Chapter Five – Johnnie
Spending hours at the hospital awaiting word on Megan and Rebel’s condition wasn’t an exercise Johnnie wanted to ever repeat. Nor had he ever felt more of an outsider, relegated to the hallway outside the locked doors to the private wing or the waiting room with the rest of the family.
Outside of his sons, Christopher only allowed Mortician access to Megan and Rebel. Rarely had Johnnie felt as humiliated or overlooked.
He didn’t care if Mortician was family too–second cousin to him and Christopher.
Perhaps, Christopher was aware of their biological bonds.
He’d taken one look at Cleaner and knew that motherfucker was related to Digger and Mortician.
With Kendall’s desertion to Christopher’s side, Johnnie suspected she’d told him Sharper and Cee Cee were cousins.
And if Christopher didn’t know but still allowed Mortician on the private wing but not Johnnie? That would be even more of an egregious affront.
It wasn’t as if he could ask. He’d only give himself away.
So he’d stayed at the hospital until Mortician brought CJ an overnight bag and returned with the news that Megan and Rebel were stable. Unable to bear it anymore, Johnnie left. Surprisingly, Kendall and the kids weren’t far behind.
By the time he awakened this morning, Kendall and Rory were gone and Mattie was asking permission to return to the hospital with Grant, who was back home because of yet another tragedy.
Johnnie almost sent her back to her room, but she’d looked so hopeful, he couldn’t decline the request. After breakfast, he took JJ and Blade to the clearing for target practice. Grandda handed Johnnie his first gun near his third birthday, too.
Except the outing with his sons almost ended in another tragedy.
In the split-second Johnnie left Blade to his own devices, he’d pointed the gun at himself and tried to pull the trigger.
The soft click of the blocked hammer made Johnnie focus on his youngest child.
Blade still had the gun pointed at his face.
If JJ hadn’t remembered to put the safety back on once they grew bored with the weapon, Blade would’ve been dead.
After swearing both boys to secrecy, Johnnie ended target practice. Back at home, he sent Blade with Ella, while JJ disappeared to wherever. Meanwhile, Johnnie went to the library, shaken at how close he’d come to being in Christopher’s shoes.
Beneath the surface of Johnnie’s horror at all the near-death befalling Christopher’s wife and kids, a small sense of something invaded him. Gratefulness, certainly. But another feeling he loathed to explore.
Throughout the day, he checked his phone. Waiting for word from Christopher. Hoping Kendall called. Wondering if he’d hear from Bash. Unable to focus on any one thing, Johnnie’s thoughts skipped from subject to subject.
Finally, the alarm alerted him to the front door opened. Looking at the app revealed Kendall entering the house. She was so fucking gorgeous with her red hair framing her lovely face, despite her minimal make-up and understated jewelry.
He tracked her movements down the central hallway. She turned toward the library door, paused, drew in a deep breath, and continued on her way.
Disappointment vied with anger inside Johnnie at her brush off. Instead of seeking her out, he waited to see how long it would take her to acknowledge him.
Ninety goddamn minutes later, he had his answer. She sent JJ to collect him for the evening meal.
Unfortunately, dinner was a tense affair because Kendall barely talked to Johnnie.
To the naked eye, it seemed as if she were too busy with Blade.
Johnnie knew better. Calling her out meant giving in and speaking more than five words to her.
He refused to cave tonight. Not after the indignities he’d suffered at Christopher’s hands and now Kendall’s.
If Mattie had been home, she would’ve spoken to him, if only out of fear.
JJ followed Kendall’s lead. Electronic devices weren’t allowed at the table, but JJ only opened his fucking mouth to shovel in food or respond to Kendall.
Halfway through the torturous meal Rory arrived home and piled his plate with two pieces of baked salmon, a mountain of braised sweet potatoes, a large heaping of garlic spinach, and three slices of eleven-grain bread bought from a nearby bakery.
“Hey, Mom. Dad,” he greeted, then dug into his food.
Between feeding herself and cutting Blade’s food into small pieces, Kendall refilled her wineglass three times without offering Johnnie a drop. Sensing the tension, JJ kept his eyes downcast and Johnnie waited for the moment his wife realized the error in her ways.
Because of her stubbornness, the kids were suffering, their family was falling apart, and Christopher had turned on him. Because of her, Megan had turned on him.
If Kendall helped him, they’d get out of this predicament sooner rather than later.
But no. She stood solidly with Christopher.
Johnnie’s primary reason for involving himself and not going to Christopher had been to protect Kendall.
Did she appreciate that? It didn’t seem so.
She was willingly risking herself for an impossible task. For Christopher.
Disheartened and disgusted, Johnnie returned to the library as soon as he could. He couldn’t take the accusation in Kendall’s eyes. He couldn’t take not knowing why he couldn’t let it go and feel even a shred of happiness that Christopher had finally taken her into the fold and valued her opinion.
Grabbing the decanter of whisky, Johnnie went to his desk, sat behind it, and swigged the alcohol. Fuck a glass. That was just a cursory show of etiquette.
Manners were unneeded when one’s life crumbled to dust.
The door creaked open. Without glancing in that direction, Johnnie used his excellent skills of deduction to reveal the visitor. Kendall and JJ avoided him, Matilda wasn’t there, and Blade was a toddler. That left Rory.
“Dad?”
Johnnie tipped the decanter back again. He didn’t look at his son. “What, Rory?”
The door closed.
“I didn’t invite you in.”
“I didn’t ask for an invitation.”
Scowling, Johnnie set the decanter on the desk and raised his hand to halt his son’s advance. “You’re getting beside yourself. Watch it, son.”
Rory held up a #10 envelope. “You have to read this.”
“I don’t have to do anything. Talk to your mother. Tell her what she has to do.”
“Self-pity doesn’t become you.”
“Get the fuck out of here.”
Taking his disrespect to new levels, Rory continued, still ignoring Johnnie’s orders and walking to the desk. He laid the envelope down and, leaning over, slid it to Johnnie. It was opened.
“It’s from Randolph’s mom.”
“Who the fuck is Randolph?”
“Aunt Meggie’s nephew,” Rory said dryly. “Big Joe’s grandson. Snake’s son. Your second cousin and my third.”
“Can you prove that?”
Rory glared at him.
“What the fuck does the letter say and where did you get it from?”
“Read it, and I got it from Mom’s office.”
“Kendall didn’t tell me you went to the office.”
“Mom didn’t know. Even if she did, she isn’t talking to you, so she wouldn’t have told you.”
“You broke into her office?”
“That’s the least of your fucking worries, Dad.”
“Talk to me with respect.”
“When you deserve respect, I’ll give it to you. Right now, you’re in here pouting and letting Mom, Mattie, me, JJ, and Blade down. You’re letting your club down and you’re especially letting Uncle Christopher down.”
A red haze of anger blinded Johnnie, and he jumped to his feet. “Do you really want to stand toe-to-toe with me? I’ll fucking cut you to pieces without wielding a knife, you ungrateful wretch.”
“Stop wallowing in self-pity, Dad. We all need and love you, especially Mom. You can help her. Why does she have to help you?”
“Because I’m her husband and it’s her job to listen to me. I’ve given that woman everything.”
“Except faithfulness, loyalty, and respect.”
Johnnie stiffened. “You’re lucky I love you. Otherwise, I’d shoot the fuck out of you.”
“I’ll die standing on that hill of truth. You mightn’t have ever physically been unfaithful. Mentally and emotionally? Aunt Meggie wins every fucking time—”
“I—”
“Don’t, Dad. Okay? I don’t want to talk about it. As long as you dream of another woman, Mom’s second and you disrespect her.”
“I love your mother.”
“But not enough. In all fairness, I don’t think you love Aunt Meggie. The only people you truly love are Uncle Christopher and Logan Donovan. Unfortunately, you hate them, too, and that’s consuming you. Taking away all your good.”
Johnnie squinted. “Are you calling me gay?”
“No, Dad,” Rory said with a sigh. “I’m calling you pathetic.”
“Get out.”
“Not until you read the fucking letter.”
“I cannot believe you broke into her office.”
“Gramps let me in.”
“That motherfucker! Disrespecting Kendall’s privacy.”
“Read the fucking letter.”
Dropping into his seat again, Johnnie snatched the envelope and took out the contents, unfolding a single sheet of paper.
Dear Kendall,
You’re acquainted with my son, Randolph Foy. I won’t get into the particulars of that doomed alliance, so I’ll get straight to the point.
Joe Foy entrusted me with documents that my son brought to Bash Caldwell.
Now, shit has hit the fan. Megan Caldwell is in as much danger as my son.
If you can call me at the number listed at the bottom of this letter, I am happy to overnight you the documents.
I cannot send them without knowing where they will land.
The phone is a burner that I will keep for a month. After that, I will know you aren’t interested in extricating Outlaw’s wife or my son from their dire circumstances.
This is what I know. Megan owns everything. Her father appropriated her name and social security number and secured loans. At some point, he did remove her as the sole beneficiary, but Sharper Banks and Logan Donovan falsified documents and returned it all to her.
There is a final will with a woman named Marion.
Who the hell knows what that reveals, but it seems as if Big Joe got wind of what happened, and he took measures to safeguard her.
K-P was stealing documents. First, he hung around for Big Joe, then he stayed to watch over Outlaw, Johnnie, Val, and his godsons, whom he adored. It cost him his life.
If anyone has any connection to New Orleans, all the original documents are in a house there, stuck in a wall.
I don’t know whose house or if those crazy motherfuckers broke into a random home to hide them.
But that’s all the proof Bash needs. If Randolph opens his fucking mouth or Bash figures it out on his own, Megan’s dead.
I figure if you can find them first and take them to Outlaw, he can figure it out. He’s brilliant.
I owe Outlaw and Johnnie. More than you’ll ever know. And I love my son. I’m furious at the predicament he’s put me in, but he suggested I contact you and lay all the cards on the table.
Here they are.
Sincerely,
Hopper
Hands shaking, Johnnie reread the letter until the words blurred in front of him and he could repeat each paragraph from memory.
In a single piece of paper, he had all the answers.
The who: Randolph, that fucking idiot, alerted Bash to the documents.
Why? Because he was a fucking idiot. Johnnie assumed it was also because he needed help with the Imperials.
It was why Mystic contacted Christopher.
How? Big Joe gave documents to Hopper; Randolph found them and brought them to Bash.
Clearing his throat, he folded the sheet of paper and laid it next to him.
“The only person connected to New Orleans is Lolly, Dad. K-P’s Lolly. It has to be a house she once lived in.”
So many fucking lives were at stake. But if Randolph hadn’t given up where the originals were, he never would. Even if he blabbed to save his life, Bash probably wouldn’t believe him. Motherfuckers said anything to help themselves.
“Dad, this is your chance to make everything right. If you get the information to save Aunt Meggie and bring it to Uncle Christopher, he might be angry with you, but he’ll forgive you. You’ll save her.”
“But only if I bring it to Christopher, right, son? Not on my own merits?”
“I didn’t mean—”
“How did you know about the letter?” Johnnie interrupted impatiently, uninterested in Rory’s explanation.
“I was watching Mom,” Rory admitted without remorse. “Gramps told her it came from Michigan without a postmark. It seemed suspicious.”
“What do you mean you were watching Kendall? Have you tapped into her camera?”
“Someone needs to look out for her. Bash is on the loose.”
“Don’t interfere with something that doesn’t concern you.”
“I beg to differ. She’s my mother. Her safety and mental health concerns me greatly.”
“Is that a dig?”
“Not an effective one if I have to explain it.” Rory stomped to Johnnie’s side and snatched the letter. “Never mind, I’ll take it to Uncle Christopher. I should’ve known better than to trust you to do the decent thing and actually fucking help.”
Johnnie grabbed the edge of the paper and yanked so hard, he ripped it in two.
Rory gasped. “Dad—”
In a blind fury, Johnnie tore his half to tiny shreds.
Tears rushed to Rory’s eyes. “What are you doing?”
Johnnie snatched Rory’s half, stalked to the fireplace, and threw it on the dying flames. “There, you little fuckhead. You don’t trust me?” he raged. “I don’t help? Fuck you. No one respects me or looks at my value. Fuck you!”
Bursting into tears, Rory turned and ran out.
Johnnie stared at the door yawning open, the hallway’s black void leaving a haunting echo of his son’s sobs.
Jesus Christ, what the fuck had he done?