Some of them had fucked her in her effort to make Derby jealous, Diesel included. Not that it had mattered to Derby. Nothing she did seemed to matter to him, until he’d lost her and left him grief-stricken and inconsolable.
After spending most of the fucking night and morning with Derby and sending out texts to clue motherfuckers in, Christopher was still in fucking shock.
Even the announcement that he’d reached a tentative agreement with Bash seemed hollow and inconsequential. Fuck, yeah, it was to protect the club and their families for as long as it held up, but Gypsy’s death overshadowed what should’ve been a defining moment.
First order of business was discussing how they’d honor Derby’s woman at her services. Then, he’d talk about Bash and finally, Diesel’s birthday. Even if Christopher didn’t want that motherfucker to make it to Saturday. He didn’t deserve another fucking birthday. Unfortunately, Megan overruled himandinsisted they go ahead with their gifts.
If that made his woman happy, he’d fucking do it.
It had been a long fucking day and he hated to leaveMegan, but club business took precedence. The sooner he got through Church, the sooner he could get home and hold Megan tight, thanking his lucky stars she was safe.
Christopher had just signaled to Slipper to lock the door so church could get underway when Kendall burst in, a fucking baseball bat in hand.
“Kendall—”
“Kendall?” Johnnie’s questioning tone drowned out Christopher’s call.
She didn’t hear either of them. Wild eyes searched the room.
“Red, what the fuck—”
She zeroed in on Potter and Mort halted his question.
“Motherfucker,” she snarled, flying at Potter and swinging.
He ducked just in time. She swung again, evading every scrambling motherfucker in her path.
Potter, that stupid motherfucker, ran behind the bar, cornering his own dumb ass. Lucky for him, she found a new fucking target and destroyed every goddamn bottle of liquor…the glasses…two of the monitors…before she turned to Potter again. He was screaming like a pussy.
Mort reached her first. Blinded by rage, she turned and swung. Motherfucker was lucky he was so quick on his feet.
“Mom!” Rory yelled.
Johnnie ran to her. “Kendall, stop!”
Gripping the bat in both her hands, she raised it above her head.
Christopher grabbed his .9mm and fired into the air. The bullet lodged into the ceiling, dusting mangled sheetrock over the podium. The report, however, startled her and she jumped, giving Mort a small window of time to grab the bat while Johnnie wrapped his arms around her.
She struggled against his hold. Potter yelped. Although Christopher couldn’t see, he was pretty fucking sure she’d kicked him.
“If you look at my fucking daughter, I will kill you,” she snarled, hatred blazing in her eyes. “You sponsored those two motherfuckers who gave my daughter drugs at a high fucking cost. You know what they say about the company you keep?”
“I’m sorry, Kendall,” Potter sobbed. “I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t know about—”
She jerked again. He moaned. More than likely, from another kick.
“Next fucking time, find the fuck out.” Fury blanketed her face again. Somehow, she escaped Johnnie, her fists swinging.
“Kendall, fuck!” he puffed, trying to pull her back, and only succeeding because Mort assisted.
“Red,stop,” he ordered, helping Johnnie to wrestle her from behind the bar. “Stop, now!”
Val shoved one of the younger members off a barstool, so Mort and Johnnie could force Kendall onto it.
Christopher let her rage because she needed to get it out. After Monday, he was surprised she’d lasted this long. Mattie had probably opened up to her ma and set Kendall off.
With her own history of sexual assault, they were lucky she hadn’t brought a gun and shot the fuck out of Potter. Motherfucker was guilty by association. But he was a solid brother, who’d followed the rules, which was why he’d gotten off with a warning when it happened.
