Rampage: Boiling Point (Death Dwellers Legacy Generation #8)

Johnnie

She huffed and set the delicate China cup back onto its saucer. It was one of her favorite tea sets with pretty emerald flowers and gold rims on both pieces.

She’d been taken there as a hostage when it was little more than metal and concrete with a lone window and little ventilation. Mortician had gone easy on her, a fact she never forgot and appreciated to this day.

She glanced at her laptop again. The screensaver had kicked in so she slid her fingers across the mouse pad to further contemplate the house.

It was pretty, simple by the standards she was accustomed to living but vastly better than where she’d grown up. More importantly, it would be hers, bought with her money.

Much like the house and land Christopher gave her ten years ago, Johnnie would have no say in it. This time, she wouldn’t sell it and put the money in their joint account. The joint account, like her marriage, would be over.

She allowed that thought to settle inside her soul.

Johnnie had been her essence for so many years.

The man she’d held onto when Spoon and Logan kept her drugged right after her mother’s suicide.

She hadn’t even known Johnnie’s name then, believing she’d never see him again the night she’d driven away from the clubhouse.

Nor had she thought she’d survive those two fuckheads.

But Johnnie had been her beacon, her savior.

He’d kept her grounded in those dark days and beyond, when she’d been sent back into his life.

However else he felt, whatever spot she held in his heart, didn’t matter. He’d just been her Johnnie.

A bittersweet smile curved her lips and she glanced at her teacup again. This year, Rory’s birthday, his fifteenth, was barely a blip. So many other things took precedence. She’d given her son a gift and a big hug, hoping…expecting Johnnie to be her Johnnie.

Not the new iteration of him that she loathed. The idiot who thought he knew everything. The “victim” who didn’t care about anyone.

But nothing. Johnnie hadn’t even bought Rory a gift.

There was always next time.

Dejected, Kendall jotted the contact information for the real estate agent, exited the website, and put her laptop in sleep mode before closing it.

Marital problems could wait. They would be there tomorrow.

Girding her resolve, Kendall unlocked the desk drawer with all the files she’d been trying to figure out at Christopher’s request. Most of the mountain of documents were properly organized into birth certificates (at least two for some of them), marriage licenses (not many of those), letters (too fucking many of that group), and wills (the most fucking frustrating of all).

There were also bills of sale, deeds, mortgages, spreadsheets, ledger entries, club documents, gun licenses, bank statements back when they sent canceled checks.

The issue wasn’t the stacks of folders. It was the fact that most of what she had meant nothing because there was no actual official records in state databases. Granted, the canceled checks proved payouts and the bank statements showed real deposits, but county documents? State records?

Those fuckheads falsified the majority of them.

Growling in frustration, Kendall opened the top folder and snatched her to-do list. She added a trip to New Orleans at the bottom.

Fuck, that should be at the top in big, red letters.

However, Kendall had to inform Roxy that the house where her mother lived might hold some of the original documents.

Somewhere. Maybe buried in the backyard?

A basement? Did Roxy’s house even have one?

New Orleans was prone to flooding. Basements might not be safe.

An attic?

She just needed to get in that fucking house. It didn’t matter if Bash said he’d take care of it. The fucking can of worms had been opened. Before it was resealed, Kendall wanted a resolution for all parties involved.

Suppose there was nothing to find? She would’ve alarmed Roxy and Ms. Pearllene for nothing. Perhaps, before she said anything to Roxy, she’d look on Louisiana’s database for vital records.

Damn it! She was a dumb ass. All this fucking time, she’d been chasing ghosts when she could’ve gotten accounts on genealogy sites that offered all types of historical records.

Deeds, birth certificates, marriages licenses, death certificates…

well, maybe not death certificates. Motherfuckers who just disappeared probably didn’t have one.

That would be a good starting point. She’d have answers for Bash, Christopher, and Johnnie. Motherfucker that her husband was, he still deserved the truth. Whether he accepted it was up to him.

But Bash was the bridge between the original members and the succeeding ones.

She added genealogy sign-ups to tomorrow’s schedule, then listed the states connected to Logan, Cee Cee, Sharper, Rack, Big Joe, and K-P in some way for more than just club ties: Alaska, Washington, Oregon, California, Virginia, and Louisiana.

She added Nevada. In one of the letters, she remembered one of those assholes mentioning Big Joe first meeting Marion there.

That little fuckhead.

She also added Georgia. Sharper had supposedly burned to death in a hotel fire there. Although he turned up at his own funeral, there must’ve been a reason he’d chosen to go to the Peach State.

If she added sons and grandsons, which might be a good idea, she’d include Utah and Florida.

It would be a starting point on the sites she signed up to because zeroing in on certain states would narrow billions of records to a few hundred million. The more information she added, the narrower the search would become until, hopefully, she found what she sought.

Her ringing cellphone interrupted her thoughts. ‘Unknown’ popped on her screen. She glanced at her watch. She had two hours before Hopper was supposed to call, but maybe she’d decided on an earlier time, so she answered.

“Kendall?” a woman said hesitantly.

It was Hopper. She knew her voice because she’d just heard it yesterday when Johnnie tried to get both Kendall and Hopper killed.

“Hello, Hopper,” Kendall said.

“Are you…are you free?”

“I’m in my office. Behind closed doors. With no one around,” she added carefully.

An exhale whooshed in her ears. “I was so fucking worried you’d set me up.”

“I would never do that.” Kendall grabbed a notepad and a pen to take notes. “Bash wouldn’t have taken kindly to knowing about your letter or knowing I was playing him to get your number.”

“I hope I was convincing enough.”

“You were perfect.”

Silence and then, “how is everyone?”

“By everyone you mean…?”

“The guys. Meggie. I did what I could to save her.”

“We looked for you for a long time,” Kendall said. “Outlaw had a reward for you.”

“For m-me?”

“Meggie told him what you did. We were all so appreciative. He isn’t too pleased with Randolph, however.”

“Does he want to kill him?” Hopper squeaked.

“As far as I know he’s on Meggie’s No-Kill List.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Mind-blowing, I know,” Kendall said. “I will explain another time.” She needed to get home, shower, and change for tonight’s get-together after she visited Molly to check on the poor girl. “For now, I’d like to focus on the matter at hand. Specifically, the letter.”

“You mentioned something happened to it.”

“Johnnie happened to it,” Kendall said grimly. “He tore it up before I could read it.”

“I’m sorry. I thought I was sending it to your office.”

“You did, honey. Another long story.” That would make her cry because it just showed how greatly her husband had changed. “You wouldn’t happen to have made a copy of your letter?”

“I couldn’t leave any evidence. I cover my tracks as best I can, but I don’t trust Cleaner not to have followed me and reported back to Bash. If either of them ever shows up and want to search my place…” She heaved in a breath. “They’d kill me.”

“Bash cares about you.”

“As much as he can,” Hopper said quietly. “He thinks he’s in love with you.”

“I never encouraged him.” Hopper’s sadness was like déjà vu, reminding Kendall of all the similar conversations she’d had with Meggie about Johnnie’s feelings. “I’d never betray Johnnie.”

“It’s fine, Kendall. I was happy with my quiet, dull life until my son turned into a fucking asshole.

Were Bash to take me as his old lady, which he himself admitted he’s never had, I probably wouldn’t be long for this world.

Cleaner is jealous of anyone who might influence Bash.

And Bash is a lunatic when he’s high. When he isn’t, he’s oddly charming and always hilarious. ”

“He is,” Kendall agreed, jotting key points of Hopper’s conversation on the notepad.

“He called me last night. He told me about the promises he made to you. My letter was unnecessary.”

Kendall would address that in a moment. “Do you think Bash intends to keep those promises?”

“I do.”

“Even when he’s high?”

“Yes. He’s quicker to kill and force a woman to his will when he’s under the influence. He’s more brutal and he feels more keenly, but he remembers the deals he’s made. He also really wants a coalition with Outlaw. Only something drastic would make him change his mind.”

“Thank you for that information.” She set her pen aside and debated on asking her next question, but she really wanted to know about Jana. “I have something else to ask—”

“Bash told me how hurt you are about Jana,” Hopper inserted. “I never confirmed yesterday when you called her my daughter.”

Kendall had noticed. “Is she?”

“She is.” Hopper sighed. “Please don’t blame your husband. This is on me. I kept it from him. Amy was so much better than me. My sister was married and just checked all the boxes I wanted for Jana, especially stability.”

At the moment, Kendall didn’t know how to feel. “Weren’t you Snake’s old lady?”