Not in the mood to argue, Kendall took the phone. The screen was locked, but she tested his old code, surprised to find it still worked. Finding the conversation with Emily was easy, since Johnnie didn’t send texts very often.
The texts Kendall read from Johnnie’s phone between him and Emily were vastly different than the texts Kendall had read on Emily’s phone. She’d been relentless in her pursuit of Johnnie, even apologizing to him for tormenting Kendall and swearing she’d grown out of such petty behavior. She’d begged to meet Rory, JJ, and Matilda. Wanted them to take their relationship farther, describing in graphic detail what she intended to do to him.
“Her messages are completely different, Johnnie.”
“Did she tell you I went to her place to kill her on your behalf?”
Eyes widening, Kendall’s gaze flew to his.
“When I discovered her real identity.”
Kendall set the phone on the bed. “You still went with her after you found out who she was.”
“I did, and there’s no excuse for that, sweetheart.”
“There isn’t,” Kendall agreed, though his explanation soothed her hurt and turmoil.
“I kissed her once, just to see if I could ever be with her if you and I ever divorced. There was nothing there, Kendall. My heart belongs to you.”
She could hold onto bitterness and grudges or she could turn over a new leaf and forge a new chapter with Johnnie and their kids.
He sat in the chair near her bed and leaned forward. “I love you. Very much. I want our marriage to work. I realize we have a long road ahead of us. We need intensive counseling. We need parenting classes. You should take time off from being an attorney to see to your mental health.”
“The prospect of reclaiming my career didn’t excite me as much as I thought it would,” Kendall admitted. “It felt empty without you and the kids. Meggie…Roxy.”
“It was Roxanne who found you,” Johnnie said gruffly, taking her hand and kissing it. “She was so devastated.”
“Roxy found me?” Kendall whispered.
“You weren’t answering your phone and you didn’t show up to the fitting. She said she felt as if something was wrong.”
“She does love me,” Kendall said in awe, crying.
“I do, too,” Johnnie repeated. “Or is this it for us? Do you think we’d be better off apart?”
“I love you so much and I’ve been so lost without you.”
“But?”
“I’m not well inside.” She swiped at her tears. “And I’m not Meggie.”
Johnnie got to his feet, bent and kissed her. “I don’t want you to be Megan,” he swore. “I’ve been so unworthy of you. I’ve wronged you in so many different ways.”
“No more than I’ve done to you,” she admitted.
Kissing her forehead again, Johnnie straightened and walked to the foot of the bed. “We both have to make changes. Real, true changes, not just words we blow out of our asses. I have made arrangements for you to be moved to an in-house mental facility.” He glanced away. “And I’m also thinking about going nomad once you’re released.”
“Nomad? Why?”
“I wouldn’t have ties to a particular chapter, but if I’m needed, I could be called upon. If I want to attend meetings, I could go wherever in the world we happened to be that has a chapter. You don’t like club life.”
“I thought I didn’t like club life, but I missed our family so much. The weekly get-togethers. The way you guys nitpick at each other. The closeness. Their acceptance.”
“They won’t accept you back into the fold easily,” Johnnie warned. “You’re going to have to earn their trust again.”
“I know.”
“You also have to cut ties with Charlotte,” Johnnie ordered.
Kendall frowned. “I do?”
“I can’t stand that bitch. She’s a terrible influence on you. Besides, she doesn’t like Roxanne.”
For the first time since she’d awakened, Kendall smiled. “Okay.”
He met her gaze. “We have a long road to go, Kendall, but I believe in us. We can get there and be stronger for it. If you do your part, I’ll do mine.”
She nodded.
“I’ve rehired Ella to look after the kids. She’s back at our house on the compound. You’re still barred from the grounds, but I’m going to talk to Christopher about that. When you’re released after your stay in the wellness facility, I’d like to bring you home.”
“How long will I have to stay?”
“That’s up to Dr. Briscow to determine, but normal stay time is about six months.”
“Suppose I feel better after three?”
“You’ll still stay the entire six, unless the doctor says otherwise. My guess is she won’t.”
The implacability in his tone matched the stubborn set of his jaw. For awhile now he’d been changing. She just had to recall the spanking he'd given her to remind her of how he’d gotten control of the situation and didn’t intend to let go.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Once the nurse checked Kendall out and placed a call to her doctor, Johnnie left Roxanne in Kendall’s room, watching over her as she slept. Kendall looked at peace, though her face was drawn. But her hair, always so vibrant, stood out against the white of the sheets. To Johnnie, she was as beautiful as ever.
A part of him still felt doubt about the future of their marriage. He hoped this was the wakeup call they both needed.
Johnnie couldn’t begin to express his gratefulness that Kendall had survived. Since Digger had rushed him to the hospital to be at her side, Johnnie hadn’t left. Earlier today, Mortician had delivered Johnnie’s Navigator, visited Kendall—though she hadn’t awakened yet—then returned to Hortensia with Val, who’d followed Mortician to the hospital.
Having his SUV at his disposal came in handy now. Once he slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, he texted Christopher to let him know Kendall had awakened.
In response, Christopher sent a thumbs-up.
At first, Christopher and Megan’s absence had outraged him, until Johnnie had discovered the reason why. He and Christopher had kept in contact via text, neither of them willing to leave their women to check on the other’s wife.
Johnnie set his phone aside, opened his glove compartment, checking for extra bullets. If he needed them. He hadn’t decided how he’d kill Emily.
Discovering Kendall’s heartache over bullshit texts sent ice cold rage through Johnnie. He had one goal in mind. If he had to spend the rest of his life hunting Emily down, he would.
Enough was enough. Emily should’ve been killed ages ago. He was so fucking disappointed in himself that he hadn’t come to that conclusion before then. Turning his radio to his favorite country station, Johnnie whistled to a couple of songs as he drove to Emily’s place.
When he arrived, he found a parking spot, grabbed the extra bullets for the Glock he carried at all times, then headed up the iron steps to her second-floor apartment.
The neighborhood was run-down and riddled with signs of lawlessness. Graffiti scrawled on buildings. A corner store where men loitered. The scent of piss and alcohol ruining the air. Loud music and raucous laughter rising all around him.
The thin door allowed him to hear the heavy breathing emanating from the other side. He hated to be a spoilsport, of course, but some fucking things couldn’t be helped.
Adrenaline pouring though him, Johnnie kicked the door in, satisfied when it flew open underneath the pressure of his boots. Emily, naked and flushed, jumped off the lap of a motherfucker.
“Who the fuck are--?”
The shot to his head stopped the fucker cold. Emily screamed and scrambled to her feet, tripping backwards.
“Johnnie! What are you doing?” she cried, terror in her eyes. “You k-killed him.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Johnnie said cordially. “Did I? Maybe, he isn’t dead.”
Firing three more times in quick succession, Johnnie shot
the nameless motherfucker until he was also faceless, wild with bloodlust, appeased at Emily’s sobs and pleas.
“I’m calling the cops,” Emily cried, grabbing her cell phone from the table that stood in front of the sofa where the faceless corpse slumped.
Johnnie reached her in three strides and yanked the phone from her hand, grabbing her throat. Her nudity seemed poetic justice. She’d leave the world in the same fucking way she came in.
“Why the fuck did you lie to Kendall?” he asked, not truly interested in her answer. He didn’t give a fuck about her reasons.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Emily gasped out, attempting to pry his hand from around her neck. “What did I lie to Kendall about?”
“Fuck you,” he snarled through clenched teeth, shaking her. “You showed her those fucking phony texts.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I swear! Just c-calm down and talk to me.”
“You’re a goddamn liar,” he said, losing patience. The club’s policies were not to harm or kill women. That was the reason he was talking to her, trying to wring a confession from her.
He still intended to kill her, so who gave a fuck about a confession.
Shoving his gun back into his pocket, Johnnie wrapped both hands around Emily’s neck and met her terrified gaze. She struggled for a couple of minutes, until the effects of oxygen deprivation claimed her. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she went limp. He released her and let her smack the floor.
He wasn’t sure if she twitched or if he imagined the movement. Not wanting Emily alive to ever torture Kendall again, he drew his gun, stood over her, and fired two shots into her head, smiling at the spray of blood.
His task done, Johnnie took Emily’s phone from where it had fallen. He’d bring it to Stretch so they could find the messages Kendall spoke of. After collecting the spent shell casings, Johnnie walked out of the apartment and closed the half-broken door behind him. He made it back to his SUV, started the engine, and backed out of his spot.
A popular song started playing on the radio. Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, Johnnie whistled, and headed back to the hospital to be at Kendall’s side.
Hands shoved into his pockets, Christopher stared at Axel as he lay in the omnibed, a combination incubator and radiant warmer that helped his frail, little body stay alive, along with all types of tubes, drips, and monitors. He wasn’t allowed to hold his son and the baby had a host of medical problems, yet he was a micro-preemie, too small and fragile to undergo any procedures.
His boy might have lifelong complications all because Christopher wanted Megan pregnant. Yeah, she’d gotten filled with his kid before his dick snip flip, but, maybe, the results would’ve been the same even if it had been afterwards.
There’d been a reason he’d gotten the fucking snip in the first fucking place. He hadn’t been able to rest because he’d grown more and more concerned each time she got pregnant. Then he’d had the bright goddamn idea to change his fucking mind.
His girl and his kid was paying for it.
Johnnie was suffering too because of Christopher. He shouldn’t have played the games he had with Kendall. He shouldn’t have rewarded her with a house or a law firm or anything. He should’ve fucking made her disappear and been done with it. Then, he wouldn’t have had to hear Johnnie’s screams of grief. He wouldn’t have felt a smidgeon of guilt. Not for Kendall but for Johnnie.
And Axel.
And Megan.
All for Christopher’s sins.
“Prez?”
A moment after Slipper called him, the scent of the man hit his nose. It was fucking funny that he hadn’t paid attention to the motherfucker’s smell the past two days. Now, though, the rancid fuckhead had the odor of skunk pussy. Bear dick. Fish ass. Some un-fucking-fathomable aroma that made Christopher want to punch the fuck out of Slipper.
“Ima go back to my girl room,” he growled. “Stay the fuck away from her, Slipper. I ain’t wantin’ you to smother Megan from your goddamn stink.”
Slipper’s bloodshot eyes lit up. “Meggie wake?”
“No.”
“Oh.” Slipper drew his bushy brows together. “You want me to go take a shower before I tell you about Krag?”
“My fuckin’ nose would really fuckin’ appreciate that shit, but since I wanna know why the fuck this motherfucker ain’t got his ass up here yet, Ima fuckin’ give you a pass. Just remember to wash your fuckin’ ass when you get home.”
Slipper nodded. “You got it, Prez.”
“Talk, motherfucker.”
“Me and my boy, Orange, was wondering the same thing. Krag and those boys Meggie’s guards. They need to be here. We decided to investigate. We went to the club and found those motherfuckers there. At the fucking bar, Prez.”
Christopher grunted. “I guess Ima give the motherfuckers a pass this time. They was probably drinkin’ to get over them bein’ so upset about Megan.”
“No, Outlaw,” Slipper said with a shake of his head. “They was laughing at the way she’d gone into seizures. They was saying they hoped she died, so they wouldn’t have to bitch sit her anymore. They said they didn’t know what had gotten into you, giving them the duties to guard your cumbag.”
Christopher stared at Slipper, the rage suffusing him making sweat pop out.
“Where them motherfuckers at now?”
Slipper shrugged.
Drawing in a deep breath to control his anger, Christopher gazed through the window at Axel again. He needed to check on Megan, then he’d deal with those almost-dead motherfuckers.
“Don’t say nothin’ to them, Slipper,” Outlaw instructed. “Ima handle it.”
“The way they was talking about Meggie was such a shame.”
Gritting his teeth, Christopher raised his head. “Yeah, it fuckin’ was. Thank you for comin’ to me about this.”
“We like Meggie.”
“I know, brother,” Christopher responded, so wound up that his fucking eye jumped.
He stared at Axel a moment longer, then walked in the direction of the elevators. Once he reached Megan’s floor, he went to her room, pulled the chair close to her, then laid his head against her thigh. She had almost as many tubes as Axel, and it broke Christopher’s heart.
She’d had low platelets, a swollen liver, and sky-high blood pressure. She had so many other ailments that he couldn’t remember them all. Delivery of the baby was the most effective way to get her back to normal, but she’d also needed a transfusion and doses of magnesium sulfate. Since delivering Axel, Megan’s pressure had dropped but it was still elevated. She was still in as much danger as their son.
How many times had Megan been in this position and how many times it was because of his actions or something he was involved in?
Long before he’d met Megan, he’d had his share of injuries. They’d be taken care of at the clubhouse or in the back room of a doctor’s office whose staff was in their back pocket. When Christopher started the medical lab, he also felt it was of the utmost importance to build relationships with the local hospital. Couldn’t make money if doctors didn’t send patients to the labs for piss, shit, and blood samples.
Hortensia General had been the logical choice to build the closest ties with, although the club also associated with other hospitals in surrounding towns. If Christopher had known what an important role the place would play in his family life, he would’ve doubled his yearly donations.
Fuck, if he’d known how much motherfucking time he’d spend there, he would’ve had a goddamn suite built just for them.
Fingers glided through his hair and Christopher stilled, afraid he was imagining her touch. He felt the same light caress again.
Sitting up, he gazed in his wife’s direction. Groggy blue eyes stared at him.
“Megan,” he whispered, praying he wasn’t dreaming.
Unable to talk because of the ventilator, she nodded.
He reached over and pressed the nurse’s button,
wanting to kiss and hug her, but knowing he couldn’t.
She might’ve been just a slip of a thing, but she was a fighter, and for that, Christopher was grateful.
Three days later, Christopher walked into Meggie’s room and stopped in his tracks.
“The ventilator gone,” he whispered, emotion playing across his handsome face.
“Hey, you,” she said hoarsely, smiling at him, though it hurt to talk.
He’d been gone no more than ten minutes. It seemed as if he’d just left when the nurse came in to remove the tube. She’d probably been gone about two minutes before he’d walked back in.
She hadn’t had a chance to ask about her baby. Or what had happened to her. Or if she could have more kids. She didn’t know how long she’d been out. But before she bombarded her husband with questions, she enjoyed the feel of his lips against her own, dry ones.
Pulling away, he stared at her in awe, caressing her cheek. He lowered the bed railing and on the edge, wrapping his arms around her.
“Megan, baby, I’m so sorry. All the shit that happened all my fault.”
Memories of Patrick hit her, and she drew in a deep breath, tears rushing to her eyes. “Our baby died,” she managed around sobs.
“Huh…No! No, baby,” he said with gruffness, combing hair behind her ears. “No, Axel got a long fuckin’ battle, but he a fighter just like his Ma.”
“Axel?” Meggie asked.
Hesitating, Christopher nodded. “I ain’t even able to hold the lil’ motherfucker, so he probably ain’t knowin’ his name yet if you wanna change it. I just…” His voice trailed off and he shrugged.
Her tough, strong Christopher had such a vulnerable streak in him, sometimes still expecting to be rejected by someone he loved.
“I know you like those fuckin’ ‘R’ names. I coulda call his lil’ ass Ratchet, but motherfuckers might be thinkin’ the wrong reason we gave him that name. Not a lot of motherfuckers know a ratchet a fuckin’ tool.”
Meggie placed her lips over his. “I love it,” she croaked. “Axel is perfect.”
Nodding, he looked at her again and then grinned. “You sure?”
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