Chapter 14 – Mortician #4
“Fine, Bailey,” Mort said in a thick voice, so devastated he didn’t even care that his cheeks were suddenly wet. It barely registered that Roxanne had rushed to his side and hugged him, in tears herself. “I’m leaving. I’ll start divorce proceedings immediately.”
“No! I don’t want you to leave, Lucas!” Bailey buried her face in her injured hands. Blood seeped through the bandages. “Mama, talk to him. Don’t let him leave me, please.”
“Bailey, sugar…” Roxanne swallowed, tears spiking her lashes. “What do you want the boy to do?” she asked hoarsely.
Instead of answering, Bailey shoved the covers aside and got to her feet, trying to stumble toward him but too unsteady to do so. Droplets of blood stained the thigh area of her silk pajamas, along with splotches he assumed were alcohol.
Roxanne rushed to her daughter, since Mort was too frozen to move. Bailey’s words competed with her state. As hurt as he was, her drunken, repetitious ramblings wasn’t about him. Although Roxanne had Knox and Grant, she, Harley and the boys would need Mort, too.
“I’ll get a big glass of cold water for you,” Roxanne said once she got Bailey back in bed. “Drink all of it for your mama, okay, sugar?”
Bailey grabbed Roxanne’s arm, once again bringing her bandages to attention. “I want to die, Mama.”
Fearing her reaction to his voice, Mort remained silent.
“Rest, Bailey.” Roxanne kissed Bailey’s forehead. “We’re going to get you help.”
“I just want Lucas. I want my husband. I love him. I don’t care if he slept with Kendall. Just make him stop. Lucas is a good man. The best thing that ever happened to me. I love him. I want Lucas.”
Wiping his cheeks, Mort walked to the other side of the bed and crawled in, gathering Bailey into his arms and holding her close.
Her vanilla scent always mesmerized him.
Today, she smelled like alcohol, sweat, blood, and vomit.
He didn’t care. As long as he could help her and protect her, keep her safe in his arms, nothing else mattered. “I’m here, Bailey.”
She curled into him and sobbed. “I’m sorry. I love you so much. Don’t leave me. Please. I’ll do anything.”
“Just love me for real,” he told her, massaging her warm, sweaty scalp. “As long as we communicate and love each other, respect each other, we’ll get through this.”
She nodded. “I’m not feeling good. My hands and thigh are hurting,” she mumbled, sounding like a distraught child instead of an educated career-woman.
“What happened to you?” Mortician asked.
“Alcohol,” she answered cryptically.
He lifted a brow at his mama-in-law.
Tears slid down Roxanne’s face. “She cut her hand breaking into my glass liquor cabinet. That injury is visible. She has others. I-I had to move all the alcohol behind lock and key. I…she has a problem, Mortician. I’ve been trying to talk her into rehab, but—”
“My wife need rehab, and nobody told me?”
“She told me not to tell you, so I respected her wishes.”
“If I go to rehab, will you divorce me?” Bailey suddenly asked, her voice small. “I-I can’t lose you, Lucas. I don’t want to lose you.”
Mortician turned his attention to his wife, who still looked younger than her almost thirty-eight years. If she continued on her current course, though, her beauty would fade.
“I’ll stay with you. I’ll do whatever makes you happy,” he swore, knowing he couldn’t possibly leave her during a time like this.
If he left her at her lowest, he was no better than that lowdown fuckface he wanted to murder.
“But, baby, you need help. You can’t…you hurt yourself.
Let your mama take you to Hortensia General.
I’ll pack you a bag and swing by in a little while. ”
Depending on the severity of her injuries, they might keep her overnight. While she was safe there, and away from alcohol, he’d find a top tier rehab facility for her.
Bailey nodded and relief swamped him. “Okay. Just…don’t be too long, okay?”
“I won’t be, pretty girl.”
She rested her head on his shoulder and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. Only when a small snore escaped her did he relinquish his hold.
“Get Knox to help her to the car,” Mortician ordered, gently laying Bailey down, before he stood. “I got something to do. I’ll meet you there.”
Roxanne grabbed his wrist when he started toward the door. “Sit your ass down, boy. This is why I didn’t want you to find out, because you’d do something dumb.”
“Fucking dismembering Johnnie not dumb,” he growled. “It’s goddamn necessary.”
“He's still VP,” Roxanne snarled, smacking the side of his head. “What the hell is wrong with you? You fuck up Johnnie at the club, this will become a club matter. You’ll be lucky to just get sanctioned. Don’t break Bailey’s heart by being a stupid motherfucker, baby.”
Damn it all to hell, she was right. Her words tore through his haze of anger.
“Let’s take Bailey to the hospital today, Mortician,” Knox advised.
Roxanne nodded. “When she’s in r-rehab, then you get your revenge. I’ll pack her a bag and meet you at the hospital. You take her.”
Returning to the bed, Mort scooped Bailey into his arms and kissed her forehead.
As much as he wanted to find Johnnie, Bailey took precedence and always would.