streamed from another opened door, drawing Roxy. The first thing her gaze landed on was a sheet of paper on the counter, next to an opened prescription bottle. Her gaze went to the floor.
For a moment, she thought she was imagining things. She was taking in everything so fast. Then, the scene registered.
Kendall on the floor, convulsing and foaming at the mouth, pills and medicine bottles all around her.
“Oh, no! No! No, no, no. Kendall, baby! No!”
Dropping to her knees, Roxy crawled to Kendall and gathered her in her arms.
“BAILEY!” she screamed, sobbing and shaking. “BAILEY!”
“Momma, what…?”
“Oh my god!” Bailey cried. “I’m going to call an ambulance.”
“Hold on, sugar,” Roxy pleaded through her tears.
Kendall had stilled. Somehow, Roxy didn’t dissolve into hysterics. She didn’t even remember setting her gun down. She only knew it wasn’t in her hands. Holding onto Kendall, she willed her to have the strength to survive, when it seemed she hadn’t had the will to live.
He would never forget Johnnie’s screams, filled with horror and grief and shock. They’d drawn Christopher from his office and made him rush down the hall, through the crowd, and toward the sound, his gun out.
The entire clubhouse had been thrown into momentary chaos, with brothers drawing whatever weapons they carried.
When Christopher reached Johnnie’s room, he’d found the door unlocked, so he’d gone in. It was then that Christopher realized that Johnnie had been yelling Kendall’s name.
His eyes wild, he’d grabbed Christopher. “She coded,” he sobbed. “They don’t know if they can save her.”
Shoving his nine back where he’d taken it from, Christopher tightened his hands on Johnnie’s arms. The motherfucker wasn’t making sense. “What the fuck you mean? Who the fuck coded?”
“Kendall,” Johnnie managed. “Roxanne f-found her. She…they went…Kendall didn’t show up…Kendall overdosed.”
His sentences were all over the place.
“She coded,” he repeated, through his tears, loud and broken-hearted. He started to shake.
“Johnnie, listen to me,” Christopher ordered, holding his face between his hands so the motherfucker would focus. “You gotta pull yourself together.”
Hearing the words falling from his own lips, Christopher pushed aside any regret he might’ve felt. But he knew his statement meant nothing. When Megan was ill or missing, he could never pull himself together.
“Ima getcha to the hospital.”
“She’s always been so fragile. I knew…that’s why…I knew what I was doing. I-I…she’s like a Dresden Doll, beautiful to look at, seemingly sturdy, but undeniably delicate.”
That’s what Christopher had counted on. Seeing Johnnie’s heartache, though, gave him pause. Made him wish Kendall hadn’t been such a psycho cunt, who despised Megan and wanted to beat up CJ. His remorse was on Johnnie’s behalf. He loved the motherfucker, and hated to see him so devastated.
Christopher pulled him to the bed and shoved him onto it,
then grabbed the whisky from his nightstand and handed it to him. Johnnie drank deeply, nearly finishing the bottle.
“Ima drive you to the fuckin’ hospital but you gotta stay fuckin’ calm. Hear me?”
Johnnie nodded.
“Lemme get my keys. Ima call Megan on the way to the fuckin’ hospital.”
“’Law!”
The crowd in the hallway muffled CJ’s little voice. He didn’t want his boy seeing Johnnie in such a condition, so he turned on his heel and walked out. The brothers separated to allow Christopher passage.
“’Law!” CJ wailed again, panic in his voice.
Reaching CJ, who stood sobbing near the bar, Christopher ran to him and lifted him into his arms.
“CJ—”
“Where MegAnn?” he asked around sniffles. “Diesel not home yet from work. We was scared.”
“What the fuck you mean Megan ain’t home? And Diesel not there? Where Bunny? Who was home with you, Rebel, and your brothers?”
“Me,” he cried.
“Son—” Christopher drew in a deep breath, then grabbed his phone and dialed Digger’s number.
“I’m here, Outlaw,” Digger said, walking in and carrying Rebel while holding Rule’s hand. Behind him, Bunny pushed Marcus and Ransom in a double stroller. Ryder was in a sling, attached to her.
“Where Megan?” Christopher demanded, taking Rebel into his arms when Digger handed her to him. With CJ on one side and his girl on the other, he walked to his table and set them on their feet. “Where the fuck my wife? Bunny, where the fuck Megan? Why the fuck you ain’t been with my kids?”
“Meggie didn’t come to the fitting,” Bunny answered.
All types of scenarios going through his head, Christopher sat and took Ryder into his arms when Bunny handed him over.
“We didn’t know what to do, Outlaw,” Bunny sniffled. “We were halfway home when Bailey called.”
“I told Zoann to drop Bunny off at the McDonald’s they was near,” Digger explained. “Zoann went to where Roxy and Bailey was.”
Before Christopher replied, the door opened and Megan walked in, pausing at the crowd of people.
“What’s happened?” she breathed, her eyes widening.
Fear, relief, and guilt combined within Christopher, creating a toxic brew that needed to escape.
“Where the fuck you been?”
She walked to the table, close enough for him to see how swollen her fingers had gotten again and how puffy her face was. “I need to talk to you, Christopher.”
“I ain’t told Krag and the other motherfuckers to follow you cuz you was supposed to be with Bailey, Bunny, Bitsy, Roxanne and the rest of them.”
She looked at her feet. “I need to talk to you,” she repeated.
Under the circumstances that just wasn’t good enough. She didn’t even seem to know that Kendall might be fucking dead.
“What the fuck wrong with you, Megan?” Christopher yelled, furious that she’d left the premises again without an escort. But, more than that, enraged that shit was spiraling so fucking far out of control. Besides, Karma was a motherfucking bitch. With Johnnie’s bitch fucking herself up because…well, fuck. Who the fuck knew why she’d over-fucking-dosed. It might not have had anything to do with Christopher’s schemes.
Yet, he’d been planning Kendall’s demise for weeks. He was so fucking angry and he wasn’t sure why. However, if he hadn’t been so angry, he would’ve thought better of addressing this in front of a captivated crowd, including their children and most of their family.
Barely aware that Bunny grabbed Ryder from him, Christopher stood from his seat, shoving the chair against the wall so forcefully it surprised him the motherfucking wood didn’t splinter into bits and pieces.
CJ slid from his seat and went to his Ma, stopping in front of her, turning around and folding his arms, and glaring at Christopher. He was too fucking mad to care.
“This ain’t like you at-fuckin-all,” he ranted. He stalked to her, unable to get as close as he wanted to because CJ stood in his way. “Bein’ so un-fuckin-concerned about your safety out of fuckin’ character for you, so what the fuck goin’ on?”
The smile she’d plastered on her face when he’d first posed his question, remained, frozen, as if she were an ice statue and her expression had been carved onto her face.
“Let’s talk about this in your office.”
“Fuck no,” Christopher snarled. He pointed at her. “I told your lil’ motherfuckin’ ass not to go a motherfuckin’ place off the premises without motherfuckers on your detail. What the fuck you did, though? Exactly what the fuck my ass told you not to do.”
Megan narrowed her eyes, another warning that he needed to back the fuck off. “Christopher, shut up. We can talk about this in private.” Her hand on her belly, she started to turn away from him.
CJ grabbed his Ma’s hand, guiding her toward the door.
Livid because he felt so helpless, Christopher placed his hand on Megan’s shoulder and yanked her back. She stumbled.
“Mommie!” CJ yelled. “’Law,” he said with a little boy growl.
Christopher raised a hand, stopping his son’s advance. “Shut the fuck up, boy. This between me and your Ma. Unless you want me to spank your motherfuckin’ ass, stand the fuck down.”
CJ halted in his tracks, his eyes widening. Tears rushed to them and his lower lip trembled. He sniffled. “’Law mean.”
“Don’t talk to CJ like that, Christopher,” Megan ordered, kneeling down next to their crying boy and drawing him into her arms, comforting him as only she could. She threw Christopher the evil eye. “If you’re angry with me, take it out on me, jerk.”
“Angry with you? Angry?” He gave a nasty laugh. “My ass furious, you lil’ pain-in-the-ass motherfucker. You was kid-fuckin-napped, baby. I almost lost my fuckin’ mind. What the fuck don’t you under-fuckin-stand ‘bout that?”
She whispered to CJ, pointed to his seat at the table, then got to her feet, as their boy ran and reseated himself. She came up to Christopher and laid her head on his chest.
“I love you and I’m sorry for worrying you. I’m not ignoring your feelings.” She huffed out a breath, then stood on her tiptoes as she tugged his head down.
Obediently, Christopher bent his ear next to her mouth, relishing her nearness, her scent. Her.
“I needed time to myself,” she said quietly.
“Krag and the other motherfuckers did you something?” he asked with suspicion.
She shook her head. “They’ve been respectful.”
“They ain’t got a fuckin’ choice if they wanna keep their tongues in their fuckin’ mouths and their fuckin’ brains in their fuckin’ heads.”
“They keep a distance because I’m Big Joe’s daughter. Or Snake’s sister. Or your wife. There’s a lot of formality that makes me feel so guilty that I’m dragging them all around when they have better things to do.”
Christopher straightened and glared at her. “First of fuckin’ all, they ain’t havin’ no better shit to do than guardin’ you.”
Unlike her, he wasn’t speaking in low tones.
“I grant only the motherfuckers I know layin’ down their lives for you the fuckin’ privilege of guardin’ you.”
“Can you lower your voice?” she asked. “That’s why I wanted us to talk in private.”
“Ain’t lowerin’ my voice, Megan. That mean, you gotta lower yours and my ass gettin’ a crook in my goddamn neck keepin’ it fuckin’ bent.”
“I have a lot to tell you. Can we go to—”
“No, we settlin’ this now,” he commanded. “Cuz next fuckin’ time you leave on your fuckin’ own, I’m lockin’ you the fuck up. Some-fuckin-where.” Any-fuckin-where as long as he knew she was safe.
She stiffened and gave him a look of death. “I have a headache and I’m very nauseated, so I’m going to let that comment go as I let your yelling at me and CJ go.”
For the first time ever, Christopher ig
nored her ailments. His day had turned into a living hell, sending him spiraling. Within minutes of seeing Johnnie so grief-stricken, he’d discovered Megan was once again missing. Megan as a corpse, whether he was finding her dead body or seeing her in a coffin, lived on the fringes of his mind, ready to haunt his nightmares. She’d had near-death experiences before, but this last time, she’d been kidnapped. Stolen.
“When you went to the Torps’ place and Spoon gotcha and you lost the baby, I kinda pulled the fuck away from you. It got fuckin’ bad between us, but when we made up, I promised you I ain’t ever fuckin’ doin’ that a-fuckin-gain. This motherfuckin’ time, Megan, you doin’ it to me.”
“I am not!” she said, raising her voice an octave. “What kind of mother would I be if I give in to my fears and cower behind closed doors?”
He thrust his face into hers. “A motherfuckin’ live one,” he gritted. “Just the fuckin’ way my ass wantcha to be.”
She reached for him. “Christopher—”
He grabbed her and shook her. “No! Don’t fuckin’ Christopher me, Megan. Stop actin’ like whatcha ain’t—stupid.” She’d always been goddamn hard-headed, though.
Even before her eyes darkened and her face reddened to devil color, Christopher’s words caught up to him and he tensed, preparing to have a pissed lil’ motherfucker on his hands.
Instead, her eyes wide, she hugged her stomach and released a torrent of vomit onto his chest.
Before Christopher reacted, Megan swayed and placed her hands on his chest to steady herself.
“Megan, baby, what’s—”
“Christopher.” She paused, drawing in a deep breath. “I’m losing the baby,” she managed, then went limp in his arms.
Halting in the door of the waiting room, Knox watched as Roxanne allowed Johnnie to sob on her shoulder, her own tears sliding down her cheeks. He felt like an intruder, and interloper, given his role in the current situation.
It surprised Knox to see Zoann sitting in one of the chairs, Val next to her. Her attention stayed on Johnnie and Roxanne, and Knox figured Zoann was there more to support them, than because of any sorrow toward Kendall.
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