Misalliance (Death Dwellers MC #4.5) (9 page)

Dr. Stanton believes I’m covering my grief with these ideas. He says most mothers would take their child, in any condition. He says if I don’t feel this way, then I’m my mother’s daughter.

Am I? I don’t know. Perhaps, I am. Our earliest memories are our most influential. My earliest memory is my father loving me and my mother tolerating me.

What I wouldn’t give to receive maternal love. That will never happen, so it’s left to me to give it to the child I now carry and find a mother’s love for myself in my imagination.

Chapter 6: A Mother’s Touch

Not quite believing Roxy’s words, Kendall still decided to follow her orders. To pass the time, she showered and washed her hair then towel dried it, before wrapping herself in the robe again. By the time she finished, she’d used up almost the entire hour, so she made her way to Dinah’s room. Opening the door, Kendall’s mouth watered at the scent of food. Sure enough, Roxy fluttered about as Zoann sat in a chair holding Harley, on the mound of her belly.

Ignoring everyone, Dinah picked through a huge breakfast.

“That child is going to be spoiled for the arms,” Roxy complained.

Zoann cooed to her. “She’s already spoiled, courtesy of her father. But, in two days, you won’t have to worry about me. I’m overdue, so, if I don’t go into labor before then, I’ll be induced.”

“Val already arranged for me to watch over Ryan, so he could be with you,” Roxy said, indicating a nearby chair to Kendall.

Once she sat, Roxy brought over a plate of food that had been on the chest of drawers, covered with aluminum foil. She held it out to her, and Kendall greedily accepted.

For a few minutes, she and Dinah ate in silence, until Roxy shoved her phone beneath Kendall’s nose. “Do you like this style?”

Kendall swallowed the food, then grabbed the phone and glanced at the maternity clothes Roxy had pulled up. They were stylish, with a well-defined cut. “Yes.”

“What’re your favorite colors?”

“Um, black for now. Anything dark.”

Roxy’s brows snapped together. “Why?”

“It’ll slim me down.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, sugar,” Roxy swore, offering Kendall a smile, before sitting on Dinah’s bed and studying her nails. “You know who I am, Dinah?”

Instead of answering, Dinah continued to slowly chew.

“Bailey’s momma.”

Dinah blinked.

“K-P’s daughter. Remember her?”

A small smile tipped up her mouth. Only in her mid-forties, her hair had gone almost completely gray, and wrinkles lined her face. Dinah had allowed life to drag her down.

“I see that you do.” Roxy drew in a deep breath. “Remember your daughter? Meggie?”

Her body stiffened and her chin wobbled, making it obvious she did recall her.

“I take that as a yes, too. I’m going to be really straight with you. Meggie’s doing just fine with her husband. He loves her. She has him wrapped around the nail on her pinky, and her nails aren’t that long. But all girls need their mother. I’ll bet your baby would give anything to talk to you about your grandson.”

Thinking of her own mother sent tears to Kendall’s eyes. She wished Marie had been half as understanding as Roxy. As if Roxy understood her turmoil, she reached out her hand and grabbed Kendall’s, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Just the caring touch had tears escaping.

“You and me, we met years and years ago, Dinah,” Roxy said. “Remember? I was with K-P and Joe the night he met you. Do you remember that?”

The barest of nods.

“You think that man would want you to become just a shell? Would he want you to hate his daughter? Do you think K-P would want you to become
this
? If you ever cared about either of them, you’ll let us get you some help, so you can be the woman they both saw in you.”

Dinah swiped at her tears and, just when Kendall thought she wouldn’t answer, she croaked out, “K-P knew.”

“Knew what?”

“A-about what Thomas did. Meggie protected me until she met
him
.”

“She’s still protecting you. That little girl has never given up on you. As for Thomas…” Roxy sighed. “You’re letting him win. This isn’t about him, though. This is about you. I can’t make you find help for yourself, but I can ask you to. Honestly, this is some bullshit. What you’ve been reduced to. No man’s worth this shit. I loved K-P, more than I ever loved any other man, but when we separated, that was a wrap. One motherfucker tried to put his goddamn hands on me. That bitch is lucky he got away with both his fucking hands attached.”

“It isn’t as simple as you’re making it out to be,” Dinah protested.

Lack of use made her voice scratchy sounding.

“I know,” Roxy amended. “And I apologize if I made it so cut-and-dry, because every situation is different. But, sugar, he’s not around now. Don’t give that motherfucker the satisfaction of
this
.” She indicated Dinah with a sweep of her hands. “You really like Arrow watching over you? I could punch that motherfucker rather than have him watch over me. But you can’t do shit to him because you’re at his mercy.”

“No, I’m at
his
mercy,
Christopher,
” she spat for clarification, “and she’s just letting me stay this way. I haven’t seen her in days.”

“
She
is stuck at her house, her belly swollen with twins. As for
him
, he’s rougher around the edges than Joe, but Outlaw is that man all over again. You’ve got to get over your resentment of him.”

“It’s always been me and Meggie. She knew better than to tell anyone about Thomas. She would’ve had to leave me behind, and she refused to let anything come between us. Even the threat of Thomas hurting her, until she met
him
.”

Disgust dropping into her face, Roxy got to her feet. “You know what, honey? That’s the most fucked up shit I ever heard. But that’s bullshit for another day. Live on lost in your goddamn selfish world. I’m here for three weeks, so I’ll support your daughter as much as possible. You think about this. Zoann and Kendall don’t have one hope that their mommas will ever be there for them. They’re gone and no bringing them back. I hoped for a different outcome for Meggie, since you’re still alive. I guess I overestimated the woman Joe loved and K-P cared about.” She turned, scooped up Harley, and glanced between Zoann and Kendall. “Come on, sweetie pies. Kendall needs clothes and Zoann needs rest.”

Dear Diary,

To get understanding must I show it? Must I understand myself?

I’ve been in treatment exactly seven weeks today.

While I demanded Johnnie consider my feelings and understand me, I never really stopped to do the same with him.

How did I reach that conclusion, finally? We talked about my little sister, and my lack of consideration for whatever she said because I thought I knew best.

Caroline would tell me she believed couples didn’t have equal power in a relationship. What balanced it was the seesaw. Sometimes, one partner had more power than the other, but it depended on the situation.

“You’re an attorney, Kenny,” she’d chastise. “When you marry, if you don’t marry a lawyer, your husband may defer to you in legal matters. In that situation, you have the power.”

I’d scoff at her words, because I never stopped to understand
her
. I never appreciated her wisdom.

Although I still take issue with having my wedding planned by
MEGGIE
, I understand Johnnie’s intentions were good and came from a place of concern and not the deference to
her
that I’d pinned on him. In many ways, I had all the power. The only times he ever removed it was when he sent me on the healing retreat and….with the wedding.

He would’ve given me anything I wanted, but he wasn’t a mind-reader. To prevent misunderstandings, I should’ve spoken up, instead of expecting him to know what I wanted. Even without vocalizing my deepest desires, he knew. He understood me. He’d taken the time to listen to me.

He knew I wanted to marry him. He knew I wanted to live away from the club. He knew I wanted a bigger vehicle because I believed it would be safer for the baby. He knew I’d want a honeymoon. And he knew I wasn’t yet healed.

I leave here in five weeks. Once I’m out I’ll give myself a few weeks to adjust to working and, hopefully, normalcy again.

But, then, I’m going to Johnnie and make him love me again.

Chapter 7: Three Months

A few hours later, Johnnie returned to the clubhouse. Unlike the bustling activity of yesterday, a dull quietness blanketed the place. Stretch sat at the bar, keeping watch on the monitors, barely sparing Johnnie a glance.

For all of Big Joe’s and Christopher’s hard work at making the club what it became, everything they’d sacrificed seemed to be going down the shitter. The open parties they’d once indulged in weekly had been stopped months ago. Even then, they hadn’t had the same flair. At least, members had new women to fuck and new contacts to obtain.

The members-only rule hurt their reputation and their bottom line.

If Sharper wasn’t dealt with soon, the Death Dwellers would disintegrate. Other clubs would provide the brothers with what the Dwellers now lacked.

Brotherhood. Women.
Freedom
.

Megan, Zoann, and Bailey—the babies they’d delivered—had stolen the freedom of the club’s president, road captain, and enforcer. The fucking betrayal slowly eroded whatever remained from the divide the girls had created.

Everyone knew how Digger had fucked over the club.
Everyone
.

The MC had been unraveling from the inside out for fucking years. Instead of focusing on punishing the former sergeant-at-arms, Christopher’s undivided devotion stayed on Megan.

It made them weak and vulnerable.

Johnnie tightened his grip on the bags he held, just then remembering them.

His attention had scattered, too. It had been on Kendall. Even in her absence, she’d been with him. So, he couldn’t point the finger at Christopher, when he too, shared responsibility.

Like now for instance.

Without asking, Johnnie recognized that Stretch had a problem. Instead of redirecting his steps and sharing a drink with the club treasurer, he had an overwhelming desire to see Kendall. One that he wouldn’t ignore, not even in the name of
brotherhood
.

Nodding to Stretch, Johnnie continued on.

Four shopping bags in hand, he opened his door, and found Kendall in bed, pillows propped behind her, asleep. A magazine on home décor lay propped on her belly. The robe she wore—
his
robe—lay open and exposed the fact she still had on his dress shirt, the one she’d changed into the night before.

Not wanting to disturb her, he crept forward and laid the bags at the edge of the bed, allowing them to rest on the footboard. He attempted to ignore how sweet and serene she looked as she slept, her worries and stresses erased from her lovely face.

He told himself to leave. He’d only agreed to her staying with him until after the baby’s birth, so he couldn’t get used to her presence. But, in the light of day and with the envy of Mortician’s wedding over, Johnnie couldn’t escape how deeply he’d missed her.

Swallowing, he picked up the magazine and glanced at the pages she’d been reading before she’d fallen asleep. The two-page spread showcased a beautiful nursery, decorated in blue, yellow, and green.

“Hi.”

Her husky voice brought him out of his revelry and he blinked. He cleared his throat. “Hey.”

She sat straighter and winced, before stretching.

“Is this how you want the nursery?” he asked gruffly, not knowing what to say. He flipped the magazine around to show her, unsure if she’d just happened to have fallen asleep at this spot.

Seeing the baby furniture brought home how much he’d missed over the months. It also made him realize how soon he’d meet his son or daughter.

She nodded. “Do you like it?”

He almost lashed out at her again, but she looked so vulnerable and sounded so hopeful. He sat next to her, pushing his back up against the headboard. Sudden tension radiated from her. Not that he blamed her. He didn’t feel relaxed or comfortable, either. “Yes. You have very good tastes. Do you have a place with a room for the baby?”

“No,” she said in a small voice. “I wish I did.”

Leave it to Kendall to drop hints. Shaking his head, he allowed soft laughter to rumble from him.

She frowned at him. “What?”

“You’re still you, sweetheart,” he said quietly.

“O-okay.” Silence, and then: “Is that a compliment?”

“Yes.” Why hedge when Kendall needed reassurances that left no room for doubt? “You’re one-of-a-kind, and that is most definitely a good thing.”

“Can we—“

“I bought you clothes,” he interrupted, before she questioned him.

Could they try again? Could they start over? Could they talk?

Whichever question was on her mind, he couldn’t go there right now. He didn’t want to be angry with her. Nor did he want to argue with her. He just needed peace between them, always so elusive. From the moment they’d met, they’d been in turmoil with each other and outside influences.

Hurt flickered into her eyes, but instead of pushing the subject, she scooted down and grabbed two of the bags, dumping the contents onto her lap. She held up a black and white tie-dye maxi dress. Flushing and sidling him a glance, she checked the tags with the price and the size.

“Will it fit?”

She stiffened and sniffed. “Yes,” she said curtly.

In silence, she checked out the bra, panties, blouse, and slacks. Once she finished, Johnnie handed her the other two bags. He watched the various emotions on her face as she searched out the sizes of each piece of clothing and one pair of ballerina flats.

“I gave Roxy my choices for outfits I’d found online. She was nice enough to offer to go shopping for me,” she added in slightly defensive tones.

He rubbed his eyes. “Let me guess. I have to reimburse the cost of the shopping?”

“Um…well, I…we…I can tell her to take everything back.”

“What
is
everything?”

“I don’t know. She hasn’t returned yet.”

“Keep everything, if you’d like.”

“Johnnie, we need to talk,” she said quickly. “Instead of just dancing around each other and…”

“No.”

“Okay,” she mumbled. “Okay. Don’t talk then, but listen to what I have to say. Please?”

Clenching his jaw, he glared at her. Fuck her, but why couldn’t she let it go? Worse, why couldn’t he ignore the request entirely?

He gave her one, brusque nod.

“Someone once told me that there are some people we meet and we aren’t meant to have a long dialogue with them,” she began.

“They are walk-ons in our lives. We’ll have five hundred, one hundred,
fifty
words exchanged, and that’ll be the end of our association.”

Johnnie remembered these words. They were his, spoken in frustration when she’d refused to open up to him while he’d held her at his house. He hadn’t believed he’d gotten through to her. Apparently, he’d been wrong.

“Others, we spend years with and run out of words.” She licked her lips and waited for him to say something.

But Johnnie still refused to talk to her, right now. His frame-of-mind between yesterday and today had done a complete about face.

Kendall just had that effect on him.

“That isn’t the case with us,” she continued softly. “We have so much more to say to one another, an eternity of dialogue. You’re hurt and you’re angry, and I don’t blame you. Please, forgive me. G-give us another chance. D-don’t sleep with any other women. Let’s rediscover each other. We’ve both made mistakes, Johnnie,” she whispered. “We can get through this if we openly and honestly discuss everything.”

Her words rolled through his head, and he recognized all the…
fear
. Fear and vulnerability, emotions he’d never been in touch with, until he’d fallen in love. He hated both. It left him open to heartache, made him feel too human.

What could be loved, could also be lost, a fact he’d become well-acquainted with over the past two years. But he did love Kendall. His second love, but never second best.

He grimaced. “Fine,” he conceded tightly.

She started. Quickly recovering, relief softened her and she laughed. “Really?”

“Yes. Now, tell me what is it you want from me that I didn’t give to you?”

“Consideration,” she answered quickly. “You gave me a
surprise
wedding. Who does that?”

“Me,” he said without apology. “And I’d do it again, if it meant not seeing you stressing yourself out while you’re pregnant.”

Impatience flared into her eyes. “That’s because you’re a chauvinist. Poor Kendall. She’s too emotional to handle planning her own wedding.”

“Call it what you want,” he grumbled.

She sighed. “You could’ve told me.
Meggie
could’ve told me. Instead of sidelining stress, your attitude contributed to it.”

“Telling you would’ve defeated the purpose. As for Megan, she had no choice. I
gave
her no choice. Her loyalty was to you, not me. She chewed my ass out for my treatment of you.”

“Wh-what?”

“Ask her.” He shrugged. “Or don’t because, at this point, it doesn’t matter.”

“Every time I feel one way or the other about her, you always bring something new to light. Why? If not for you and Christopher, we might be real friends by now.”

“Do you want to be friends with her? If so, it wouldn’t matter what me or Outlaw said. You’d see her for who she really is.”

“I don’t think I can ever be friends with her. Not anymore. Not after what I know happened between you two.”

This fight was a dead horse, so he’d stop trying to push it. “As long as you two get along at social events, I no longer give a fuck. Megan is happy in her little world with her son, her pregnancy, and her husband. She doesn’t give a fuck who may or may not like her, as long as she has her family.”

“I think she has much more to offer than being Christopher’s cum receptacle, nanny to his children, and housekeeper at his mansion.”

“It isn’t
his
mansion. The title is in
her
name. His name is nowhere on it, anymore.”

“No way! She didn’t put one dime…”

“The club owns the property, Kendall,” he interrupted with impatience. “Megan owns the house. She’s his wife. She didn’t ask to have it that way. He just did it for her. I overheard Zoann and Megan discussing a home health care service or something. So put your mind at ease,” he added dryly. “Megan’s coming into her own, as a woman, and as Christopher’s wife. And he’s in the process of purchasing the land from the club, so she’ll have a free and clear title.”

“What about the house you were building for me?”

“What about it?”

“How big would it have been? Would it have been ours? Mine? Yours?”

“It would be ours. And I don’t know how big it would’ve been. I never thought about it one way or the other.” He glanced at her. “The one thing I won’t do is compete with
their
house.”

“You mean her house.”

He threw her an exasperated look.

“What about Zoann’s and Val’s house?”

“Designed like a log cabin,” he explained, and added before she questioned him, “Bailey’s and Mort’s is a two-story brick house.” He stared at the ceiling, thinking of tomorrow when they’d put the meat shack to work again, where he’d work side-by-side with Christopher.

He swallowed, Val’s words about Johnnie’s and Christopher’s differences replaying in his head. “Am I loyal, Kendall?” he asked quietly. “Completely loyal.”

“Oh my God, Johnnie,” she cried, nuzzling her nose in the crook of his neck, like a puppy. “Yes, and I just couldn’t recognize it. I-”

He placed a finger over her lips to silence her. “Shhhh. Months ago, I pulled my gun on Christopher and fired it.”

A gleam in her eyes, Kendall smiled. “Really?”

“Fuck!” he said in exasperation. “This shouldn’t be cause for amusement.”

“He pulled his gun on you while I was hospitalized.”

“But he didn’t fucking fire.”

“The asshole should know better than to pull a weapon. He’s asking for trouble. You have to defend yourself. Throwing a tantrum by shoving a gun against your head and not expecting retaliation is stupid on his part.”

“You don’t understand. If Christopher draws his nine, motherfuckers die.”

She lifted herself on her elbow and leaned over to kiss his lips. “Don’t. Okay? Don’t second-guess yourself. He should know better. You had every right to blow him away.”

Johnnie grinned at her. “Bloodthirsty wench.”

A small smile touched her lips. “No. Logical!”

“He’s having a dinner for Meggie tomorrow night and he invited us. Do you want to go?”

“You mean I have a choice?”

Johnnie glared at her and she laughed.

“Will you let go of the Meggie and Outlaw bullshit?”