“Do I have to bring Mommie my cell phone?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
“Okay, Daddy. If you can stay, I will. Otherwise, I do want to go back to Aunt Zoann.”
Fuck, he wanted to move there, too. Val and his woman were preferable to motherfucking Bailey.
Mort watched his baby girl make her way upstairs. The moment her door closed, he turned on his heel and stormed to the kitchen, where Bailey had retreated to.
She sat at the table in tears. “Go ahead. Blame me. I know you’re thinking that I’m the one who overruled you and let Harley go to Nardo in the first place.”
“Aren’t you?” Mortician barked, ignoring her crying. “You wallowing in goddamn guilt so you want to act like a ragingbitch. You’ve lost your motherfucking mind tellingPrezsister you calling the fucking cops. You want me fucking killed,” he yelled.
“I don’t!”
Mortician slammed his hand against a cabinet door. “You want me something, Bailey. You think I wanted to be right about that motherfucker—”
“Dad?” Lou called, rushing in with Kaleb.
For once, Mortician ignored his boys. At one time, him and Bailey rarely argued. When they did, they kept it private and away from their children. Maybe that’s why Harley never learned fucking conflict resolution.
“Not only do you want to get Ryan arrested, butCJ? CJ! Christopher Joseph Foy Caldwell.Outlawson.Meggieson. Wrap that around your motherfucking head then help me to.”
“He deserves to be arrested more than Ryan.”
“You want to fucking die too, right, Bailey? You so fucking guilty that you didn’t think my opinion was worth a motherfucking cent, that you want Meggie to have Diesel slit your fucking throat?”
Bailey covered her face and sobbed.
“Fuck you. Look at me, goddamn it. Look at me and tell me what the fuck is wrong with you. Because I fucking swear, Bailey, if I walk out that fucking door, I’m filing for divorce. Fuck you.”
“Lucas—”
“Daddy?” Harley whispered, her eyes wide.
“Dad, stop!”
Instead of calling out to him like Bailey, Harley, and Lou, Kaleb merely stared at him, his eyes teary.
“I love you,” Bailey said in a small voice. “I love our kids. But I’m so ashamed. I want to make someone pay.”
“And you think CJ and Ryan it?” Mortician asked incredulously. “You want Outlawson,CJ, to pay foryourfuckedupness? You wantMeggie…That’s her potato. She will watch you get fucked up if you fuck over her son like that.”
“Of course you’re protecting CJ, but what about Ryan? What’s your excuse for choosing him over Harley?”
“I don’t like that little motherfucker at fucking all, but he don’t deserve to go to fucking jail, Bailey. In case you fucking forgot, he Outlaw nephew.”
“Look at our baby girl, Lucas?” she ordered, waving a hand in Harley’s direction. “She’s battered, bruised, devastated, and humiliated. You can’t find Nardo? Fine. Fuck him. Ryan and CJ arehere! They need to pay.”
Mortician kicked the dishwater, not caring that he dented the door. “Even if they fucking did something, if you called the fucking cops, brought heat to the fucking club,Iwould pay. What the fuck don’t you understand about that? Why can’t you get that through your thick fucking skull?Stopfucking with Meggie. That can only end one fucking way. With me cut up and buried.”
“But—”
“Goddamn it,” he roared. “There’s no fucking buts, Bailey. None. Club code rules, and club code don’t involve fucking cops and lawyers.”
“The club has attorneys,” Bailey cried as the doorbell rang.
Scrubbing a hand over his face, Mortician leaned on the counter, hoping to control himself before Lou answered. He didn’t want his voice to carry.
