“I need the money and this is still my fucking business. Besides–”
They were wasting time with the back and forth, so Mortician looked at Symphony. “Go in the back. Don’t come out until I fucking tell you.”
“You motherfuckers not always around,” Tee snapped as Symphony ran to the kitchen. “You’re putting me in the middle of club shit that could getmekilled. I got a fucking family—”
Mort opened his cut and pulled out his .380. Shutting the fuck up, Tee sucked in a breath.
Ignoring him, Mort indicated Gypsy. “Go outside. Call Meggie. Tell her to send Outlawnow.”
“That’s Junior,” Gypsy repeated, not moving her ass. Derby had trained her to listen to the wrong fucking thing. Instead of coaching her to ask questions later and get the fuckimmediately, he taught her to fear disobeying him. “What did he do?”
“I’ll explain later,” Mort told her.
“I shouldn’t leave you. Derby will never forgive me if I get one of Outlaw’s brothers killed.”
“I can take care of myself,” Mortician swore, trying not to lose his patience with her. “Just listen to me.”
She slid out of the booth, but shestilldidn’t fucking leave.
“Get the fuck out, Gypsy,” he ordered, waving his gun and pointing it toward the door. “Go.Now! This shit not feeling right.”
“Will you be okay?” she pressed.
Mort grabbed her elbow and started pulling her toward the door.
She dug her heels in and he stumbled at the sudden dead weight of her body. “Wait, Mort. Maybe, if I suck his cock, he’ll be easier—”
“Fuck! No! You don’t have to do that, Gypsy.”
“I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to you.”
“Nothing happening to me, but I don’t want nothing to happen to you.”
“Let me stay. I’ll just be a bundle of nerves outside. Derby doesn’t trust me to stand at his side. I promise I won’t get in the way.”
Gritting his teeth to swallow his anger, Mortician focused on the fear in Gypsy’s eyes. “Follow my fucking orders and everything will be fine,” he promised her, lifting her to throw her over his shoulder to carry her the fuck out.
A gunshot sounded, and she went limp in Mort’s grip, her dangling feet twitching. He didn’t have time to process the full fuckery of the situation because he had to save his own fucking life. Somehow, he kept one arm around her and jerked them out of the way, squeezing the trigger.
Wally, Jr. howled, struck somewhere. “A bitch for a bitch. That settles the debt for my Eliza, motherfucker.”
Breathing heavily, Mortician released his hold on Gypsy and got to his feet. Wally, Jr. stood near the jukebox, the left side of his jeans bloody from a thigh wound. He met Mortician’s eyes and raised his hands.
There was no way to explain coming into the diner and shooting Gypsy in cold blood. She’d had nothing to do with Eliza Bart’s death. Besides, she’d given that motherfucker shelter.
Asking no questions and wanting no fucking answers, Mortician shot Wally, Jr. once in the heart and once between the eyes, then ran back to Gypsy.
Blood trickled down the side of her head—only the whites of her eyes showed.
Derby’s old lady was dead.
After a long, leisurely bath with Megan and more fucking, Christopher enjoyed a delicious meal of pot roast, roasted carrots and potatoes, fuckingsalad, and dessert.
Mattie and Harley left before dinner, and Bunny didn’t stick around, so it was just him, Megan, their kids, Bishop, and Kaia. Megan tried to coax Jana to join them, but she declined, instead taking her food in Diesel’s room, even though he joined the family.
They’d just gotten to the den to spend time together, when Mortician called and ruined his fucking night with news he never expected to hear.
Mortician heaved in a breath. “Gypsy dead, Prez.”
