An Outlaw Valentine

by Kathryn Kelly

  “I know it’s a lot.”

  “Fuck, fine, Meggie. When you find my bullet-riddled body because your man went all psycho stalker on me, say a fucking prayer over me.” Mortician glowered at Johnnie. “Come on, motherfucker. I better not regret this. Because whatever the fuck sent you over the edge not solved, if I’m guessing right. Especially if it got to do with Red.”

  “Leave my wife out of this,” Johnnie said tightly.

  “Why? Red need a come-to-Jesus moment from you and one you mean. Not one you say to appease Prez or to make yourself feel like a fucking man. You need to stick to your goddamn guns. Red got good in her, but she like highbrow shit. In case you didn’t realize, we not highbrow motherfuckers. Until you give her the life she want—or tell her to accept the life she have—she’s going to be getting into shit that fuck with everybody.”

  “Everyone always blames Kendall. What about Megan? Christopher judges Kendall by the perfection he sees in Megan.”

  “The fuck he do,” Mortician shouted. “You judge Red by what you see in Meggie. Red not Meggie, motherfucker. Meggie one of us. She cool and easy-going. Red not. She need opera and art shows and being on committees. She need her fucking career. You want a chick to be happy running your house and making your home happy and a place everybody want to be, you should’ve fucking married another bitch.”

  Johnnie hung his head. “But I love Kendall,” he said in a teary voice.

  Mortician squinted. “Aww, man, I know your bitch ass not about to boohoo up in this motherfucker.”

  Meggie snapped her brows together, shocked at the watery streaks on Johnnie’s cheeks.

  “She hates me, though. She’s trying to get me killed.”

  “Red not trying to get your dumb ass killed, Johnnie,” Mortician said in disgust. “She trying to make herself happy.” He rubbed his brow. “What the fuck she did now?”

  “She wants to take a case,” Johnnie said on a sniffle. “Christopher will kill me. How the fuck can Kendall do this to me?”

  “If you haven’t figured this out yet, you never will,” Mortician said. “Now, bring your crying ass downstairs and pick up that shit in the kitchen. When I saw your Glock on the counter, and the mess all over, I knew you did something fucked up.” He turned to Meggie. “Pull yourself together. After I erase the footage and put this motherfucker out, we’ll put our heads together and find a way to work this out.”

  Meggie nodded. Mortician was one of Christopher’s best friends, and once again, he’d help her to protect her husband from his own sense of honor.

  “Mommie!” CJ yelled, barreling into the room and skidding to a halt.

  She smiled at him, afraid to talk. But he was blinking, studying her, Johnnie and Mortician. “Can you give me a minute, buddy?” It hurt to talk.

  At the rough sound of her voice, CJ’s eyes widened.

  “Wait for me in the hallway,” she managed. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  She never asked him to leave her presence, so it surprised her when he left without a fuss.

  “We so fucked,” Mortician mumbled.

  Not commenting, Johnnie stalked away.

  Meggie stumbled toward the bathroom to clean herself up, wondering how she’d manage to hide this from her husband.

  Kendall traced the outline of what looked like fingers—Christopher’s fingers as she’d led Johnnie to believe. He’d left two light marks on her neck, but she’d come home and used her own hands to make it seem as awful as it had the last time. Now, dark bruises lay against the backdrop of her pale skin.

  It had been very effective in garnering Johnnie’s attention during their video chat. Her husband had been beyond pissed. She was sure the emotion of believing he’d almost lost her—again—would work to do what the drugs hadn’t so far.

  She thought about the night in the diner during the meeting with Randolph. She’d been so fucking scared she’d accidentally overdosed Johnnie. For a day and a half, he’d been so sick, and she’d shed bitter tears. If she lost him, she’d lose her heart.

  Why did he have to be so goddamn stubborn? They were husband and wife. They should’ve been partners-in-crime. All he needed to do was give in and tell her she could take Randolph’s case. It would be their secret. But, no. He went along with the club’s rules, loyal to them instead of her.

  She turned her head from side-to-side, smiling at how awful her neck looked. When she garnered Johnnie’s sympathy, he gave her anything she wanted. Hopefully, her husband would beat Christopher to the ground.

  Her smile faded.

  Christopher had frightened her half to death, but she refused to let that asshole know it. As usual, he stopped. It didn’t matter what she did. He’d always pull back because of Johnnie. Killing her would destroy her husband. Christopher, the ignorant fucker, was loyal, if nothing else.

  She hadn’t meant to lie to Christopher about Meggie’s plans for the ball she wanted to throw. But the man annoyed her to no end. And she tried, she really, truly tried to fit in with the other women. It was hard not to feel envy, especially toward Meggie.

  All the other women had husbands who listened to them. Hers always disregarded her.

  She scowled. Everyone always said she needed to learn how to be a friend, a mother, a this, a that. What about Johnnie? He should figure out how to be a husband.

  Someone should tell him to stop comparing her to Meggie. Of course, what could she expect? The dummy had actually asked Meggie to plan Kendall’s wedding.

  Meggie.

  Megan Caldwell. Of all people.

  Perfect, petite, golden cunt, Meggie, whom Johnnie would sacrifice himself over before he touched a hair on her head.

  Johnnie exhibited more jealousy when Christopher made his crass comments about fucking Meggie on top of a fucking refrigerator—or some impossible place that Kendall would never fit—than he did when Kendall came on to Christopher.

  At least, that asshole reacted to her teases, which was now little more than a game to her to get someone to see her, even if it was Christopher.

  Admitting she had been attracted to that idiot and that she did want to fuck him shamed her. For that alone, she should’ve had her pussy ripped out. She hated that asshole for treating her like she wasn’t worth dirt and she disliked his coarse ignorance.

  Winning his acceptance would never happen. It always ended in disaster. Besides Roxy, the one person who accepted Kendall for who she was, was Meggie, and she was the woman Kendall resented most of all.

  Meggie reminded her of her childhood nemesis, Emily.

  Meggie represented the perfection Johnnie judged Kendall by.

  Kendall swiped at a renegade tear, and set her jaw.

  Maybe, her attraction to Christopher was what she needed to soothe her hurt. If Johnnie wanted Kendall to act like Meggie, why couldn’t he show the blind devotion that Christopher did?

  That point was always lost in translation. She was just Kendall, the joke of the club. The crazy one.

  If she had something—loyalty from Johnnie, friends not connected to the club, her career—she could overlook a lot. She’d feel better about herself. Accomplished.

  She probably could get along with the women, if she had her career. What didn’t Christopher or Johnnie understand about her being a working woman?

  All the medicine in the world…all the therapy…would never work on her as long as she was so unhappy deep inside of herself. It was one case. Johnnie could stick up for her in this instance. Even if he had to keep it hidden from Christopher. He could be on her side. One way or the other, however, he always left her out in the cold.

  She leaned against the vanity, thinking back on the past few weeks, what he’d forced her to do to him. Once he recovered and she realized he’d be okay, she started adding smaller doses of a different drug, to his drinks. It still hadn’t done any good, so for past two nights, she’d made him sleep somewhere else.

  Her meds made her complacent and compliant—agreeable. She’d been
so sure they’d do the same for her stubborn husband. Except for making him sick, affecting their sex life and agitating him, she’d achieved nothing.

  This morning, she’d waited a bit before going into the dining room and giving him an ultimatum. Either he allow her to work the case or she’d never talk to him again.

  He’d walked out. The pills still hadn’t worked.

  Now, though, she had leverage. Christopher had played right into her hands.

  The bathroom door opened, and she lifted her head, ready to give her best performance of a frightened woman. Instead, her husband came into focus—his battered and bloody face.

  “What happened to you?” she cried, rushing to him and lifting her hand to touch his face. She hesitated, not wanting to hurt him further. Christopher’s visage rose in her head. “That fucking asshole!” she fumed. “Why did Outlaw hit you?”

  “It wasn’t Christopher,” Johnnie said, sounding strange, almost shell-shocked.

  Kendall’s mind whirled. She worked her throat, trying to find words. Johnnie’s handsome face had cuts and abrasions, scratches and bruises. She took his swollen hand, noticing his bloody knuckles, and guided him into their room, gently encouraging him to sit on the edge of their bed.

  “I’m going to get blood on your clothes,” he said dully.

  She frowned. “So?”

  He stared at her, not blinking, not glancing away. The look in his eyes chilled her and she stepped back. He looked dangerous. Deadly.

  He took her hand in his and kissed her palm. “Do you love me, sweetheart?”

  What was going on? Of course, she loved him. Johnnie was her everything. How could he question her feelings? Ordinarily, she’d demand answers. Confront him. Challenge him.

  Not now. This wasn’t her Johnnie. This was a cold shell of a man. A killer.

  Oh, dear God! This was the result of drugging him.

  “Do you?” he rasped.

  She nodded, her heart pounding. In all the years she’d known him, she’d never been afraid of Johnnie. A time or two, Christopher had put the fear of God into her. But not her husband. Never him.

  He pulled her next to him and caressed her nipple, massaging it to a hard point, despite the top and bra she wore. “Say the words.”

  “I-I love you. Johnnie,” she whispered.

  He touched the bruises on her neck, and gave her an icy smile. “Mortician.”

  She was almost afraid to ask. “Mortician what?” she questioned, doing as she knew he wanted.

  “Beat me like this.”

  “Oh.” She cleared her throat and drew her brows together.

  His pupils dilated. “Ask me why.”

  “Why?” she breathed, goosebumps raising on her skin at the chill in his voice.

  “I was strangling Megan,” he announced in a matter-of-fact tone.

  “What?” she gasped, nearly falling back, glad she was seated.

  A gleam entered his eyes. “Christopher put his hands on you. I returned the favor with his wife.”

  “What?” she echoed, unable to think of another word. Her breath burst out in short pants. At any minute, she would faint. Not killing her to keep Johnnie happy was one thing. On the other hand, Outlaw wouldn’t hesitate to kill them all behind Meggie. “He’s g-going to k-kill you,” she managed. “I thought you loved her! How could you do that to someone you claim to adore?”

  The words hung between them. Real tears threatened. She didn’t need an answer. Her actions had led to his. Fear, worry, and shame converged inside of her. If Johnnie survived this, she’d never slip him any of her medication again.

  Johnnie caressed her cheek and gave her a half smile. “I love you,” he said in that cold, distant tone. “Is that it, Kendall? You don’t believe me? Is that why you don’t have a second thought of going against Christopher’s rules and risking my life?”

  Oh my God! He’d sentenced himself to death because of her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and sobbed against his shoulder. “Johnnie, please. I’m so very sorry. I swear I’ll do whatever you want me to. But we have to leave before Christopher finds out. He’s going to kill you. We have to go. Withdraw as much cash as possible and flee.”

  “No. We’re staying. Megan’s handling it. As always. Sweet, sweet Megan.”

  Any other time, Kendall would’ve taken umbrage, but the sneer in his voice spoke volumes. She wanted the old Johnnie back. She didn’t like this version of him. And it was all her fault.

  “We owe her a debt,” she rushed out. “She saved you.”

  “A debt?” he echoed. “Is that you talking? You who was determined to choose a fucking case over me.”

  “Johnnie, please,” she cried, jumping up and grabbing his sore hand. He didn’t flinch. Did he feel any pain? “Please, come back to me. This isn’t you, especially with Megan.”

  “Fuck Megan,” he spat. “This is about you and me. But that’s it right there.” He got to his feet, taller than her despite her height. “Why haven’t I seen it before?” He cocked his head to the side, staring at her as if he’d never seen her. “You can’t love me because you don’t know how to love. Your fucked-up mother planted it in your head that you weren’t worthy of love. Right, sweetheart?”

  Kendall shook her head wildly. “But I love you. I swear. I might not show it right, but, please…please don’t leave me. Don’t throw me away. Please? I’m begging you. I’d be so lost without you.”

  He gazed at something behind her from flat, lifeless eyes. She doubted he saw anything at all.

  “Do you know my grandfather?”

  How could she not? The question was preposterous. Yet she went along with it, frightened this was the end of her marriage, and nodded.

  “Logan loved me.” He grinned. “Grandda. But his love came with conditions. As long as I did everything he wanted, he loved me. When I went against him, he didn’t. He turned away from me. Wanted nothing to do with me.” His look turned haunted, sad. “Like you,” he finished on a whisper.

  She couldn’t refute that. Her actions of the past few days proved him right. But, no! No! He wasn’t right.

  He started to back away from her. She couldn’t allow him to leave, so she rushed to him and grabbed his wrist, falling to her knees and sobbing. “Don’t leave me. Please.”

  “I’m tired, Kendall.” He laid a hand on her head. “Of balancing your happiness and my life. It’s unfair of me to expect you to conform. Giving up your career wasn’t your choice. You want to practice law. And I was so fucking proud of you. My old lady. An attorney. Elegant. Classy. Kendall. You want what you want. Right now, in the heat of the moment, you’re swearing you’ll be whatever I want you to be. That isn’t in your nature. I love you, sweetheart. So fucking much. But I can’t do this anymore with you.”

  “No!” she screamed, getting to her feet and wrapping her arms around his neck. He returned her hug, but she felt no comfort or warmth. It seemed final.

  “You’re not happy just being my wife. And that’s what I want. I want a woman to love me without conditions. I want what Megan gives to Christopher.”

  Anger swirled through Kendall, and settled into her core. She yanked herself out of his embrace and slapped him with all her might. Although he laid his palm against his jaw, he didn’t move otherwise. “I’m not Megan Caldwell, you bastard. I’ve lived in her shadow since I met you. I can’t give you what she gives to Christopher, because we’re different women, with different approaches. She pretends everything is roses and sunshine on behalf of her jackass of a husband. She flits through life, calling me her friend, when underneath it all, I know she doesn’t really like me. How could she? I tried to seduce her husband. Body-wise, beauty wise, I’ll never measure up. Our personalities are completely opposite. I’m not Megan.” The words wore her out and she walked woodenly back to the bed, sitting on the edge. Defeat threatened to overwhelm her. “Maybe, you’re right. Maybe…maybe, we need to go our separate ways.”

  Just saying the words broke he
r heart. She thought he’d refute her statement. He remained silent.

  “Since you don’t believe I love you for who you are,” she added, hoping he heard her desperation.

  “I don’t want you to be Megan,” he said after a few tense moments. “I want you to be like her. Loyal to me. Willing to die for me. Kill for me. Able to respect me. I’m a fucking joke to you.”

  “You’re not,” she swore honestly. “There’s no other man like you.”

  “Except Christopher.”

  “No! He could never touch your intelligence. Your beauty. Your…your…the way you like to laugh and joke. You’re educated. You’re patient and kind. You’re fairer than he’ll ever be.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “What about the kids?” she asked in a small voice.

  “Don’t,” he warned. “Don’t fucking bring my children into this. You weren’t thinking of them when you gave me your ultimatum this morning.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry. I swear. Please. But can’t you see? Christopher couldn’t bring himself to kill you over me returning to work. He loves you. He couldn’t kill me because of your feelings for me. He’s all talk. You know this, Johnnie. That’s the only reason I talked to you about work. He might punch you around a bit. He’d never kill you, however, especially because of me.”

  He bent to her level and looked her up and down. “Do you remember the trouble you caused the last time you practiced law? You betrayed the club. Betrayed me and him.”

  “I wasn’t trying to do that.”

  “Now, you want to defend a biker from a rival club. Where is the miscommunication here? Maybe, if it was an ordinary Joe-Blow, I’d say, fuck it, I’ll take what Christopher has to give out. Not in this case. He’ll kill me. Fuck, he’ll kill me if he knows I met with Randolph. It won’t matter that I don’t remember the meeting. It wouldn’t go well for me, if Christopher found out. Can you understand that?”

  “Yes.”

  He straightened and shoved his hands into his pockets. “You were with me because you said I was too sick to drive. Leave it to you to flip the script and create chaos.”