Johnnie
Bringing Mattie would’ve placed the burden of secrecy on her daughter’s shoulders, and she had enough to contend with. Kendall thought it was best all around to capitulate to Mattie’s wishes.
Rory was another story.
Because of him, a simple excursion for a house viewing turned into a two-day stay that included a visit to her attorney.
However, if Kendall could pretend Ryan was innocent, then she’d have to reconcile her anger and disappointment toward her own son and do the same. She’d talk to that little motherfucker and ask him if he’d lost his fucking mind, but she’d forgive him and stay her course.
And when she needed to escape over the next three years, she’d drive to Nampa and stay at her secret house.
Once she divorced Johnnie, Kendall’s life would change dramatically.
She wouldn’t be able to contact any of her family for the same reason she hadn’t been able to bring her phone with her.
Johnnie would trace her. He didn’t track her as virulently as he once did.
Mainly to punish her. Her walking away and divorcing him would be the ultimate humiliation.
He’d track her to kill her, kidnap her, or take her children.
Rory would be eighteen, but Mattie would only be sixteen, JJ fourteen, and Blade six. She had three years to plan for all possibilities. In all honesty, she still prayed her husband, her Johnnie, came back to her long before then.
Stranger things happened. Fifteen years ago, she never thought she’d be so accepted by everyone. She never believed Outlaw would ever see her as such an asset to the club that he’d make her their lead attorney.
Fuck, ten years ago she hadn’t thought such a scenario was possible.
Ten years ago, she hadn’t expected any of what she’d been through to be helpful to anyone. It never occurred to her that all her pain and trauma would give her the fortitude to try and help Mattie and Harley.
Talking to Zoann and asking her to share her own experiences with Harley had been so difficult. The last thing Kendall wanted to do was bring up old trauma for her cousin-in-law. But Harley needed all the support she could get. Bailey sure the fuck wasn’t stepping up.
Standing from the rocking chair, Kendall stretched and dusted off her jeans.
She’d driven nearly seven hours in a rented car, not having the time to get to her hotel and freshen up.
Nor had she eaten. She was tired and hungry.
Needing to wrap up the visit, she walked the entirety of the wraparound porch, enjoying the sweeping vistas the acre of land afforded her.
There was an entry point on each side. Front led to the small entry hall, nothing elaborate like where she lived now.
The door on the east side led to a dedicated office, a charming room with a lot of light that would serve no purpose if she used her real name.
The back door opened to the den and the west one led to the kitchen.
For some reason, she’d decided she needed seven bedrooms. One for her, each of her kids, Ella, and a guestroom. Now that she’d found the perfect spot, she questioned her decision. Ella might not want to move to Idaho. And, again, she’d have to lay low so she doubted she’d have any guests.
Loneliness enveloped her. She could use a fucking hug or a good cry. She wanted Johnnie. Inside her, touching her, pleasuring her. Loving her.
Except if that motherfucker touched her, she’d kill him.
“There you are, Ms. Miller.”
Pasting a smile on her face, she turned to Evan Marks, her real estate agent. Using her maiden name was a gamble, too.
“Mr. Marks,” she greeted. She’d left him in the office about an hour ago. Seeing him behind the desk allowed her to imagine the space as her own. “I’m sorry I took so long.”
“Don’t apologize,” he told her, a silver fox, handsome with his silver hair, blue eyes, and weatherbeaten skin. Hands on hips, legs braced apart, he looked as if he had the world at his feet. “Do you have any other questions?”
She shook her head. “I would like to make a bid,” she said crisply.
He smiled, his eyes crinkling. “Perhaps, we can discuss the details over dinner and drinks?”
As tempting as the offer was, if only to have something to occupy her mind, Kendall declined. She still loved her husband, even if she no longer wanted to be his wife.
Almost twenty-six years ago, Johnnie sat on this very patio, admiring the lush greenery of his surroundings. The Andes were still magnificent, shrouded in early morning mist. Then, as before, red-tiled roofs dotted the verdant green mosaic of the various plants below.
But the table where he’d sat on the patio was gone. The patio, like everything else at the farmhouse, had fallen into disrepair. If not for the workers he’d hired to begin cutting back the overgrowth so repairs could begin, Johnnie wouldn’t have seen the deep valleys and rolling hills.
The trip had been so grueling. It was the one and only time he’d visited. He wasn’t quite as miserable, though he was just as lost. Unlike that visit, he wasn’t spending weeks there. He’d fly out tomorrow, hopefully beating Kendall home.
However, he wouldn’t lay down and rollover while she traipsed about. Out of the blue last night, she announced she was leaving for a short trip.
She expected him to stay behind and look after their kids. Well, fuck her. Luckily, he’d had this trip planned weeks ago. He’d intended to spring it on her and the kids at the last minute. Less time to ask questions or discover the truth.
She’d sprung the surprise on him after he’d found a way to simultaneously apologize and confront her. He’d also intended to tell her about his trip.
Fuck her. The joke was on her. He’d made it seem as if it was because of her sudden departure. They paid Ella a decent salary and kept a roof over her head. Let her earn her fucking keep.
Johnnie was only happy he had somewhere to go. Namely, Colombia, the place where it seemed more likely than ever that he’d bring Kendall to.
If he hadn’t had this trip planned, he would’ve followed her to catch her in the middle of her tryst. Why else would she leave if it wasn’t to fuck over Johnnie?
She didn’t have a fucking out-of-town business meeting. Johnnie knew that because he’d called Brooks and asked what was on Kendall’s agenda for the week. It certainly wasn’t going the fuck out of town.
Rubbing his eyes, Johnnie recalled Kendall as he’d seen her Saturday night, dressed in blue jeans, an oversized cream-colored sweater, and sneakers, her gorgeous red hair framing her face, still so fucking stunning.
And hard-headed.
And selfish.
And unfaithful.
At this point, his anger and jealousy overrode the love he’d always carried for her. Sometimes, he hated her. He’d always known how thin the line between love and hate was. She just wouldn’t fucking listen to him, but she was more than willing to do anything Christopher told her.
Her allegiance to every man except Johnnie drove him insane and turned his stomach. Bash, Christopher, and Mortician liked and protected her.
Why?
Megan he could understand. Delicate little damsels who didn’t have the sense of a gnat needed that. But Kendall? She was tall, forceful, demanding, and confident. She was stunning and elegant. Sexy? Not in the overt way. Elegance was better anyway.
She enjoyed sex, but it had been weeks since she’d allowed him near her. Deep down, Johnnie knew she was having an affair with either Christopher or Mortician.
Bash was too far beneath her for her to even consider. Christopher would fuck her out of revenge and Mortician would do it out of pity. He thought it was his fucking job to look after Johnnie’s wife.
Kendall was a handful, however. No one could ever love her like he did. For that matter, no one could ever truly want or desire her like him.
Didn’t she know that? Couldn’t she see that she was his world and her many betrayals crushed him?
Boots crunched over cracked cobblestones and he turned.
Andres Dartine, the local architect that the company he was working with sent to him.
He was a small, wiry man, older, no-nonsense.
Johnnie had forked over a lot of money for the initial plans, but he was running out of time for his life and his wife.
“How soon can you have the kitchen, bedroom, and a bathroom in working order?” he asked.
“It depends on how much you are willing to pay, Senor.”
“That depends on the price of the contract,” Johnnie replied without humor.
“This extra you want was not in the contract.”
“It isn’t extra. It’s prioritizing. This entire place has to be repaired.” Some parts needed demolishing and then rebuilding from the ground up. “I will need a bedroom, the kitchen, and a full bathroom as soon as possible.”
“The kitchen, dining room, and breakfast room is that way.” He jabbed a finger toward the west. “The bedrooms are in this area. Between, there are a lot of rooms in disarray, a partial roof collapse, and floors that are no bueno. I repair one area at a time. You cannot eat the cake that you have.”
Johnnie frowned. “Okay,” he said, and moved on, not understanding the analogy. “There are many rooms that won’t be needed. Can we split the house? Start with the kitchen and turn one of the unnecessary rooms into a large bedroom. I know there are several bathrooms on that side.”
The little man glanced over his shoulder, then looked at Johnnie and held up a finger. “Un momentico. I look again.” He started off. “How soon do you need this rooms?”
“I need these rooms ASAP.”
It was Dartine’s turn to frown.
“As soon as possible.” At Dartine’s blank look, Johnnie searched his mind for the correct saying. Here and there, he’d picked up sayings, mainly in moments of nostalgia when he remembered Paz. “Uh…Lo más pronto posible.”
“Ah. Sí.”
Smiling, he left Johnnie alone. While Dartine saw to whatever, Johnnie would continue creating his mental plan for his and Kendall’s new life in Colombia.