Serious once more, Kendall slid the chair forward and leaned her elbows next to Meggie. “Back to Rule.”
Biting her lip, Meggie nodded.
“I appreciate our friendship and love you like a little sister. Your children are as dear to me as if we shared blood. As your big sister, anyone who fucks with you, fucks with me.”
“I know.”
“Right now, I’m talking to you as Rule’s aunt and a woman with her share of mental issues. We both know your son needs help. Don’t turn your back on him, darling.”
She’d seen Christopher aim his gun at Rule and pull the trigger. If Mortician hadn’t knocked away Christopher’s hand, Rule would be dead. At that time, Meggie hadn’t had any charity in her heart. Her daughter was on her lap, barely conscious, and Axel was inconsolable. She hadn’t cared what happened to Rule. He’d been dead to her. Once she was loaded in one of the ambulances, numbness had set in, and she still hadn’t cared about his fate.
If he’d been dead, so be it. Same if he’d evaded Christopher’s retribution.
Now, as she talked to Kendall, sanity was returning and Meggie was glad Rule was still alive to get help since she’d severely miscalculated his mental state.
A loud crash and a woman’s scream startled Meggie; she sat up. Kendall jumped to her feet and started for the door, but it flew open before she reached it.
Mortician rushed into the room, panic on his face and his lip bleeding. Kendall gasped, though the commotion in the hallway almost drowned it out.
“Fuck, man!” Mortician swore, glancing around the room, searching for something.
Alarmed, Meggie swung her legs over the side of the bed. “What…?”
Christopher stormed in, eyes wild. “Where’s he at, Mortician?”
He looked at Meggie, then back at Christopher. “Outlaw—”
“They did more tests on Rebel.” Christopher kicked the rolling table. “She got a collapsed lung, a concussion, cracked ribs, and a hematoma from the hit to the back of her head.”
Meggie gasped. “Rebel haswhat?”
Drawing his gun, Christopher ignored her and took a step toward Mortician.
“Prez,” Mortician started, rushing to the other side of Meggie’s bed and crouching down.
“Megan fucked up, too,” he roared, listing her injuries.
“Where’s Rebel, Christopher?” she demanded.
Christopher started in the direction of Mortician, still crouching out of view, but Kendall placed herself in his path.
“Move, Kendall,” Christopher ordered.
Unintimidated, Kendall folded her arms. “No, fuckhead. We don’t need you arrested.”
Christopher glared at Kendall.
“You’re too fucking smart to be so fucking dumb,” she grumbled, borrowing Brooks’s words. “Lose your fucking temper and there goes your reasoning, you big man baby.”
“Fuck off, Kendall. You one to fuckin’ talk—”
“Enough!” Their bickering didn’t interest Meggie. She needed to know about her daughter. “Where’s Rebel?”
“In the fuckin’ room,” Christopher snapped, glowering at Kendall, who still refused to move. “In critical condition. She woke up and just wanted mercy for that motherfucker. I played music, but her head been hurtin’. She need a tube to reinflate…” His voice cracked before he glanced in Mortician’s direction. “I’m givin’ you one more fuckin’ chance to tell me where he at.”
Mortician peeped over the bed, but Christopher shoved Kendall out of the way and aimed the gun at his head.
“Fucking asshole,” Kendall hissed, dusting off her silk blouse.
