“But why?”
“You need rest, Harley. A cell phone will interfere with that.”
“But—”
“Now.”
“I’ve been texting Mattie since you told me I couldn’t spend the day with her and Rebel at Aunt Meggie’s.”
“Absolutely not. Once I consult with attorneys, I can’t say that you’ve been spending time with one of the defendants.”
Harley frowned. “What did Rebel do?”
“You don’t mean Reb, huh, Bailey?” Mort asked. “You mean CJ.”
“He saw the fucking photos, too. If Ryan truly wanted to help Harley, he should’ve come to you himself. No, those boys wanted to humiliate my baby.”
“That isn’t true, Mommie!”
“You’re too young to know about these things, baby,” Bailey said.
“Harley, baby, go to your room. Let me and your mama talk for a minute.”
“Daddy, CJ can’t get in trouble for trying to help me! Please.”
“Let me walk you to the staircase, baby girl,” Mortician said, not giving either one of them a chance to speak again. He guided his daughter down the hall by her elbow and halted at the staircase. “Did you really give Ryan permission to take those fucking photos?”
Harley’s nostrils flared and tears filled the eye not swollen shut. “No,” she whispered.
“Was it a video?”
“I don’t…” She sniffled. “Maybe. But please don’t confront him. Please, Daddy. I swear it isn’t what you think.”
“Anytime Outlaw won’t let me fuck up Johnnie, I know he won’t allow me to fucking break Ryan in two.”
“Ryan isn’t the bad guy and neither is CJ.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I promise.”
“I want to move back and sleep on the sofa now that you home, baby girl.” Mortician drew in a painful breath. “But if you prefer Zoann, I’ll ask if you can go back to the log cabin.”
“Will Mommie let you come back home?”
Probably not, especially after they talked. “Maybe.”
Harley gave him a skeptical look.
“We’ll see.”
“Has no one ever thought about building two or three houses for emergency use on club grounds?”
“A fucking oversight,” Mort grumbled.
“Definitely.”
“Go upstairs.”
