Chapter Twenty-Six—Mortician #3
Digger lifted his gaze to Mort, then flinched and quickly lowered his lashes. Meanwhile, Mort turned Digger’s words over in his head, his mind whirling, unwilling to accept what that motherfucker didn’t have the balls to say.
“You want to die,” Mort managed.
“I’m fucking dead if I don’t replace that motherfucking money!”
“You took Meggie money?” Mort asked in disbelief. “You stole from Prez woman?”
“Yeah, Mort.”
“How the fuck you even got access to her account?” Mort asked, then snapped his mouth shut.
One reason Digger had become so resentful toward Meggie girl over the past few weeks was because he couldn’t hang out with Prez at their house.
Mortician imagined Meggie trusting Digger with the run of the place.
Not only because of Bunny, but because of him.
She wouldn’t even question him if he happened to be in her office. Where her checkbooks were.
“I just wanted to build a bigger house for my wife, Mort. Please believe me. I know it sound like it was for me. Maybe, part of it was. But Bunny put up with so much from me, the kids, Meggie…” He spat her name like a curse.
“She should at least come home to the type of house I always wanted to put her in.”
Worry and rage combined inside Mortician. He couldn’t believe Digger was so fucking stupid that he’d stolen from Meggie. He could’ve stolen from anyone else, even Outlaw, and the man wouldn’t have seen it as such as egregious affront. “Where the fucking money, motherfucker?”
Digger gulped and glanced away.
Digger had won a lot of money at Derby’s table in December. Mort hadn’t asked where he’d gotten the buy-in fee, just assuming Bunny gave it to him or Prez paid it. But, no, he’d taken the money he’d stolen from Meggie to gamble. He’d won big that night, though that didn’t mean shit to Digger.
“Where the fuck her money at?”
“Gambled away.”
“Motherfucker!”
The word exploded from Mort in a burst of fury and outrage.
He pounded his fists on the table. Once, twice, three times, momentarily losing his fucking mind.
Not caring that every motherfucker in the diner turned his way.
Symphony came running. Tee booked it onto the floor, just in time to see Mortician lunge for Digger and punch him in his fucking mouth.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Mort! I’m sorry.”
“You fucking sorry all right,” Mortician roared, losing complete control, blinded by the fuckery of his family. His wife. His brother. His daughter. He hadn’t even seen his mama-in-law as much because Bailey and Harley were so goddamn fucked up.
“What the fuck?” Kendall’s yell broke through his rage. She grabbed his arm and tried to jerk him away. “Stop! Stop it now! You’re going to fuck him up! Goddamn it! Stop it, Mortician.”
Her order seeped into Mort’s fury and he realized he was choking the fuck out of Digger. The moment his grip slackened, Kendall wrapped her arms around his neck, dragged him away, and hugged him.
“It’s okay,” she soothed. “Whatever it is. It’s okay.”
No, it wasn’t. His life had never been farther from okay. He returned her hug and held her tightly, distraught. Outraged. Just fucking done.
“Sit,” she instructed.
Breathing heavily, he followed her order. He didn’t have it in him to protest. He was fucking spent.
“Symphony, bring us a round of beers,” Kendall said crisply, ignoring the girl’s wide eyes and the absolute silence in the place.
She addressed the room at large, mainly workers from a nearby construction site.
“Assholes, you’ve seen nothing. This is a family dispute.
” Drawing herself up, she narrowed her eyes at Digger. “What the fuck did you do?”
“Nothing!” he yelled. “Why it got to be me anyway, Kendall?”
“Because you’re an immature, greedy, unappreciative, spoiled manbaby, motherfucker. Mortician will only lose control over you and his wife. Since I see hide nor hair of that bitch, you’re the fucking bitch of the day.”
Mortician didn’t try to defend Bailey.
“I resent that!” Digger spat.
Words deserted Mortician. Fuck, logic took a walk, too. What the fuck was wrong with his wife and brother?
“Zero fucks to give what the fuck you resent, fuckhead.” Kendall stepped aside so Symphony could set the drinks on the table, then dug into the pocket of her fur coat and held her key fob out to the waitress. “I have a stack of business cards in my glove compartment. Get them and pass them out.”
Symphony dried her hands on her apron, then grabbed the fob and rushed away.
“I need to set up an expense account for fuckheads and assholes,” Kendall grumbled, glaring between them. “I wonder how much this will cost to clean up.”
“Kendall—”
“Move over,” she interrupted Digger, shoving next to him. She snatched napkins from the silver holder and held the stack out to him. “Wipe the blood from your fucking lip.”
Once Symphony returned and handed out the cards, Kendall said to the patrons, “Call me tomorrow. A thousand dollars for each person here as long as you sign an NDA and develop amnesia about this incident.”
Sanity was returning to Mort and, with it, the enormity of what he’d done. He’d never lost fucking control and put himself or the club at risk.
“I’ll ask Outlaw to have Stretch review the footage,” she continued. “To see if anyone left since this began.”
“If they did, then we fucked,” Digger grouched.
Symphony handed Kendall the fob and the leftover business cards.
“Thank you, hun,” she said, smiling at Symphony. “How’ve you been?”
“Fine,” she said. “You’re married to Johnnie, aren’t you?”
Mort went on alert at the question. He didn’t know if Symphony was fishing for herself or because she wanted to make small talk.
Kendall nodded.
“I haven’t called him back about the footage from the other night with Diesel and that guy.”
“I’ve been sitting my fucking ass here for almost two goddamn hours and you just mentioning it now?” Mortician demanded.
“Please get some pussy, Mort,” Digger snapped. “You the grouchiest motherfucker ever ‘cause your cock so ignored.”
“Motherfucker–”
“You’re a fucking disrespectful asshole,” Kendall interjected, glaring at Digger.
“If there wasn’t so many witnesses, I would’ve let Mort kill you.
Now, shut the fuck up and stop talking about his wife.
” She looked at Symphony, ignoring the hungry look she gave Mort.
“You were here when Diesel got into his fight?”
“Uh, yeah,” Symphony admitted, dragging her smoldering gaze from Mort.
“What happened?” Kendall asked.
“He told me to go in the back when that dude walked in.”
“Who picked the footage?” Kendall demanded. “You or Tee?”
“Me.”
“Then you know what the fuck’s on it, Symphony. Who started the fight?”
Instead of stalling any further, Symphony answered Kendall and told them the events of that evening and the work she’d had to do to clean up all the blood.
“Get the footage,” Kendall instructed. “I’ll bring it to Johnnie.”
“Okay.” She started to turn.
“Oh, and hun?”
“Yes, Kendall?” she asked politely, throwing Mort another come hither look.
“Mortician is everything to me, so if you like your job, your apartment, and your life in Hortensia, back off. I might think Bailey’s lost her fucking mind, but as long as she’s married to Mortician, his cock belongs to her.
If you tempt him into something he’ll regret, I’ll make you fucking regret the day you were born. ”
“He might not regret it,” Symphony replied.
Kendall smiled viciously. “That just shows how little you know him, so fuck you.”
A mutinous look entered Symphony’s eyes, but Mort was feeling more himself.
“Get the video, Symphony,” he told her.
“No! She can’t throw her weight around. It’s the same thing they all do.” She glared at Kendall. “I don’t appreciate your threats.”
“Symphony, baby, Kendall not a woman you want to take on,” Mort said, smiling fondly at Kendall. “She formidable.”
“Mort’s a grown man, Kendall,” Symphony said, ignoring him. “If he wants pussy from me, there’s nothing you can say to stop it.”
Calmly, Kendall sipped her beer, then set it down. “Tee!” she shrieked, scaring the shit out of Mort, Digger, and Symphony.
The motherfucker rushed from the kitchen. “You called me, Kendall?”
As if she’d smelled a fucking crate of onions, Kendall burst into tears. “I can’t take Symphony anymore!” she wailed. “I-I’m going to have to t-tell J-Johnnie.” She hiccupped and swiped her wet cheeks. “A-and O-outlaw.”
“No. No, you don’t.” Tee turned to Symphony, her shock almost comical. “You fired. Get your shit and go.”
“But–”
Kendall sniffled. “M-maybe, if she apologizes, I-I can give her one more chance.”
Sweating, Tee grabbed napkins from the dispenser and handed them to Kendall. “I don’t want–”
“Pl-please, Tee?” she said in a small voice. She released another sob. “For me? I-I…it’s been such a long day at work. I shouldn’t have even c-called you.”
“No, it’s fine,” Tee swore, and looked at Mort. “Tell her.”
“C-can I talk to Symphony?” Kendall asked woefully. “And can you make me some fresh French fries, Tee?”
“Coming right up. Symphony’ll pay for them,” he announced and hurried back to the kitchen.
“Now, Symphony,” Kendall sneered, dabbing at the last of her tears. “Let’s try this again.”
“Get the fucking footage and leave Mortician alone while he’s married. Do we understand each other?”
Symphony blinked at her. “Perfectly. Er, do you need anything else?”
“Not a thing,” Kendall said sweetly.
Once Symphony stumbled away, Kendall gulped her beer and glared at Mort.
“I wouldn’t betray my wedding vows,” he said defensively.
“Listen, motherfucker, there’s a woman behind those vows. If you don’t give a fuck if you betray her, then I’m going back to my office and draw up your goddamn divorce papers because your marriage is over.”
“Draw up yours while you at it, Kendall,” Mortician barked before he thought better of it.
At the look on her face, he wanted to take the words back, but he was just so fucking tired and frustrated.