misunderstoodebook (18 page)

Mortician rolled his eyes. “In your fucking Navigator. Where you told me to put her, John Boy.”

Johnnie turned to the door, anticipation and lust thrumming through him. “I’m headed to Long Beach.”

He hoped like hell his dick listened to his brain, and not the other way around.

Chapter 11

Kendall decided she’d atrophied into the curled up position Mortician had arranged her in. She wondered if her mouth would ever feel moist again. The gag prevented her from screaming and absorbed every bit of moisture in her mouth. She doubted it would ever feel wet again. The cloth was tied just enough to do its job but not enough to cut into the creases of her lips.

He hadn’t hog-tied her, leaving her one thing to be grateful for. Still, handcuffs around her wrists and ankles left her immobile. Topped off with her legs and feet stuffed into a sack and bound nice and tight with rope made Kendall feel like a pig in a blanket.
And
the asshole made her strip to her bra and panties, just in case she’d been related to Harry Houdini, she thought bitterly.

The hysteria that had set in as Mortician carried her away had abated the moment she’d gotten undressed.

Standing in her underwear, she’d gone still. Then her trembling began and the expectation of being violently assaulted slammed into her.

Mortician had lit a cigarette, the scent of it removing the god awful odor, some type of rancid, sweet smell that turned Kendall’s stomach.

He’d stepped toward her and Kendall shrank back.

“I like my dick and fingers attached to my body.” A drag on the cigarette and another sweeping consideration of her body. “
Those
motherfuckers happen to enjoy being a part of me, too, so, Red, fucking behave.”

He hadn’t attempted to move toward her again, allowing her predicament to settle in. She wasn’t tied up nor was she really hurt.

“What do you want from me?” she’d asked.

“Answers.”

“I can give them to you here. Now.” The ones she had. “He doesn’t have to take me anywhere.”

Not responding right away, Mortician continued smoking as he grabbed a can of Lysol and sprayed. Talking to himself—inventing a few new words—he’d gotten bleach and splashed on the long counter across from her. Something red and disgusting combined with the bleach and dripped onto the floor.

“Digger fucking right about fucking work conditions in this motherfucker,” he mumbled and opened the smallest window Kendall had ever seen before cracking the door a little.

The fresh air swirling in relieved her until he stopped at the foot of the table he’d laid her on and chopped her clothes away with shears.

“Fuck, man.” He dangled the cigarette from his lips. “Get up.”

She stayed put, her blood running cold. “What do you want to know?”

Impatience furrowed his brow and he swept her into his arms. She clutched his neck in reflex. “I’m standing your ass up, Kendall. Unless you want to smush your face, balance yourself.”

He set her down and allowed her a moment to steady herself. She bowed her head and wrapped her arms around her body, shielding the parts of her he’d left covered in bra and panties. But she couldn’t help herself. He was there to torture information from her. She couldn’t give him any more ammunition and allow him to point out all her defects.

Like her toe nails. They needed polishing. A chair shoved against the backs of her knees and she squeaked, plopping down and gripping the edges.

Mortician threw his cigarette on the floor, then stomped it out. He reached for a burlap sack and threw it over his shoulder. What
was
this place where they had sacks and gloves and plastic bags and all kinds of instruments?

The meat shack.
That’s what Johnnie had called it.

“Why is it called the meat shack?”

Mortician glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to, Red.”

“Okay. About Johnnie taking me—“

“We know John Boy don’t need to take you anywhere.” He opened a cabinet and grabbed two pairs of handcuffs. “
He
knows it, too.” Mortician’s hands were massive. They had the ability to do a lot of damage to her. She gauged the distance to the door while he had his back turned to tie his dreads with a leather strip. “John Boy taking you, though, and there’s a reason.”

She didn’t have clothes on. If she succeeded in escaping, she’d put herself in danger.

“What reason—“

He spun and glared her into silence.

“I have to get you fucking ready to go.”

Her brow furrowed and she raised her gaze to his. He jingled the handcuffs, similar to the ones Guard and Goon liked to use on her. She backed against the chair and Mortician gave her an under eyed look.

“You giving me problems?”

She shook her head.

“No arguments?”

“No.”

“Cool.” He stepped forward and she slid back, the chair scraping against the concrete floor. “C’mon, Red. Behave.”

“Do you have to tie me up?”

Mortician nodded. “You’re the enemy.”

“I’m not. If anything
you’re
the enemy,” she snapped, then apologized at his fierce frown. They just made her so comfortable. But they were still who they were. Her biker was Logan’s
grandson
. The man before her was the club enforcer. Instead of seeing what might not be in Johnnie, or any of them, she needed to remain on guard. “I’m sorry. Don’t hit me.”

“We’re the fucking enemy, huh, Kendall?” Mortician reached for her and she didn’t want to anger him further by fighting back. “Our background check turning up all kinds of bullshit on you and how you in with the Torps. That means
you
the enemy. A fucking spy. A bitch we supposed to fucking bury. Johnnie knows what we supposed to do. I know what we supposed to do, but you fucking breathing, huh? Worse, I’m his fucking bitch ass accomplice. That mean if you fuck him over, both me
and
him getting fucked up by Outlaw. As in tiny, little fucking toothpick sized buzzard hor d’oeuvres made of our asses.”

Kendall licked her lips, unable to stop the tears rushing from her eyes at the images Mortician conjured. “Outlaw’s cruel.”

“Outlaw got to keep fucking order. That mean keeping motherfuckers in line. We grown ass men, Red. We know what the fuck happens when we don’t follow the rules. So that’s on us. But I feel where he coming from. If a bitch I’m fucking hot for got into trouble with the club, I’d risk my fucking life to protect her, too.”

Mortician crouched down in front of her and drew her feet together, unfastening the cuffs and hooking them around her ankles.

She thought about his words and how they were risking their lives on her behalf. She swallowed, nervous for them. “Two Torps are at the corner of the street, waiting for me to leave.”

“’Preciate the Intel, Red.”

She ignored the comment and asked “how will I get to Johnnie’s car?” at the same time he said, “Why are they waiting for you?”

To return her to her prison, shackle her to the bed, and force pills down her throat. “Spoon wants to keep tabs on me.”

Mortician grunted. “As for how you getting to the Navigator, I’m carrying you. How the fuck you think? That I’d blink us the fuck over there?”

His comment started a laugh from her and he grinned. “I’m heavy,” she said when she’d shoved her giggles away.

“Says fucking who?”

Says
her
and everyone else she’d ever allowed close to her. God, the power of these men. Mortician had her opening up while she sat in her bra and panties and obediently allowed him to restrain her. There was no turning back now, so she might as well get to the heart of the matter. “I’m huge.”

“Bitches fucking trip all the goddamn time.” Mortician scrubbed his jaw. “Don’t start nothing and it won’t be nothing. Hear me?”

Kendall made a moue of her mouth. “I hear you,” she retorted with a sniff. “I just don’t understand you.”

“Don’t fucking point out what you think your flaws, baby. See me? I’m one simple motherfucker. Give me pussy. Make me laugh and you’re solid in my book. If you don’t point out your flaws, I won’t ever see them.”

“You do. All men do.”

“Worry about shit that matter. You gorgeous, okay? I’m not a bullshitting motherfucker. If you was some ratchet, hot mess, I’d tell your ass. You have legs that go on for fucking days. Make a man have wet dreams. All that flame-colored hair. Not to mention your beautiful face, Red.” He stood and peered down at her. “Stop fishing for fucking compliments, girl. By the way, you ever tell John Boy I noticed
anything
about you, I’m denying that shit.”

“It wouldn’t matter to him,” she said, almost giddy at the thought that it
would.

“Hold your fucking hands out, Kendall.”

She inched forward on the chair, hoping her trust wasn’t misplaced. “Do you have to cuff my hands?”

He gave her a brusque nod, a muscle ticking in his clenched jaw.

Once he had her hands secured, he crouched down again and began stuffing her legs in the burlap sack, speaking as he worked. “Lowman a fucking evil wizard, warlock, motherfucker. He set Prez and John Boy off in different ways. Lowman should be fucking dead, but John Boy got to work through his feelings. Realize the motherfucker no good.”

“He doesn’t know that?”

“You know how the fuck it is when you know something but you don’t
know
something. You keep hoping what you know not true. That’s John Boy with Lowman. Straight up. Help my brother along, Kendall.
Tell
Johnnie whatever the fuck you know about his deranged fucking grandfather.”

“T-tell him? Tell him what?”

“Whatever Lowman did to you.”

She lowered her lashes, not realizing tears were falling down her cheeks until Mortician swiped them away.

“I’ve been knowing Johnnie a long time and he like you. A lot. There’s a lot of bullshit going on right now, so he can’t focus on you. But, trust me, when I tell you he’ll overcome his hesitation and blow Lowman the fuck away when the time right. First, though, John Boy need to know his grandfather hurt you.”

“He didn’t hurt me,” she whispered on a sob. “He hurt my little sister. He
took
my little sister and he’s making her do all kinds of disgusting things—“

Mortician’s brown skin turned a few shades of gray and he choked, getting to his feet and staring at her like she had two heads. “Fuck, man. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He covered his face with his hands, then walked in a tight circle. “Lowman twist situations to his benefit all the fucking time. He that type of assfuck. A manipulating motherfucker.” He lifted her into his arms without strain and headed outside.

Now, she lay in the back seat of Johnnie’s navigator, the conversation with Mortician replaying in her head as afternoon slid into early evening and the temperature cooled a few degrees. Chill bumps marched across Kendall’s exposed chest and shoulders and a shiver traveled through her. She had strength. Somewhere. She just had to dredge it up.

Men strolled by with shotguns resting on their shoulders, in complete disregard for any laws. Kendall remained still, trying not to move an eyelash, not wanting to give them a reason to shoot. Unless, one of them framed their hands against the door to leer at her. Then, she squeezed her eyes shut. Every time—

“If you don’t get the fuck away from my ride, I’m pistol-whipping you, motherfucker, and
then
blowing you the fuck away.”

Kendall startled at Johnnie’s growl.

“Sorry, John Boy,” a guy muttered. “We keeping an eye on that hot bitch back there and her big titties almost falling out that little bra.”

“Yeah,” someone else added. “We were trying to figure out how we could do her since her mouth is gagged, her hands are cuffed, and her ass and pussy are covered.”

“Not to mention your door is locked,” the first guy volunteered.

“If my door hadn’t been locked, you two would’ve fucked her?”

Johnnie’s lazy tone gave Kendall the impression he intended to hand her over if they told him ‘yes’.

A “yep” followed behind, “yup.”

The alarm honked and lights flickered when Johnnie pressed his keyless remote and threw his door open. The minute the two men crouched to peer at her, Johnnie grabbed them by the scruff of their necks and banged their heads together.

It happened so fast, if Kendall had blinked, she would’ve missed it. She lifted her head to watch them drop to the ground, knocked out cold.

“You…what the fuck’s your name?” Johnnie muttered. A lighter flicked and he grunted. “New brother, get these two assfucks out of my sight. Explain to them if they wish to patch in, they don’t fuck with my ride and they don’t fuck with my business.”

“I’m Slipper,” the man panted. “And those my sons. They didn’t mean nothing, John Boy. We figured an enemy of yours is an enemy of ours.”

“A creed to remember,” he agreed without inflection. He had the best poker face in the world. “But when shit’s under control, don’t interfere without permission. As I fucking recall, the order’s to patrol. Not fucking look and not fucking touch.
Especially
a woman in my SUV. Your boys are lucky my doors were locked. They would’ve ended up…” His voice trailed off. “Just consider them fucking lucky. Got me, Sock?”

The gag bit off Kendall’s laugh. Smart ass. Johnnie knew the man’s name
wasn’t
Sock.

“Er, Slipper. Remember? The first time I visited here I ate too much and vomited all over, then slipped in it.”

Erm, disgusting.

“Must’ve missed that auspicious occasion,” Johnnie said dryly, slamming the back door shut and opening the driver’s side and reclosing it while Slipper still chatted away. Johnnie turned the ignition and started off to an unknown destination.

Kendall hoped wherever he took her allowed her to see another sunrise tomorrow.

Chapter 12

20 years before

Johnnie was going to lose this fight. The three boys had jumped him on his way home from school in a dirty move. The ringleader—the one Johnnie had challenged to meet his fists after school—had corralled his two lackeys because he was too much of a dickwad to face Johnnie on his own. Although the coward accepted the invitation, he hadn’t shown up at the appointed meet place, so Johnnie had started home and gotten rewarded with a surprise.