Chapter Forty-One – Kendall #2
“Whatever his reasons were, he shouldn’t have put himself, my son, or my nephew in danger.”
He winced. Whether his regret was real, Kendall didn’t know and she didn’t give a fuck.
“Would you have shot them if he didn’t kill his own brothers?”
“I wouldn’t have.”
“The entire club had guns drawn.”
“We didn’t think the stupid motherfucker would do it, Kendall. Cleaner or Tom Harris would’ve wounded him, but I didn’t want Christopher blowing us the fuck up if Johnnie went missing. If it’s any consolation, I understand why he did it.”
“It’s none. Zero. He’ll die if the general membership ever discovers he killed his own brothers, so fuck you.”
“He was trying to save Ryan and Rory.”
“Who shouldn’t have been there in the first motherfucking place,” she snapped. She felt like shooting his fucking arm off, not only his fucking fingers for endangering the boys. “They won’t care. Nothing comes before club loyalty.”
He glanced away.
“Does Meggie own the fucking club, Bash? Be honest with me.”
“I told you I’d take care of it?”
“How, motherfucker? How?” she shouted. “You haven’t said that.”
Huffing, Bash glared at her. “I don’t know if she owns—”
“Bullshit. I’ve hired people to watch you—” She hadn’t but she didn’t have much else to work with.
She definitely didn’t want to put Hopper and Randolph at risk and reveal the fucking letter her fuckhead husband destroyed.
“I received photos of Randolph Foy and his mother in Salt Lake City. Why were Hopper and Snake’s son there? ”
His blank look and hard stare chilled her. Unnerving silence wrapped around them, but she refused to drop her gaze.
“He brought me the documents,” he said finally. “They aren’t originals. Those are in someone’s attic in New Orleans. Whose, I don’t know.”
New Orleans? Did he really say New Orleans?
“New Orleans?” Kendall echoed to be certain.
“Yeah.”
Holy fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Kendall prayed her expression gave nothing away. Immediately, she knew the location of the originals. In Roxy’s old house.
“K-P’s bitch had a house there,” Bash said, confirming Kendall’s worst fears.
“Unfortunately, she bought it after they broke up. If it had ever been in his name, I’d search it.
It was hers, though, free and clear from him.
Or, if she’d continued going to the club on a regular basis after she popped his split tail out of her cunt.
None of that happened. She cut all ties. ”
“She did,” Kendall responded with as much equanimity as possible. Although she’d still talk to Christopher and Roxy, Roxy was safe. “There’s also been several natural disasters. The house might’ve been destroyed.”
“It’s useless to me, so I don’t give a fuck.”
“Was Big Joe set up? Was his death orchestrated?”
“Where are you getting all this information from?”
“Letters. I’ll overnight you copies if you’ll just answer my questions.
Reading that bullshit makes my fucking head spin,” she said crossly.
“None of those motherfuckers kept their dicks in their pants. All the goddamn branches on the family tree are as intertwined as the fucking vines at Sleeping Beauty’s castle. ”
He roared with laughter and she chuckled.
“You should laugh more,” she said when the moment passed. “It softens you.”
His smile turned sad, bittersweet.
“No room for softness, Kendall. Daddy taught me that.”
“Look where that got him. You could’ve tried something different.”
“No greater man than Cee Cee.”
Kendall cocked her head to the side. “Motherfucker though he was, he had something Sharper Banks, Logan Donovan, and Wallace Bart never did—loyalty. He tried to protect Big Joe Foy.”
“Can’t protect a dumb motherfucker.”
“He was blindly loyal to Logan.”
“He was stupid,” Bash said flatly. “Damn good president. Put broads on a pedestal. Had a fucking head for numbers and business. Adored my aunt, Meggie, and Christopher, but he was stupid because he couldn’t see Logan for the motherfucker he was.
If Logan had only fucking died, they all might still be alive.
Sharper went off the fucking rails trying to one-up Logan. ”
“Logan set-up Big Joe.”
“You know why.”
“I do.”
Bash sighed. Scrubbed a hand over his face. “Logan set up Christopher, Kendall.”
“To kill Big Joe.”
“To kill Christopher.”
“Excuse me?” That hadn’t been in any of her documents.
“Do you honestly think that motherfucker would give up trying to get rid of Christopher?”
“But—”
“With Christopher gone, Logan figured Big Joe wouldn’t want to get clean so fucking bad. Meggie was almost ready to be sold. If Christopher was dead and Meggie missing, Logan would’ve offered fatherly comfort. It just didn’t work out that way.”
Kendall drew in deep breaths to right her equilibrium. She couldn’t believe…fuck, who was she kidding? She believed anything with those violent fuckheads. Her mind spun. Words from the letters she’d read turned over in her head. “They didn’t expect Christopher to get the drop on Big Joe.”
Bash nodded. “Joe was a crack shot. Quick on the draw. The student surpassed the teacher.”
“Snake—Joey—was in on the plan, I take it.”
“As much as he hated Christopher, he wouldn’t have risked his father.”
“Either way, one of them would’ve died that day.”
“Unfortunately for them, the wrong one died. K-P wouldn’t sit the fuck down.
He was always snooping. Stupid fuckhead.
I don’t know what he was waiting for. Instead of telling Christopher as soon as Big Joe was killed, or when Meggie arrived, he kept that shit to himself.
Logan disemboweled him then skinned him. Sharper told Cleaner, who told me.”
Covering her face, Kendall took a moment to herself to process the new information. The stories kept changing. She still didn’t know who or what to believe. Bash accounts were mostly second and third hand. The letters could be used as firsthand accounts, but who the fuck knew?
“Patricia’s murder—”
“Pissed Cee Cee the fuck off. He didn’t sanction it. Whether he hated her or loved her, she was still his wife. Rack and Snake were lucky they were already fucked up. The fact that they also tried to kill Christopher? Yeah, those motherfuckers would’ve suffered.”
“They wanted to kill Meggie, too.”
“She was never supposed to live.”
“She was pregnant, fuckhead,” Kendall yelled.
Bash snapped his brows together, raised his fingers and counted. “Fuck. With CJ?”
“Yes.”
“Well, goddamn. It’s a good thing that little cunt survived. Boys carry on the Caldwell name.” He frowned. “Though those three little psychos should be glued together and hung out to dry.”
“I take it you mean Ryder, Ransom, and Axel.”
“That’s their names? I heard they were called the Trembling Trio or some shit.”
She laughed. “It’s the Terrible Triplets.”
“Psychos,” he insisted.
“As opposed to you, Cee Cee, and Christopher?”
Bash puffed out his chest. “Caldwell genes. You know you’re a Caldwell?”
“I’m well aware.”
“Why don’t you have that name?”
“Johnnie was raised as a Donovan.”
“When he discovered the truth, he should’ve changed it to Caldwell.”
“Claiming one degenerate over another?”
“Caldwells are worlds above Donovans. Especially Logan Donovan.”
“I can’t argue with you there.”
Through the window, she saw Johnnie staring in her direction. Val was leaning against the wall, drumming his fingers. Mortician sat on the sofa, tense and angry. As long as Bash was willing to talk, she’d ask questions but she’d get to the bottom of whatever the fuck Johnnie did to hurt him.
“Do you know a woman named Marion?” she asked, diving back into it.
“Nope, but I know a motherfucker named Marion. Well, I don’t know him personally. Big Joe knew him.”
“Why would they give someone the road name of Marion?”
“His road name is Jazzman.”
She jerked as if he’d shot her, and her eyes widened. “You’re fucking kidding? Father Wilkins is named Marion?”
“Yep. Why? What role does he play in this twisted tale? I thought I was onto something, but his rectory burned down before I could search it.”
Fuck her. She didn’t want to get the priest killed. “I saw the name Marion on a sticky note in one of the files.” She could lie with a straight face. “I thought she was someone’s mother.”
“It’s possible there’s another Marion. As you said, we stick our cocks everywhere.
” He gave her a boyish grin. “I wouldn’t mind sticking my cock in you.
I bet your cunt tastes delicious. I’ll lick it raw, then come hard and deep in you.
I’ve rarely wanted to pleasure a woman,” he breathed, “but I do with you.”
“Uh, th-thank you,” she said, completely disarmed once again. Psychopaths were notoriously charming.
If he’d veered just a little more toward the middle, he could’ve easily lived the type of lives Johnnie, Christopher, Mortician, and Val did.
Certainly, their criminal activities left them morally bankrupt.
Yet, even then, there were shades. Their souls weren’t completely blackened—dark gray. Tarnished. But not black.
“You tried to fuck Christopher,” Bash growled, his mood changing. “I’m not good enough to fuck?”
“That was wrong of me,” she responded, knowing if she cowered, he’d grab her or shoot her. “I loved Johnnie then and I love him now. I’ve never thought if you’re good enough or not, Bash. I love my husband,” she said for the thousandth time that day.
She ignored his glower and powered on. If he didn’t want to answer any more questions, the meeting would end.
“I need a way to contact Hopper.”
“Why?”
She had a ready excuse. “I want to talk to her about Jana Reynolds.”
“Johnnie’s daughter?”
Bash provided the answer to the question that had haunted her. Somehow, she managed not to fall to pieces. What did they say about killing the messenger? And she’d have to deliver that news to Johnnie? “Yes. I want to know how that bitch kept that hidden from my husband.”
Bash’s eyes lit up, but he didn’t offer the number. “They’ve had a DNA test?”