misunderstoodebook (41 page)

Now, just after one, with her morning sickness abating, she’d showered and found some of Johnnie’s clothes to put on. She sat on the bed and thought about how she’d approach Megan Caldwell.

A knock sounded on the door and Kendall stared at it, wondering if she should answer it. A second knock decided her. “Come in,” she called.

Mortician stuck his head in the room and shook his head. “I thought you was smarter than that, Red,” he said with a noisy sigh.

“What are you talking about?” she cried, pretending ignorance, not wanting to face his withdrawal, too.

“Don’t play fucking stupid, girl. You can fuck with any other motherfucker around here.
Not
Meggie, though. We all take fucking exception to that.”

“Because she’s so perf—“

He pushed the door opened, filling the space with his big body. “Don’t say that shit one fucking more time. I wasn’t here for the big fuckup and even
I’m
tired of hearing the fucking word ‘perfect’. Meggie not perfect, Kendall. No bitch and no motherfucker on earth perfect.”

“Why are
you
always imparting these gems to me and not Johnnie?”

He shrugged. “I don’t have to say fuck all to you, Kendall. No fucking skin off my ass.”

“Why are you here?” she grumbled.

“Prez called us to the board room, so I’ve come to escort you there.”

Kendall wasn’t quite sure what to expect when she followed Mortician into the room. Whatever scenario she would’ve imagined, it wouldn’t have been seeing Outlaw and his officers—minus K-P—amidst Megan and a gorgeous brown haired woman, who couldn’t seem to
not
look at Val, Bailey, and the bruised and beaten woman who Megan had rushed to yesterday.

Outlaw’s mouth thinned, the only indication he knew she’d arrived. Johnnie’s gaze flickered to Megan, who gave him a sour look and shrugged. The barest of smiles played about his full lips and Kendall clearly read the words,
thank you
. Megan sniffed and glanced away.

Kendall tempered her hurt feelings and rising jealousy, not wanting to cause a big scene.

Mortician joined the men, who were looking at the women with grim expressions. Outlaw stepped at the head of the group, ready to address them. Before he said anything, however, he got a cigarette, hit it a couple times, then sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Fuck me.” He glanced at Bailey, then glared at Dinah. “Keep your bullshit to a minimum, hear me, Dinah?”

Megan glanced over her shoulder and frowned. She looked at her husband, then back to her mother before narrowing her eyes at the men. All the officers were there. Except one. She gasped, going chalk white, before lifting a brow to Outlaw. He nodded ever so slightly, stepped closer, even though a table separated them, and reached over to tip her chin up to his.

“I-I’m fine, Christopher,” she managed. “Just say it.”

Straightening, Outlaw’s attention focused on Bailey, who sat still and stony in her chair. “Ain’t no easy way to do the bullshit, Bailey,” he said gruffly. “Your pops…K-P gone, babe. He’s dead.”

A scream pierced the room, followed by loud, overwhelming sobs. When no one moved toward Bailey, Kendall realized it wasn’t her. Meggie slipped off her chair and crawled to her hysterical mother, wrapping her arms around her.

“I’m sorry, Momma,” she crooned, threading her fingers through her hair.

“Meggie, no! He can’t be gone!” She screamed again, jerking and flailing in Meggie’s arms.

“Fuckin’ bitch,” Outlaw snarled, stalking into the circle of women, grabbing his mother-in-law around the waist, and lifting her away from Megan.

“Christopher!” Megan screeched around a sob. “My mother needs me right now.”

“Dinah, shut the fuck UP!” he yelled, giving her a one armed shake. When she didn’t quiet, he signaled to Stretch. The moment the man reached him, Outlaw shoved Dinah into his arms as he stood in front of Megan, blocking her from leaving. “Shut her up, Stretch.”

“Don’t hurt my mother,” Meggie cried from behind him. He moved ever so slightly, leading Kendall to believe Meggie had shoved him much like she had Johnnie yesterday.

Outlaw scowled. “Don’t hurt her. Just stuff something in her mouth and shut her the fuck up. Now get her out of here.”

The moment Stretch hustled Dinah out, silence descended until the brown-haired woman spoke.

“Why am I here?” Her voice was cold and distant.

“To hear about K-P, Zoann,” Johnnie responded, speaking for the first time and joining Outlaw, stopping next to him. “Why do you think?”

She pulled in a breath, her nostrils flaring, and the moisture in her eyes hinting at the tears she held at bay. “Now I know. May I leave? Go back to my house?”

“You can get the fuck outta here and don’t fuckin’ come back,” Outlaw ordered with cold disgust.

God, the only thing that seemed to move this man was his wife. Otherwise, he was ice cold.

Val stepped forward. “You can go to the room or you can go out to the main room, Puff. No fucking where else until lockdown’s over. You especially can’t take my son away from here.”

“I hate you.
All of you
. But especially you, you, and you.” With each you she snarled, she indicated the man she meant—Val, Johnnie, and Christopher. She glared at Kendall. “Get out while you’re ahead. Before you’re pregnant for my dickhead cousin and he decides to start enjoying free pussy from everyone all over again.”

“That’s enough, Zoann,” Johnnie warned.

“The truth hurts, doesn’t it?” she spat. “You don’t want a baby any more than Val wants Ryan and any more than Christopher wants CJ.”

“Motherfuck me.” Christopher scooped Zoann in his arms, nudged the door opened when he reached it, and deposited her outside before slamming the door shut. “Do I gotta put another bitch out or are we fuckin’ straight?”

Meggie scooted her chair closer to Bailey, leaned toward her, and pulled her into her arms, murmuring to her and crying right along with her. Kendall wasn’t sure when Bailey started to cry—somewhere in the chaos of Dinah and Zoann. Unlike Dinah, Bailey’s silent sobs racked her shoulders and made Kendall’s grief rise up, too.

She had a dead mother and a dead sister and she had to grieve alone. She had no one’s shoulder to lean her head on like Bailey was doing to Megan. No one to listen to her memories.

Megan was just allowing Bailey to sob, mumble a few words, and sob a bit more. Christopher crouched down between the two of them, his arms fanning out to their backs.

“Are you sure?” he asked finally.

“Yes,” Bailey said around her sniffles.

“All right then,” Christopher agreed, glancing at Mortician, who stood against the wall, arms folded, doing his best to appear disinterested and uncaring.

Bailey rose to her feet and looked at Mortician. But the man didn’t budge. He clenched his jaw and turned his head away. His actions took the last of Bailey’s fight and she seemed to wilt. Instead of saying anything else, she ran out of the room.

He looked at Meggie and sucked his teeth. “Motherfuck, Megan. Stop calling me a piece of shit.”

“I haven’t said one word,” she snarled, swiping at her tears.

“This hard,” he confessed. “Okay, girl? I been knowing K-P…fuck…Meggie.” He swallowed. “K-P was one of the good ones. He was better to me and Digger than our old man.” He scratched his neck and stared at the ceiling. “This shit fucking hard,” he said again, blinking. “What the fuck I’m supposed to say to Bailey when I don’t know what the fuck to say to myself?”

Meggie nodded in understanding, her smile gentle. “She’s leaving, Mortician. After her dad’s funeral, she’s going to where her mother lives.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment and, then, “It’s best this way. I got nothing to offer her but a one way ticket to heartbreak.”

“Okay,” Meggie said quietly, and stood on her tiptoes to hug her husband. She caressed her jawline. “I’m going check on Momma.”

“Stay away from her right now, Megan,” Outlaw ordered, gnashing his teeth together. “Fuckin’ bitch shovin’ you and you fuckin’ pregnant. Ain’t fuckin’ happenin’. So until she calm the fuck down, don’t go near her.”

Meggie sighed and headed toward the door, passing between the club officers. “I’ll keep Stretch in there. You know I’m the only one who’ll be able to get through to her.”

They all snorted in disgust, but nodded in agreement. Meggie nodded at Kendall, but didn’t speak as she departed, leaving Kendall to stare at the men and wonder exactly what she was doing there. She’d stood the entire time.

Outlaw pulled out a bag of weed and handed it, along with cigarette paper, to Johnnie, surprising Kendall. Johnnie used drugs?

“You need somethin’, Kendall?” Outlaw called, going to a cabinet and opening it to reveal bottles of alcohol.

“Why was I invited in here?”

He shrugged. “Fuck if I know. Megan wanted you here, so Megan got you here.” He opened a bottle of rum and pointed to Johnnie. “I guess for this motherfucker.” He pulled another bottle out, this one whisky and opened it. “You have any fuckin’ messages for Spoon?”

Unease slid through her and she glanced at Johnnie, who was frighteningly quiet and detached. “Sh-should I?”

“Yeah, Red,” Mortician offered, helping himself to the baggie and paper. “A last fuck you.”

“Any special way you want him fucked up?” Outlaw asked, serious. He didn’t bat an eyelash at his question.
None
of them did. They pulled out two more bottles, finished another roll. “Tell us now or for-fuckin-ever hold your peace.”

She squeaked, too shocked to do much else except shake her head.

“Okay, then get the fuck outta my face. By this time tomorrow, you’ll be free and lockdown will be over.”

Chapter 30

A little over an hour later, Johnnie wanted to vomit as he stared at a corpse for the first time in a long time. But it wasn’t just
any
corpse. It was K-P, dead for over twenty-four hours now.
Killed.
Something needed to be done with the body, but no one could decide what.

Megan seemed to believe he’d have a funeral. A funeral was no less than K-P deserved and it would give Bailey the closure she needed. Closure they all needed.

He wanted to release the same inhuman screams as Dinah. He felt sick. The horror, impotent anger, and grief reflecting on Val’s, Digger’s, Mortician’s, Stretch’s, and Christopher’s faces matched his own. No one spoke or said a word, merely stared. Mute.

K-P had been their friend and their cook and their voice of reason. And he’d been Bailey’s father. Now, what was left of him was spread out on the table in the meat shack. Logan had been vicious and Johnnie knew the blood he’d seen at that house hadn’t been his grandfather’s.

It had been K-P’s.

He reached out a hand and touched the man’s torso. Not an inch of skin remained on any part of his body. And his head…
Jesus
.

Caroline’s swinging body came to mind. Logan’s faceless one. The photos of all those unknown girls and the images of the women he did know. Dinah. Bailey. Zoann. Megan.

Kendall. She was stronger now. He saw it even if she didn’t. Within twenty-four hours, Spoon would be history. She’d be safe. Their baby would be safe.

She could get back to being an attorney. Away from him and Christopher and the club that she held herself apart from. Right now, he couldn’t hold her hand. The club had business to take care of.
He
had business to take care of. Coming clean with Christopher, for instance.

He understood she must’ve been hurting. Just as Bailey was hurting. But they—
he—
didn’t dwell in emotions. He faced them up to a point and moved on. That’s how he survived.

Kendall was different. She needed more. She needed his kisses.

She
deserved
his kisses. He’d never been a kisser, though. Not until Megan.

“Okay, fuckheads, give me five minutes alone with John Boy,” Christopher ordered, pulling out a cigarette and lighting one.

“Val, Stretch, Digger,
go
,” Christopher said again when Mortician stormed out, without saying anything. Outlaw glanced at K-P, then Johnnie before taking another drag on his cigarette.

“Christopher—“

“This shit wasn’t your fault, John Peter,” Christopher began, calling him the name he’d used when they were still innocent children.

“Yes. It was. I shouldn’t have let him live. If he’d been dead, he wouldn’t have had a chance to do
this
.”

Christopher circled the table, examining K-P’s remains with surprising detachment. It wasn’t nothing they hadn’t done before. But he was one of them. K-P was…had been…Jesus.

Johnnie flicked his cigarette onto the ground, stepped on it and returned to his morbid study. “Then we both at fuckin’ fault,” he said after a moment. “Because I coulda fuckin’ offed him, too.”

“What’s the matter with you? How can you be so unfeeling now when you were on the verge of crying yesterday?”

“What the fuck you want me to say, Johnnie? Huh? Ain’t fuck I can say gonna bring K-P back
or
bring us the fuck back in time so we could take care of Logan.”

They stared at one another, both of them waiting, wanting something from the other that neither seemed able to give. That neither of them seemed able to fathom.