Mortician headed to where Bailey and Meggie sat. “Go enjoy yourselves,” he told Stretch and Slipper. “I can take over from here.”
Stretch gave him a sour look. “Outlaw said we can’t move and we can’t let Meggie and Bailey move.”
Meggie threw Strecth the evil eye and he flushed.
Mortician scratched his chin, not wanting Bailey to see his satisfaction that Prez was taking care of her for him. She looked morose as it was. He folded his arms.
“What Prez say to get you to listen, Bailey?” He’d have to use that shit himself. He didn’t want her to exert herself. She’d been grievously ill and she needed to stay calm.
“That he’d lock me in the room and throw away the key.”
Yeah, and if the man said it with such innocence, Mortician was a dickless motherfucker.
“Yo’, Stretch, Slipper, get the fuck gone. Mortician here now. I can do the rest of the shit from where the fuck I’m standin’. Go get some pussy and some food.”
Not sticking around to see Prez bend down and kiss Meggie or the sullen glare she gave him, Slipper headed for the club ass and Stretch went for the food.
“You a mad lil’ motherfucker, huh, Megan?” Prez smirked at her. “Maybe, you gonna do your pussy lockout?”
His tone made it clear that’s exactly what he hoped for.
Meggie scowled at him. “Just because I offer it, doesn’t mean you have to take it,” she snarled.
He shrugged. “Yeah, well. I’m thinkin’ ‘bout puttin’ my dick in jail, so you ain’t gotta do your fuckin’ lockout. I’m throwin’ away the fuckin’ key to my cock prison.”
Meggie looked at Bailey. “See? I told you. You can’t reason with him, so don’t take it personally.”
“I upset you, babe?” Outlaw asked with raised eyebrows. “Ain’t meanin’, too. All you had to do was tell me to fuck off.”
“Then I could’ve been with Zoann, Bunny, and the others?”
Meggie snorted.
“Fuck, no. Ain’t said that shit. At least you woulda felt fuckin’ better though. Whatcha man agree to let you fuckin’ do his fuckin’ business. You was under my fuckin’ care, so you wasn’t doin’ shit to hurt you or your girl. You don’t fuckin’ like it? Don’t give a fuck. But you coulda called me a motherfucker to release the tension.”
“You have a strange sense of chivalry,” Bailey admitted, frowning at him.
“He’s my knight in leather cut and shining chrome,” Meggie said softly.
Mortician knew she was still irritated with Prez, but she also knew just what the fuck to say to bend him, too.
Prez grunted and winked at her before turning his attention to Mort. “Okay, motherfucker. Do or fuckin’ die time.” Just as Strokin’ by Clarence Carter blasted over the speakers, he called for everyone’s attention. “Few fuckin’ months ago,” he started once the music had been turned off and the talking stopped, “Mortician decided to be a funny motherfucker. He bet he’d never get addicted to young pussy like my fuckin’ ass is.” He stepped aside so everyone could see Meggie. Not that they needed to. She was as infamous as her husband, only for different reasons. “It’s with dis-fuckin-gust I admit defeat. He won, so we…” He looked over the crowd… “Me and Val since the other two motherfuckers in the bet ain’t fuckin’ around…we payin’ up.”
Looking at him expectantly, Prez dug in his pocket and held out a wad of cash. Mortician already knew his response. He also knew Prez was helping him to make a point to Bailey, so he couldn’t help but glance at her lovely face. When she caught sight of him, she plastered a smile on her mouth.
“Congratulations, Lucas,” she said.
“Sexy girl,” he responded, walking to her side before facing everyone. “Keep the fuckin’ bills, Prez. You, too, Val,” he added and realized Val hadn’t even moved from his spot.
He was laughing his ass off, though, and Mortician flipped him off. But, then, he decided he was grateful for it, too. Digger had been part of the bet and, had he still been there, he would have ribbed Mortician from here to hell. It hurt that he wasn’t there. However, neither was John Boy. How had things changed so much in just six, short months?
Big Joe had saved the club from going down in the flames of Logan’s hatefulness. He’d stuck with it, turned it around, and given it respectability again. He’d taken their MC from local to regional. Until his drug habit had almost ruined all he’d done.
Even before Outlaw became Prez, he’d worked alongside Boss. The contacts Outlaw made across the border in Canada had helped to bring chapters to British Columbia, Ontario, and Manitoba. He’d gotten a couple of UK chapters started and his hydrogrow business had added additional money to their bank accounts.
It had worked. Until, suddenly, it didn’t. And Mortician’s brother was on Outlaw’s hit list while Johnnie was descending into his own private hell.
Would it ever be the same again?
Talking hadn’t resumed and neither had the music. Everyone was looking at him…waiting.
“When I made the bet, I didn’t think I’d ever meet someone who could get under my skin,” he admitted, looking from Outlaw to the crowd and then, to Bailey. “About two weeks passed before that shit bit me in the ass. I met you, Bailey. My world not been the same since. I love you. Getting the money not winning. Having you is. You and Harley mean everything to me.”
“Welcome to the world of pussification, Mort,” Prez said with pride.
Chester blew a kiss at him and Meggie gave him a misty-eyed look while chuckles and snickers rose amongst the crowd, but Mortician didn’t care. The moment Bailey launched herself into his arms was the moment Mortician would cherish for the rest of his life.
Chapter Thirty-Three: Honor Thy Father
It took almost eight weeks of strategizing and careful planning to put everything into place to bring Sharper down. Just as when they’d dealt with Moncette—the county sheriff—Sharper Banks was a well-loved public figure whose disappearance would be not only noted but investigated.
Mortician knew his father was also putting plans into motion. Char’s death had been reported by news outlets as a suicide. The other men who had died the day Mortician got Bailey wasn’t mentioned. Sharper operated underground with his dirty dealings.
For the first time, Mortician realized what an effort Prez put in to do his club duties effectively when his uppermost thought was Meggie. Mortician felt the same way regarding Bailey.
What needed to be done was taken care of—money continued to flow. Church went on weekly. Parties happened. Nothing too special recently, so the Bobs hadn’t been around.
But the intense focus on club life was gone for the time being. Even the gunrunning deal that Val had been put in charge of before Chester’s shooting was still being rescheduled.
Their main focus was their women and babies. They wanted Meggie, Chester, and Bailey settled and their kids they were expecting brought safely into the world. The ones already born—Little Man and Ryan—they wanted protected.
As far as Brooks told them, Red was in a secure environment, sheltered from anyone who might want to harm her. She still refused to respond to texts or phone calls, though.
Finally, the day arrived when Mortician, Prez, John Boy, Val and Ghost were flying to LA and checked into different motels under assumed names.
No one had heard from Red, and Johnnie seemed to have accepted the possibility that he and Kendall were well and truly over.
He’d reverted to being the John Boy who just looked at a girl and got her into his bed. Other than that, he was ice fucking cold, so Mortician let him be.
Arriving at his father’s mansion under the cover of darkness, Mortician got out of the van near the gate. Sharper hadn’t installed additional security cameras because Mortician had gotten onto the ground to search for Bailey just like he was now, by scaling the fucking walls, already knowing the locations of the cameras on premises.
The house was mostly dark, except for the lights in his
father’s first floor suite. Sharper kept his own monitors in there to see what his boys missed from their security station situated in the attic.
Hurrying to the gate to unlock it—but not open it—Mortician ran to the front door. No one could have been watching for intruders. His body heat would’ve given him away the moment he got into the range of the cameras at the gate.
He jimmied the locks on the door, then stepped slowly inside, leaving it slightly ajar. The alarm beeped, just before an automated voice announced, “Front door open.”
Hand on his gun, Mortician slid against the wall and waited. Nothing. The faintest stench reached his nostrils. Almost like death. He crept forward, towards his father’s room, encountering not a fucking person. The silence was heavy and oppressive, like a horror movie where some jacked up dead motherfucker waited to slice him to pieces.
Fuck. Where the fuck were the servants?
As Mortician walked into the hallway that led to his father’s rooms, the odor grew more intense. Death. Definitely. A violent death, at that.
At the entry door, he paused, wondering what he’d find on the other side. His gut told him his father’s body, but would it be Sharper alive and waiting to blow him away? His father was fucking evil. He could’ve killed and left the bodies to rot. He could’ve killed and somehow found out about tonight, and was now lying in wait.
Raising his .380, Mortician turned the knob, slowly, expecting a confrontation. Gunfire.
Blood. When he walked into the room, blood met him. Blood everywhere. Floors. Walls. Ceiling. Furniture.
Blood and bodies. But not Osti and not Sharper. Drawing in a breath, Mortician realized he didn’t have to make the choice of pulling the trigger on his very own father’s life. Sharper was more than a motherfucker and Mortician wanted to tell himself he could’ve raised his weapon and rid the world of a morally bankrupt asshole.
Sharper had hurt a lot of people and—
“Mortician?” Prez’s voice drifted down the hall.
Oh, yeah, he was supposed to confront Sharper and then get the fuck out of there.
“You okay?”
“He not here, Outlaw.” Mortician waved his gun to the five other bodies. “And I didn’t shoot none of these motherfuckers.”
“No?”
Something in Prez’s voice caught Mortician’s attention. He wasn’t sure what, but hearing that one word made Mort turn around. He narrowed his eyes. “You did it, didn’t you?”
Prez lit a cigarette and pulled on it, shit he always did just to make a motherfucker wait for an answer. “You a grown fuckin’ man, Mortician, and I gave my fuckin’ orders. Why the fuck would I come here to fuck up Sharper when I told you to do it?”
“Yeah, Prez, I know,” he said tiredly, thinking of Digger and Bailey, Tyler and Harley. Bailey had a few days left until she delivered and he’d finally meet his daughter. “This shit just seem…I don’t fuckin’ know.”
“You know I fucked up my old man, yeah?”
“Who don’t know that shit?”
“Johnnie fucked up Logan.”
Mortician rolled his eyes. “Know that, too, Outlaw.”
“You was taught to honor you father, wasn’t you?”
“From the cradle,” he answered with a shrug. “I haven’t honored him or loved him in a long time. So what’s your fucking point?”
He gave him a hard stare and took his cigarette between his fingers. “We all got our breakin’ points, Mort. You a happy motherfucker with Bailey. You and me and Johnnie and Val been through a fuckload of shit. We got each other backs. You fucked up Sharper, sooner or later that shit woulda fucked with your head. Not cuz you don’t have the heart. Just cuz you was taught to honor your father. We ain’t strayin’ too far from the fundamental shit we got taught as lil’ motherfuckers.” He cocked his head to the side. “Ma taught me bitches gotta be protected and I try my fuckin’ best not to hurt a girl.”
He nodded to the bodies. “Did you kill them?”
“I ain’t fuckin’ Superman. I had fuckin’ help here. I came to blow Sharper the fuck away so your conscious would be clear, but he was gone, Mort. Our fuckin’ hunt continues.” He sighed. “I been tryna wait ‘til Megan deliver, but, I can’t take knowin’ that deputy who stuck his fingers in her pussy still breathin’. With Sharper still somewhere the fuck ‘round, I’m gonna be workin’ and she gonna let me, so I’m gonna get the fuckin’ opportunity to get that deputy motherfucker.”
“How the fuck he got away?”
“Obviously a fuckin’ tipoff.”
Mortician processed that and thought of Digger. He hadn’t had any contact with him since he’d seen him in New Orleans, so…
“They waitin’ for us to get the fuck out, so Ghost can do whatever the fuck he gotta to fuck with the gas lines.” Prez tapped his pocket. “I got a bit of plastic to attach to the dead fucks. The rest of this motherfucker can burn halfway fuckin’ down. We can’t let the badges find bodies with bullets, so we blowin’ them to fuckin’ bits and pieces.”
“You into explosions, huh, son?”
Prez snickered. “That’s some pretty fuckin’ shit. A big ass fireball.”
“Outlaw, where the fuck your smoke?”
“Flame out, assfuck. You think I’m gonna get my fuckin’ ass blown off and leave my girl?”
“No, Prez,” Mortician agreed with a smile.
“It take a special motherfucker to kill a family member.”
Searching for a response, Mortician looked away. He’d been charged with killing Digger, too, and he hadn’t been able to do it. “Yeah, Prez, I guess it do.”
“I ain’t askin’ nothin’ of you, I ain’t willin’ to do. You my friend. I’m tellin’ you two things. I ain’t ‘bout to let Digger live. He left my girl to die. Don’t fuckin’ know why. I just know he fuckin’ did. As long as we keep this shit on the down fuckin’ low and no other motherfucker find out you fuckin’ disobeyed my order to kill him for what the fuck he did, you fuckin’ live. As I said, we friends. That shit ever fuckin’ get out, you either findin’ that motherfucker—if I ain’t already—and bringin’ his fuckin’ body to me or I’m puttin’ a fuckin’ bullet in your head. Can’t have your fuckin’ disrespect go unanswered.”
“Outlaw—”
“Ain’t wantin’ to hear fuck all, Mortician. If I ain’t knowin’ how much you fuckin’ hated Sharper, I woulda fuckin’ think you tipped his fuckin’ ass off. I was pissed like a motherfucker, but it was my lil’ pain in the ass Megan who calmed me the fuck down. I blasted the fuck outta her too for inter-fuckin-ferin’. Even with them two lil things in her. That’s how fuckin’ mad I was.” He heaved in a heavy breath. “She made me wonder if I could ever really kill Johnnie. She ain’t thinkin’ I can. She say whenever I pull my fuckin’ piece I ain’t ever pulled the trigger. Unlike that motherfucker did when he pulled his fuckin’ piece.”
Prez scowled at the memory. John Boy hadn’t shot Outlaw that day, but he had stabbed him.
“As long as this shit between us, I ain’t punishin’ you for shit I might not fuckin’ be able to do. To save your fuckin’ ass, though, if I get to him—and nobody know—I’m gonna leave his body somewhere you can get him and bring him to me like you fucked him up. That’s fuckin’ it. All the fuckin’ compromise I can offer. Ain’t nothin’ you can say or Megan can say to save his fuckin’ life. He left her to die and ain’t e-fuckin-nuff miracles in the universe to make me change my mind. The day I rescind my order for his death is the fuckin’ day I tell Johnnie fuckin’ cunt welcome to my family.”
“It could happen,” Mortician said heavily, “you seem to be softening in your old age.”
“Fuck you.” He clapped Mortician on the back. “You straight, Mort?”
Was he? The explosion was supposed to look as if it was a gas leak, but anything could go wrong, especially with an explosive being used. Outlaw had risked a lot on Mortician’s behalf, just so he could have a conscious free of killing his father. Thinkin
g about it, he was relieved he hadn’t been faced with the decision, but he also knew he would’ve killed Sharper if it had come right down to it.
Letting Digger go was one thing. Allowing the evil that was the Reverend Sharper Banks was another.
Outlaw’s decree about Digger didn’t come as a surprise nor did the promise of Mortician’s imminent death shock him. In saving his brother, he’d broken the rules, not only disobeying Outlaw, but disrespecting him, too.
“Yeah, Prez,” he answered, after a moment. “I’m straight.”
He held up a small remote control device. “Let’s get the fuck out, then.”
They were at the bottom of the canyon and allowing the old junky van to roll over the side of the hill by the time the explosion went off. Two minutes later, John Boy drove up in an SUV, ushered them in, and then headed back to the airport.
Chapter Thirty-Four: Sons & Daughters
Arriving at PDX in the early hours of the morning, Mortician was mounting his bike when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Bailey looked ready to pop and he didn’t want her worrying, so he waved off Prez, Val, Ghost, and John Boy, indicating his phone.
Ready to type a quick I’ll be there in thirty, his eyes widened when he saw Digger’s name above the text showing an address.
Mortician stared at the screen for long minutes, Prez’s words pounding in his head. He wasn’t sure how Outlaw knew he’d let Digger go, but, if he knew that, surely, he’d discover if Mortician met with him a second time?
What the fuck was wrong with him? He had to be fucked in the head to even consider meeting Digger.
His phone vibrated again. Tyler is with me I swear this no setup
It wasn’t like Mortician could tell anyone where he was going. If he went, it had to be a secret. He could tell Bailey, but he didn’t want to add any additional stress to her.
Scrolling up, he looked at the first message again. Digger’s location wasn’t far from the airport. Jumpstarting his bike, Mortician knew he’d go to where Digger was. For too many years, he’d been curious about his son. If Tyler was really there, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to meet him, despite the risks involved.
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 206