Christopher
Instead of doing any of the myriad tasks on his agenda, Mortician dropped everything to check on Kendall.
When Prez texted, he thought it would be a matter of going to her office and talking to her for an hour or two, allowing Mort to resume his plans of scoping out Dead and Dead, Jr., AKA Ned and Nardo Grevenberg.
He’d spent longer than intended at the hospital yesterday, securing Molly on the club’s wing. In turn, that pushed his plans back a day. Now, he was with Kendall. Either he had to fuck up those motherfuckers without CJ or he had to push their deaths back another day.
A part of him wondered if he was finding every fucking excuse in the motherfucking book to not fuck up Nardo, the fuckhead who needed it most of it. But he was underage—a kid—and children had always been a hard no for Mortician.
Harley was a kid, too, and just thinking of his distaste at the possibility of having to kill Nardo himself left Mortician guilty. It felt as if he betrayed his baby girl again.
Of course, instead of comforting Kendall or bitching out with Nardo, there were a bunch of other things he could’ve done as well.
For instance, he could’ve found a way to fix his fucking mouth to talk to Prez about everything Bailey revealed. Or he could’ve talked to Prez about that video that continued to haunt him.
He could’ve checked on Digger. Sharpened his knives and all the other tools he intended to use on Big Dead, and lend to CJ for Dead, Jr. He could’ve called Bunny and asked what she intended to do. Digger seemed to think his woman planned to leave him.
He could’ve done any of those things, but he’d taken one look at Kendall and knew ordinary conversation wouldn’t help. Harley was safe at school because Marvey promised Mortician he wouldn’t allow Nardo on the grounds.
Mort didn’t know if he wanted to bury Big Dead alive, then dig him up when he was on the brink of death to torture him.
Sticking his hands in acid would be a good ass appetizer, then burying him alive, and then torturing him.
And what about disposal? If CJ came through, he suspected the kid’s participation would end at Dead, Jr’s death, leaving Mort to get rid of him, too.
Even if Johnnie found out about that, Mort would remind that motherfucker there was nothing against disposing a young fuckhead.
Dropping daddy and son in a barrel of acid would save time. Except that was too fucking much consideration. Those two motherfuckers didn’t fucking deserve to melt in the same vat.
Dismembering and burning the remains could work.
That also seemed too fucking easy. On the other hand, Mortician wasn’t about to dig fucking graves for them.
A simple burial was too fucking dignified any goddamn way.
Woodchipper would also work, although Johnnie was the operator of that machine, and Mortician would sew his own fucking lips before he asked that motherfucker to help, even with Big Dead.
“What are you thinking about?”
Kendall’s voice seeped into his thoughts of violence and gore, bringing Mort back to the present. He inhaled the tangy air and enjoyed the crashing waves.
They sat atop a lookout point, cresting above the Pacific Ocean and the beach below. If they wanted to sink their bare feet in the sand, they just needed to take a short hike to the shoreline.
Mort shrugged. “Shit you don’t need to know.”
“Murder?”
“Justice.”
“Your brand,” she said with a smile.
“I guess so, Red.”
“Did he tell you he’s letting me be a club attorney again?”
“Who?”
“Christopher.” She glanced away. “O-outlaw.”
Although it was a shocking turn of events, Mort understood Prez’s decision. First, he wanted to know something else. “He told you to call him Outlaw again?”
“No. It’s just that…Johnnie…it would probably make him feel better.”
“Nothing but a fucking bullet would make that motherfucker feel better,” Mort snapped, hating Johnnie more than he’d ever hated anyone. Even Sharper.
Kendall’s face fell just as a breeze lifted her red hair. During their ride over, she’d put it in a ponytail. The moment they sat after spreading their blanket, she’d taken it down.
“I’m so sorry, Mort. Whatever he did to you.”
“It’s not your fucking place to apologize.”
“He won’t.”
“I wouldn’t accept it, even if he did. I’m never forgiving Johnnie.”
“What did he do?” she whispered.
Mort hadn’t come to burden Kendall with his problems. He’d taken Kendall on a day trip to help her through her turmoil.
She crawled closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder. “Tell me,” she coaxed.
Drawing in a deep breath, Mort scrubbed a hand over his face. If he knew anything about Kendall, it was her unrelenting determination. She wouldn’t give him any peace until he told her, so he did.
“Now, Bailey insisting I leave the club because of Johnnie,” he said bitterly.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, wiping a stray tear, which made Mort feel particularly low. “Chris…Outlaw is paying for DNA tests for everyone. We’re going to figure out who’s related to who once and for all.”
“No shit?”
Lifting her head, she nodded. “Those fuckheads couldn’t keep their dicks in their fucking pants,” she grumbled. “I can’t make sense of the records because most of them are falsified.”
“When are we doing the tests?”
“It’s supposed to be tomorrow night at a special family meeting. I suppose by the time we get back, he’ll have everything arranged. It has to be done.” Kendall swallowed and looked so vulnerable, Mortician was concerned for her mental health. “For Jana. To see if that’s Johnnie’s daughter.”
“If she is, how you feel about that?” he asked carefully.
Kendall was smart. She heard something in his voice or saw his expression. “You knew?”
“A chick named Hopper involved?”
“Yes,” Kendall whispered.
“Then, if Hopper her mama, I knew there was another kid in the family. Snake thought it belonged to him, but Lowman was about to shoot the fuck out of Hopper, so we made him think the kid belonged to Johnnie.”
“And Logan didn’t kill her anyway? He allowed a club girl pregnant with his precious grandson’s child to live?”
Mortician considered Kendall’s words. She had every right to be skeptical because Logan Donovan believed Johnnie to be perfect, above every motherfucker associated with the club.
He definitely wouldn’t have wanted Hopper to be the mother of Johnnie’s kid.
When he thought about that video, though, maybe there was another explanation.
“We might’ve bought just enough time for Lowman to think about how much Big Joe liked Hopper, so he let her live,” Mort speculated. “Or, maybe, the other girls he’d fucking killed that day was enough to appease his bloodlust. Who knows with that motherfucker?”
“Oh my god.”
“Jana might not belong to Johnnie. She might be Snake’s. Fuck, or even Big Joe’s.”
“Meggie’s sister or niece, instead of my stepdaughter.”
“Yeah, baby, so don’t stress until you got a reason.”
“Have you ever considered what it would’ve been like if you and I got together?” she asked without warning.
Before he answered, Mort lit a cigarette and enjoyed the nicotine rush. “Got together? As in a hook-up?”
“A hook-up or a relationship.”
Smiling, Mort slid his fingers through her hair, went for another hit of nicotine, then nodded.
“When I first met you, I thought you was so fucking gorgeous, Kendall. I wanted you. I often tell myself I stepped out of the way for Johnnie, but I’d already met Bailey.
Maybe, if she hadn’t stolen my heart almost from the moment I laid eyes on her, I would’ve challenged that motherfucker for you.
But I don’t know. Back then, Johnnie was so different, and I just wanted him happy. He was so fucking miserable.”
“Because of Meggie.”
Mort wouldn’t answer.
“Do you think he truly loves her?”
“I think he thought he loved her. I think he wanted her because she spurned him.”
“Did you want Meggie?”
“Who didn’t, Red? But she was young and alone. Once I stopped wanting to kill her, I saw she needed a friend, someone to rely on when shit got bad. I love Meggie like a little sister.”
“Is that how you love me?”
“I count you, Prez, and Meggie as my best friends. You and Meggie are still so fucking different. She got more in common with Ophelia and you got more in common with Zoann.”
“I take umbrage on Meggie’s behalf,” Kendall snapped. “Explain yourself now!”
Mortician squeezed the cherry of his cigarette to extinguish it. “Ophelia the homemaker and Zoann the career woman. That’s what I mean.”
“Then you should’ve said that in the first place,” Kendall said with a sniff. “I wouldn’t want a spineless moron like Ophelia as my friend.”
Mort refrained from reminding her she’d claimed differently once. Tucking hair behind her ear, he said, “Say there was no Bailey and I’d murdered Johnnie and buried that motherfucker in a salted tar pit?”
Her eyes widened.
“You wouldn’t feel fucking strange if you and me suddenly jumped naked in front of each other?”
“Have you ever heard of friends to lovers?”
Cocking his head to the side, Mortician studied her. “Are you asking to be my lover?”
Flushing, Kendall dropped her gaze and then sighed.
“The idea has merit, but I would be nothing but a hypocritical bitch after the Symphony Incident.” Tears rushed to her eyes again.
“It’s just that it’s been so long since Johnnie has been kind to me.
Even when we went away, it was tense and miserable.
You dropped everything Sunday and today.
For me. I just wish Johnnie…” Her voice trailed off.
“It doesn’t matter. Wishes are for children. ”
“You love Johnnie.”
“No, I actually hate that motherfucker,” she said crossly.
“Why don’t we go explore the town? We can eat dinner and have a few drinks. Talk a little more before we head back to Hortensia.”
“I like that idea. I’ll call Mattie in four hours when she’s home from school.”