Misrule

by Kelly, Kathryn C.

“You stay fucking hungry,” Mortician complained.

  “What do you mean delay dinner, Digger?” Carissa called. “That would’ve ruined the shit. Personally, I couldn’t eat nothing if I saw a bitch killed.”

  Outlaw’s whistle stopped the arguing. “E-fuckin-nuff. Let’s sit the fuck down, so dinner can fuckin’ start.” He pointed to the musicians who were aghast. “If one of you motherfuckers play the fuckin’ bullshit I fuckin’ know you intendin’ to play, Ima break your fuckin’ fingers.”

  “Omigod, Christopher!”

  Meggie had healed completely and Axel, now three months old, had another week, at most, to stay in the hospital before he was released. He was small for his age, but hadn’t been harmed during the trauma of his birth.

  “Hal!” Joan cried. “Do something.”

  Outlaw crooked his finger at Meggie. Once she got to her seat and sat, he slid her forward.

  “Knox, come and see your groom cake,” Outlaw demanded.

  Knox’s eyes widened. “You got me a groom cake?”

  “My ass the bride family. Ain’t I’m supposed to do that?”

  “Don’t worry, Mort,” Digger said. “I got you covered.”

  Outlaw searched the room.

  “The cakes are in the kitchen,” Joan said tightly.

  “Bring them motherfuckers out here. What the fuck good they doin’ in the goddamn kitchen?”

  “So no one would see them,” Joan snapped.

  “The whole point of a fucking groom cake is for the shit to be seen before getting cut,” Pearllene said.

  Digger pointed at her. “What she said.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake!” Joan cried. “Do any of you have class?” She drew herself up and glared at Pearllene. “How old are you, madame?”

  Laughing nervously, Roxy rushed forward as Pearllene growled, “old enough to say what the fuck I want.”

  “Let me help you to your seat, Momma,” Roxy said, grabbing her mother’s arm and turning her toward a chair.

  “This the table you’re sitting at, huh, baby?” Pearllene asked.

  “Of course,” Roxy declared, squeezing her mother’s shoulder.

  “The cakes are on the way,” Hal announced as he returned to the salon. He placed his hand at the small of Joan’s back and guided her to the same table that Pearllene sat at.

  By the time everybody had seated themselves, two members of the kitchen staff each wheeled in a silver cart, containing cakes. Before Roxy had a chance to see Knox’s, he and Outlaw blocked her view by standing in front of the cart.

  Just as Mortician’s cake registered with Roxy, Carissa nudged her girlfriend, Liza, and screamed with laughter. “We know who the chocolate dick cake for!” she howled.

  “Did you have to make the motherfucker squirt cum?” Roxy asked, torn between amusement and annoyance.

  Joan threw stares of death to them, her dress and jewelry understated compared to the ostentatious display of wealth—lost wealth—Charlotte displayed.

  All the women were in various styles of white dresses, the color being Joan’s request. She’d demanded the men wear suits. Of course, Mortician and the rest of them didn’t comply because, according to them, they’d made enough concessions by agreeing to wear the fucking monkey suits for the wedding.

  Outlaw sauntered back to his table, while Knox stepped aside to reveal his cake. It was a golden money bag with a glittering dollar sign designed into the front, dripping coins and Benjamins. It leaned against a “bottle” of Knox’s favorite whisky and sat next to an open “wooden” humidor filled with cigars, a badge, and a motorcycle. The cake was a true masterpiece, with each segment so realistic she found it hard to believe it had started out as simple flour.

  “Okay, the grooms-to-be saw the fucking cakes,” Digger said. “Can we eat now?”

  “There will be nothing served until my musicians start to play,” Joan answered with smugness.

  “Aww, fuck.” Digger looked at Outlaw. “If Johnnie ruining the dinner for a minute by shooting Charlotte, you going to do the same thing. Can’t you plug your fucking ears with cigarettes and let the motherfuckers play?”

  “I got some weed paper,” Val offered. “That might be better, Outlaw.”

  Meggie glared between them. “He won’t need those, Val,” she said primly. “He won’t kill the flutist or pianist, so it’s fine for them to play.” She sniffed. “Right, Christopher?”

  Outlaw scowled at her, but Meggie didn’t back down. “Fuck, Megan, you lil’ pain-in-the-ass motherfucker, fine. Let the ear-hurtin’ motherfuckers play. But you might gotta give me an extra cock suck to calm me the fuck down.”

  “Can we eat please?” Digger demanded, before Meggie had a chance to respond.

  Joan stood. “I’ll ring the kitchen to bring out the first course.”

  “What is this shit?” Pearllene demanded, holding her fork in the air. Squid-ink covered linguine hung limply from the utensil.

  “Try it, Momma. It’s good,” Roxy encouraged.

  Her look skeptical, Pearllene sniffed it, then shoved it under her gentleman friend’s nose. “Taste this, Hamish. It smell like my chooney after you fucked it. Tell me if it taste like it.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Knox breathed, laying his fork against the plate as Roxy prayed the ground opened up and squished her like a fucking bug.

  Digger spat the noodles back onto the plate and glared at Pearllene. “I’m not interested in eating nothing that smell like your pussy,” he grouched. “Now if it was Bunny…”

  “Shut up, Mark,” Bunny ordered.

  “Miss Pearllene, you sure is right,” Hamish said. “Taste a lot like your chooney.”

  “Since when you started calling MeMe Miss Pearllene, Hamish?” Carissa demanded. She looked at Liza. “You ever heard him call her that, bae?”

  “He got to add miss to my goddamn name from now on. If I got to pay for a motherfucker plane ticket, then that motherfucker got to put a title to address me.”

  “Goddamn, you ruthless, old woman,” Mortician said, then smirked at Hamish. “Bet your ass sorry you didn’t hitch a ride on Sloane private jet.”

  Hamish shrugged. “Had a roof to finish.”

  “My Hamish a roofer,” Pearllene announced proudly.

  “I don’t take many jobs no more,” Hamish confessed. “After that fifth fall and I broke my leg again, I decided to be real selective, so my cash kind of low nowadays.”

  “As long as you got money for your Viagra, you just fine,” Pearllene reassured him.

  “Can we leave?” Knox begged, his face flaming.

  Too embarrassed to speak, Roxy nodded.

  Pearllene got to her feet, using her cane to brace herself. “You two not going nowhere until I toast you.”

  “That comes after the cake,” Charlotte inserted. “And only if you’re invited.”

  “Did I ask your ass, lady?” Peallene demanded. “And they hearing my toast whether they like it or not. If I hadn’t pushed Roxanne out my pussy, she wouldn’t—”

  “Okay!” Roxy cried, jumping to her feet and holding her hands up. “We get the point. “Just get on with the toast.”

  Pearllene smiled. “Thank you, baby.”

  Grabbing her glass of wine, she raised it, beaming between Knox and Roxy, and Mortician and Bailey.

  “Mortician, you a better grandson to me than the motherfucker that got my blood running through his veins. You got me out of a scape or two with no questions asked. When I call you for something, you never say it’s a problem. You just get it done. Because I’m Bailey MeMe, I’m yours, too. Thank you for looking after all of us so good and being the fine man you are. Congratulations on renewing your vows and the new baby that’ll be coming in late fall.” Pearllene blew a kiss to Bailey. “MeMe love you, Bailey.”

  Bailey stood and went to Pearllene, hugging her tightly. “I love you, too, MeMe,” she said, then released her and stepped aside so Mortician could take her place.

  “Come here, old woman
,” he said gruffly, bending down and hugging her.

  Pearllene’s hearty laugh filled Roxy with joy.

  “Chile, if I was just two hours younger, I think I’d have to give up the chooney to you,” Pearllene said around chuckles.

  Rolling his eyes, Mortician released her. “Two hours ago your ass was still the same age.”

  “Boy, don’t make me stick my foot up your ass. You know that was just me showing my wit.”

  “Yeah, man, okay.”

  Allowing Bailey to guide him away, Mortician offered Pearllene a last glower then took his seat.

  “Roxanne, my precious baby,” Pearllen started, aiming her raised glass in their direction. “Oooo, wait, shit. I forgot to drink on Mortician and Bailey toast. Rectifying that immediately, she smiled again and resumed her position. “Roxanne, my precious baby, I never, ever thought your ass would be marrying a fourth goddamn time, but since you are, I’m so happy for you. This time, I hope you get the shit right. I’m about tired of you finding the wrong motherfuckers.”

  “Knox isn’t the wrong man,” Roxy said with reassurance.

  “Congratulations, baby,” Pearllene said, not responding to Roxy’s statement as she turned to Knox. “I heard you haven’t got pussy from Roxanne in months, so I hope you not sticking you dick in no other bitch.”

  “Of course I’m not!” Knox said with indignation as Joan started to sob.

  “Can you shut your momma up?” Pearllene asked.

  “Oh, Joan, I understand,” Charlotte soothed, pushing out of her chair and rushing to Joan, guiding her to her feet. “Come. Let’s retire to the ladies’ room to calm you down.”

  “Momma, that was a beautiful toast,” Roxanne said once Joan and Charlotte were gone.

  “Sit down. I’m not finished.”

  “Fuck.” Huffing out a breath, Roxy drained her wine glass.

  “I got a little advice about bacon grease.”

  “Oh, fuck no!” Roxy jumped to her feet as the distant sound of sirens reached her. “Don’t even say it, Momma.”

  “Wait, I wanna hear,” Outlaw said.

  “No the fuck you don’t,” Roxy snapped.

  “Roxanne right, Prez,” Digger said. “I happen to like bacon and, if this conversation going in the direction I think it is, I won’t ever be able to chew on fried pig again.”

  “I didn’t say a fucking thing about bacon,” Pearllene said with a sniff. “I said bacon grease.”

  “You not getting the grease if you don’t fry the goddamn bacon,” Mortician huffed.

  A loud bang prevented a response. The boys all jumped to their feet, drawing their weapons and inserting themselves of front of their wives. Hamish slid under the table, then yanked Pearllene down. Knox stood in front of Roxy, drawing a weapon of his own, while Cam mirrored his actions with Jordan.

  “Drop your weapons!” an official-sounding voice commanded. “Now!”

  When the guys complied and raised their hands, a sinking feeling dropped into Roxy’s stomach. Standing, she saw members of SWAT aiming rifles in the direction of the tables.

  “What is the meaning of this, officer?” Hal demanded. “I’m Hal Harrington and this is my home where we are hosting a private event!”

  “I’m Lieutenant Mitchell, sir,” one of the officers said. “We’re here to arrest Knox Harrington on charges of gun smuggling.”

  Chapter Sixty

  With Outlaw not wanting to leave either Megan or Axel, and Amfinger pressuring Knox to step in to see the deal through, Knox had talked Outlaw into giving into Amfinger’s demands. He’d pointed out that Bailey was pregnant, so Mortician wouldn’t want to leave and Johnnie was busy helping Kendall, getting counseling of his own, and working on his marriage. Although Outlaw could’ve chosen any of the club members to go in his place, Amfinger said he’d be more comfortable negotiating with someone familiar to him. Outlaw, wrapped up in his family’s crisis, had agreed.

  After weeks of exchanges in the midst of riding lessons, completing his tattoos, and fittings, they’d reached a conclusion two weeks ago when Knox traveled to California to deliver suitcases filled with cash, in exchange for a truckload of light arms. Knox didn’t know how to drive a semi, so Cash had ridden into town to save the day.

  While Cash drove the truck back to Hortensia, Knox had to ride the motorcycle.

  “If you fuck up my ride, I’m going to fuck you up,” Cash had warned.

  Knox’s prevailing thought had been, in for a pound, in for a penny, so he’d snatched Cash’s helmet and told the man not to worry. At the time, he never would’ve admitted how nervous he’d been. His motorcycle skills had progressed tremendously since the first lesson, but he wasn’t sure how he’d fare riding hundreds of miles.

  As it turned out, he’d been just fine. It took three, grueling days to get back to the club. At night, Cash insisted they find a place to sleep. He hadn’t expected to rough it outside, but that’s what they’d done.

  Once they arrived back at the club, Knox wasn’t sure what had become of the guns, so how he’d ended up arrested for smuggling, while everyone else was released, he had no idea. It had been doubly humiliating because of the news crews and, then, seeing a few friends from the force when he’d arrived at the police station to be booked in.

  Sitting in the holding cell, burning with anger and embarrassment, Knox decided he needed to rethink the ceremony to Roxanne, due to take place, in less than twenty hours.

  Out of her mind with worry, Roxy directed the limousine driver to go to the police station where Knox was being held. The boys wanted her to pile into one of the limousines with all of them and head back to the club, but Roxy wouldn’t have been able to rest, so she declined. The guys were going exchange limousines for bikes, while the women would stay behind at the club.

  She couldn’t imagine what was happening. Knox had left for a business trip a couple of weeks ago. She hadn’t questioned him, but now, she wondered if he’d gone on behalf of the club.

  Knox knew how to stick his nose into biker business if it suited him. When she’d discovered his role in Kendall’s downward spiral, she’d been mad as hell. She’d stopped talking to him for two days, until Outlaw told her Knox wouldn’t have participated if he hadn’t threatened him if he didn’t assist.

  “Why the fuck didn’t Knox tell me that?”

  “Cuz I told the motherfucker I’d rip his fuckin’ tongue out if he opened his fuckin’ mouth.”

  She wasn’t sure if Outlaw’s explanation made sense. The man had too many resources to demand Knox’s help, but she hadn’t pointed that out. Instead, she and Knox had had a nice, long talk, where he promised he’d never fuck over one of her babies again.

  Gunfire shattered the limo’s windshield, striking the driver in the head. Blood splashed onto her and the car veered off the road.

  Roxy screamed, terrified, slamming into the seat in front of her and then crashing backwards as the loud noise of the car running into a tree filled the air.

  Immediately, smoke poured from under the ruined hood, flooding the air vents. Ignoring her dizziness and how banged up she felt, Roxy tried to open the doors on either side of her, but neither would budge.

  The first lick of flame rose in the night. Knowing she needed to keep calm, Roxy decided not to bother with kicking the doors in. She held her breath to block out the horrendous fumes, then braced herself on her elbows, using both feet and all her might to break the window glass. She’d expended almost all of her energy by the time the glass finally shattered. The flames were crawling from under the hood, beginning to consume the dashboard.

  Choking and knowing she had to launch herself out as soon as she broke the glass completely, since oxygen would only feed the fire, Roxy used her shoulder to finish the glass. Shards of glass stabbed into her, but she didn’t care. She knew she was alive. Face-first, Roxy shoved herself through the broken glass, landing hard on the ground. Refusing to give in, Roxy crawled as far away as she could from the burning car, seeki
ng refuge in foliage as the first explosion rocked the ground.

  A moment later, she managed to get to her feet and limp forward. One of her heels had broken, so she took both shoes off and tossed them away, wishing her phone hadn’t gotten blown up. But the fire behind her was growing and before the entire forest started to burn, she needed to get help.

  The rustle of leaves alerted her to movement. Fuck, she hoped that wasn’t a goddamn wild animal.

  The bright fire illuminated the area, so when a man she hadn’t seen in years stepped in front of her and raised a rifle, she knew who it was immediately.

  Joyner Amfinger.

  Arriving back at the club at five o’clock in the morning, Knox followed Brooks into the main room, finding a beehive of activity. Although Megan and Pearllene sat at Outlaw’s table, Zoann, Ophelia, Bailey, Carissa, Alexia and Bunny were serving food.

  Knox wanted to go to his room and sleep. He wanted to talk to Roxanne, see her face, and hug her. As embarrassed as he was, he decided not to make the mistake of calling off their wedding. He’d lose her forever this time and he’d never forgive himself.

  “You did what I’m payin’ your ass for, huh, Brooks?” Outlaw called.

  “Yes,” Brooks answered, not smiling. He’d been quiet during the entire ride back to the clubhouse, for which Knox was grateful. He hadn’t felt like talking.

  “You okay, Knox?” Outlaw asked.

  “Except for being tired from all the bullshit, I’m excellent,” Knox answered, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m too exhausted to demand an explanation from you about why I was the only one arrested.”

  “Ain’t givin’ a fuck if you was wide the fuck awake, ain’t got a explanation to give you. This shit as much a mystery to me.” He indicated everyone behind him. “But we fuckin’ findin’ out.”

  “Knox, why did you leave Momma outside?” Bailey asked, walking up to him, Outlaw, and Brooks.

  Knox frowned. “Roxanne isn’t here?”

  “What the fuck that mean?” Mortician demanded, joining them. “You fucking see her here?”