Molly
Someone slammed a hand against his back and Easton spun around, fists raised.
Until he saw Cleaner and Wally, Jr.
He scowled. “Why’d you fucking hit me?”
“Why you skulking outside Bash’s office?” Cleaner replied.
“Deciding if I want to go in.”
“Move your ass,” Wally, Jr. said, his voice cracking. His eyes were swollen and red. “My Eliza’s still missing and I need to ask Bash if he got any lead on her.”
Sighing, Easton knocked on the door.
“Come in,” Bash called.
Opening the door, Easton walked into Bash’s spacious office, unsurprised at seeing Tom Harris sitting in a chair in front of the desk.
Bash’s pale green eyes traveled from Easton to Cleaner and then to Wally, Jr. At seeing the little motherfucker’s state, he lifted a brow.
“What the fuck’s wrong with you?”
Wally, Jr. burst into tears. “I think you know Eliza’s dead, Bash.” He doubled over and howled, slapping his thighs over and over, and stomping his little feet.
Easton couldn’t say if Bash, Cleaner or Tom was more shocked at Wally, Jr.’s display.
“Those motherfuckers killed my bitch!” he finished.
“What motherfuckers—”
“The Dwellers, Bash,” Cleaner said, staring at Wally, Jr. with a fierce frown. “She went there for one of their girl’s initiations. Remember?”
“Nope.”
“We ain’t heard from her since, Bash.” Wally, Jr. cried, rearing back and weeping copiously, his small body constricting. “It’s almost a month now.”
“Remind me why the fuck that stupid cunt went there?” Bash asked.
Wally, Jr.’s shoulders shook. “She wanted Ryan. She enjoys riding his face.”
Bash stared at the wild little man, blinking rapidly. “So let me get this fucking straight. You allowed that bitch to go to a Dweller event looking for a Dweller son where Dweller fathers were?”
“That about sums it up,” Wally, Jr. admitted, his chin wobbling and his nose snotty.
After a moment, Bash nodded. “Yeah, that bitch’s dead and buried by now.” He shrugged. “You’re a stupid motherfucker and she’s a stupid cunt. Fitting end.”
Wally, Jr. stared at Bash, his throat working. A noise escaped him, then his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed.
Cleaner drew his brows together. “Did he just fucking faint?”
Bash picked up his pen again. “Looks like it. They’ve been together twenty or twenty-five years. Take him to his room. Send some pussy in. Make sure they’re riding him when he wakes up. That should get him over Eliza.”
Easton doubted two decades together could be forgotten because of a fuck. Bash wouldn’t understand though, so he didn’t point out that Wally, Jr. would grieve for awhile.
“What the fuck do you want?” Bash demanded once Cleaner scooped Wally, Jr. into his arms and walked out.
“They want Molly back, Bash,” Easton said.
Bash ignored Tom Harris’s snicker. “They think you can get her back?”
“Ryan and Rory recognized me,” he admitted for the first time, though that event had occurred in Johnnie’s office weeks ago.
Bash roared with laughter. “Those two young pups recognized you, but Johnnie didn’t?”
“I talked to Ryan frequently when he visited,” Easton reminded him, shifting his weight. So far, Bash hadn’t gotten agitated, which he counted as a good sign. Hopefully, he continued choosing his words carefully. Aunt Celia wasn’t around to run interference. “It makes sense that Ryan knew me.”
“So Ryan asked you to get Molly back?”
He’d already decided honesty—as much as possible—worked best. Fewer complications later.
“It was Rory.” Going into all the details of that meeting wouldn’t serve any purpose but to piss Bash off.
Just as he had to take care with what he said, Easton had to pick his battles.
Molly lived day-to-day by Bash’s stability. Not a good place to be.
He spared a glance at Tom Harris. “Rory wants me to negotiate her release.”
“How’d you earn your colors?”
Easton lifted his brows at Bash’s unexpected question. “Excuse me?”
“You forced your cock in a bitch, slit her throat, or killed a motherfucker?”
“I killed someone.”
Bash grunted, picked up a piece of paper and read it. “Got an interesting invitation today.”
“That so?” He didn’t know who’d willingly invite Bash anywhere.
“From Kendall Donovan.”
That shocked the fuck out of Easton, and he sputtered. “Johnnie’s wife?”
“The same. She wants to meet with me at her office in Hortensia as soon as I can get there. Know anything about that?”
He sure the fuck didn’t. Rory must not have known either. No way would that kid not find a way to protect her.
“They don’t let me in on that type of shit,” he reminded Bash, which was the truth. “Outlaw doesn’t trust me.”
“Because of Meggie,” Bash said flatly. “That little slut has him twisted around her fucking finger.”
“I say you chop them off,” Tom said with glee.
Easton clamped his mouth shut.
“You were supposed to be getting close to her.” Bash roared to his feet and yanked open a drawer. “Instead, you’re some bitch boy for one of their cumsquirts?”
“Bash—”
He grabbed something from the desk drawer and stalked to Easton, then lifted an 8x10 of Meggie naked in her spa bath.
“I want her, Easton. Her. You can’t bring that cunt to me, don’t—”
“They need some way to trust me,” Easton interjected.
Bash shoved the photo against Easton’s face and twisted it, before pulling it away and allowing it to fall to the ground.
Tom Harris’s snicker added to Easton’s humiliation but he forged on.
“Meggie’s innocent,” he argued. “She knows nothing about any of this. Tabitha hates her, but even she concedes Meggie’s clueless.”
“She won’t be for long!” Bash’s unfriendly reply earned more laughter from that flunky.
“Why do you hate her so much?”
“I don’t like small chicks,” he yelled, his eyes wild. “I hate those cunts.” He jabbed a finger at Easton. “You know that,” he snarled. “I’ve already told you.”
“You hate most cunts,” Easton replied, injecting as much respect into his tone as possible. So fucking hard to do when dealing with Bash. “Isn’t Meggie’s someone’s little sister?”
It was the only card he had to play. It worked last fall when Bash sent that psycho, Tío, with Easton to help a biker by the name of Roman Mac, whose little sister had been in danger.
So distracted by his thought, Easton didn’t see Bash until the motherfucker gut-punched him and doubled him over.
This entire situation was a clusterfuck.
He’d hoped burning the rectory would remove the possibility of anyone ever finding the will.
Or at least give the illusion that it was gone.
Father Wilkins was savvy and cutthroat, not so far removed from being a criminal instead of a man of the cloth.
Once Bash discovered the building had gone up in flames, he’d dismissed that avenue.
“That cunt got her brother killed, too,” Bash screamed, reminding Easton of the conversation. “She’s no little sister. She’s Outlaw’s bitch!”
“She’s Johnnie and Val’s little sister. Yours, too.”
A heavy silence fell in the room before Bash’s maniacal laughter came again. “By marriage, fuckhead, so don’t try to fucking play me. She’s our little sister-in-law. There’s a difference. And you fucking know I don’t hate all women. I love Celia, and Kendall…” He grinned.
As far as Easton knew, Bash only met Kendall in passing. Breathing hard, he gritted his teeth and forced himself to straighten. His stomach was throbbing. “Have you been stalking her?” he asked, hating his weak tone. The motherfucker knew how to inflict damage.
“Stalking Kendall?” Smirking, Bash looked at Easton, his eyes twinkling. “Why would you say that?”
“You seem a little…fascinated…with her. If you’ve never met her, how can that be? My reports have mostly been about Meggie.”
“A bit of stalking along with her husband running his big stupid idiot mouth about her. The motherfucker doesn’t deserve her,” Bash reiterated. “He can’t protect her. Not like I can. Kendall is tall and gorgeous like Hopper. I like both of them.”
“Two fierce women. Meggie’s fierce as well. You said so yourself.”
“But she’s little—”
“Suppose Aunt Celia was little? Would you hate her?”
“She’s different,” Bash snarled, on the verge of more violence. “She could be the size of an elf and I’d love her. Most small sluts are abusive bitches and easy to fucking break.”
Abusive bitches? That was a new one.
Easton didn’t want to give Bash a pass for all his many crimes against women, but he’d bet the irrational hatred stemmed from his own trauma and injuries.
“Fuck her! FUCK Meggie!” Bash yelled, droplets of spit flying in Easton’s face. “Fuck her.”
“Bash…Dad.” Easton kept his voice soothing. “I like Meggie. You’d like her too if you’d stop seeing the cunts who abused you in her.”
Bash’s eyes widened.
“Who knows?” Easton continued. “If you work with Outlaw, instead of Johnnie, you may get satisfaction.”
Clenching his jaw, Bash glanced away. It was the first time Easton had ever seen a hint of vulnerability from the man. Aunt Celia believed Bash cared about family in his own way. She believed he’d had feelings for Easton’s mother, explaining why he’d so easily accepted him when he showed up.
“Was my mother tall?” he asked, long wanting the answer to that question, but hoping Celia was right and he’d break through Bash’s unreasonableness. “Did you force yourself on her?”
He’d never asked about his birth mother. Though he considered Bianca DeLuca his mom, he still wished to know about the woman who shared his DNA.
Bash scratched his bald head, decorated with tattoos. “How much do you know about her?”