Chapter Five

Lucas “Mortician” Banks shoved his empty plate aside, leaned back to allow his sister-in-law to refill his coffee cup, then smiled at her. She looked sadder than he’d ever remembered seeing her, except maybe when her death-wishy former man, Trader, beat her until she miscarried.

Mortician glanced at his brother, Digger, almost certain Bunny’s sadness was because of that fool. Not that Digger laid hands on Bunny or any woman. But because he was an immature fuckhead that needed fucking slapped sometimes.

“Do you want me to brew more?” she asked, nodding to the nearly empty pot.

“Nah. If I want more, I’ll grab some at the club.” He’d been more than willing to get his own second cup before she’d jumped up and gotten the pot herself the moment he took his last sip. Likewise, with cooking his own breakfast, especially when Digger told him to relax because Bunny “had it”.

She returned the pot to its place on the coffeemaker, then looked at Mort and smiled tightly. “Anything else, babe?”

Seated at the small table in the dining room that abutted the kitchen, Digger stiffened.

Lifting her chin, she narrowed her eyes and folded her arms. “How about I whip up a cherry cobbler for you, Mort?”

Digger scowled. “You fed me cereal,” he accused. “Not only did you fix Mort a fucking feast, you offering him some of your delicious pie when you haven’t let me have a goddamn taste for days.”

A blush swept into her face, and she gasped. Mortician waited for the double meaning to dawn on Digger. It didn’t happen.

“You might want to fucking repeat that in your goddamn head, son.”

“What…?” Digger’s eyes widened and his scowl deepened. “You know I’m not telling you to give Mort no pussy so he can watch his cum drip out.”

Mortician rolled his eyes. Predictably, Bunny threw his jackass of a brother a violent look, spun on her heels and stormed away.

Digger slid his chair back and jumped to his feet. “We not finished! Get back here!”

“Fuck off!” Bunny’s voice carried through the open door.

Growling, Digger started to walk away.

“Sit the fuck down, fool,” Mort ordered, deeming his coffee cool enough to taste. “Go after her now and you’re just going to fuck up shit more.”

“Fuck Meggie, man.” Digger stomped back to his seat.

Outlaw’s cigarette burn on Digger’s temple had finally healed. Luckily, it wasn’t as bad as it first looked. Yet, it didn’t seem as if his brother had learned a fucking thing from the incident. He was still beefing with Meggie.

Mortician swallowed more coffee, then sat the cup aside.

“How you blaming Meggie girl for the argument when she not even fucking here?”

“’Cause Meggie gave Bunny the day off.”

Mort frowned. “Bunny work with her. Meggie can tell your woman to stay home if she want to.”

“Bunny work for Meggie. Suddenly, that cunt decided Bunny should spend the day here. I planned to send the boys there, so I could get a little more shut eye. Bitch always fucking with my plans.”

“Stop calling Prez woman out her goddamn name, son. Otherwise, I’ll fuck you up.”

“I’m your kin. How you taking up for her over me?”

“’Cause you being a stupid assfuck. You resent the woman for nothing.”

“Fuck, I almost wish Prez had fucked Torie. Or at least licked her pussy and got a dick suck from her. Knock Meggie back down to fucking earth.”

“And break her fucking heart,” Mort snapped.

“I think Prez was into Torie. I saw the fucking clips. The way he fucking watched her.”

“I saw the goddamn clips, too. I also saw the full footage. Prez innocent. He probably admired her as a beautiful woman, but that’s it. When he looked at her, he only saw his baby girl nurse. The only chick he into is Meggie.”

“Beautiful? Who you looking at? Torie drop dead gorgeous, in a elite league. Few bitches can touch her.”

“I’m not taking that away from her,” Mort said with irritation.

Torie was gorgeous, but she couldn’t hold a candle to Bailey, who he considered one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met with her dark hair, green eyes flecked with brown, and creamy skin. His wife was in the same elite league as Torie, but then, so was Meggie, Red, Chester, and Bunny. They were gorgeous women, too.

Mort refused to believe Prez would allow Torie to turn his head and jeopardize his marriage, especially while his wife was in the hospital after fighting for her life.

“Peep this, Mort. Prez put this bitch on the back of his fucking bike. They might have cameras and footage for many of his interactions with Torie. But at her house? Wasn’t none. If he didn’t lick her pussy, I bet he got a cock suck from her. Outlaw treat Torie different. I don’t give a fuck what you say. Meggie see it, too.” He folded his arms. “I’m just waiting for the actual story to come out and knock that bitch off her high horses.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Mortician bit out. An image of Bunny rose in his mind’s eye and he shook his head. “You told that shit to your woman, didn’t you, fuckhead?”

Unrepentant, Digger nodded. “If I resent Bunny, I’ll lose her.” He shrugged. “It’s just easier to resent Meggie.”

“You a death wishy motherfucker,” Mort growled. “Keep fucking with Meggie and Prez will fucking kill you.”

“Torie messed with his bitch and she still strutting the fucking earth.”

Why did he even try with his brother?

He dropped that argument and tried a different way to reason with him. “Meggie one of Bunny best friends. You fighting a losing battle, especially since Meggie innocent.”

“Don’t steal my fucking words and use them against me. That’s plagiarism.”

Slamming his empty mug on the table, Mort glared at Digger.

“Besides, Bailey my niece momma. No motherfucker in the world winning against a Mama Bear. That’s why I told you stop competing with Harley for Bailey to be fair. Never going to happen. But Bunny my bitch. Meggie don’t have a cock. I lay down good pipe for Bunny. That should get me some loyalty.”

Sighing, Mort let Digger vent. He was wasting his goddamn breath, anyway.

“Second, Meggie responsible for everything. Stealing Prez. Stealing you. The Biker Baby Boom. Turning the club into a social meet and greet. Turning Johnnie from a cool motherfucker to one of the bitterest fuckheads to ever live. It’s all her fucking fault.”

Instead of knocking the fuck out of his brother, Mort reflected on Digger’s words and his behavior over the past months. Unless there was something other than Bunny wanting another baby, Digger’s resentment of Meggie was also fucking up his marriage. Obviously, he was panicking, running scared, and lashing out. Even in his mid-forties, he didn’t possess conflict resolution skills.

Mortician had always been the one to step in and solve his brother’s problems. But he wasn’t a fucking magician or a brain surgeon. He couldn’t magically remove Digger’s hostility or perform surgery to reset the fool’s motherfucking thoughts.

“Bunny still want another baby?”

“Don’t Bailey?”

“Touché.”

“Toochie? What the fuck that mean?”

Mort scrubbed a hand over his face. “I didn’t pronounce it like that…” He sighed again. “Never mind.”

“It should be pronounced that way. That’s what it looks like on paper.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Stop using fancy words while we talking about babies,” Digger complained. “You don’t want one of those expensive little motherfuckers ‘cause of Harley. I don’t want one ‘cause of space and expense.”

Alarm raced through Mort. “You spent all your fucking savings?”

“No! Bunny got me on a fucking allowance. And, even if I didn’t get no more dividends from our money, fucking Meggie know when to hold or fold. Of all the fucking bitches to know about trading, it had to be her.”

“I’m fucking ignoring that, motherfucker. Are you sure you don’t want another fucking baby because you might have to jump into the 21st Century and help with it?”

“How you censure me when I take cues from you and Outlaw?”

“You out your goddamn mind, son. I share as many responsibilities for my children as Bailey. I got a fucking weekly Honey-do list. Prez the same.”

“No. He not. You blind if you think otherwise. I went over there multiple times a week at one time ‘cause my woman was there, so it was just easier for us as a family. While Bunny and Meggie did all the kitchen and kid shit, me, Outlaw, Diesel, and sometimes CJ, shot the shit.”

“After you left, Prez helped get his children ready for bed. He had one-on-ones with his kids. He made sure all the doors were secured. He took out the trash, even if CJ and Diesel helped. Your fucking problem is you spoiled. Always has been.”

“Spoiled? I’m not a fucking bitch.”

“Then stop acting like one.”

Hurt crossed Digger’s face. Mort ignored it and lifted a brow.

“Why you here?” Digger asked crossly, an hour too late.

Unperturbed, Mort shrugged. When he’d awakened this morning, he’d reached for Bailey. Although she hadn’t denied him, she’d been uninspired.

He winced at the uncharitable thought. Maybe distracted was better. His woman was so passionate and enjoyed sex immensely at one time. After they’d made up the night Prez burned Digger and Harley lost her mind and hit CJ, Mort thought his marriage was back on track. He wasn’t so sure after this morning.

Bailey wanted another baby. She was ten years younger than him, so he should’ve guessed she might get baby fever again at some point. Chester—Zoann—seemed to be the only old lady in their close-knit group happy with her and Val’s two little motherfuckers.

However, Mort feared Bailey giving birth to another girl. Before Harley’s recent spiral, it was because he couldn’t imagine how his baby girl would feel with the impending arrival of a little sister.

Now? Undoubtedly, the news would send his house into chaos, largely because of Harley. Unless Bailey delivered a boy.

Fuck, that would be a different issue. Bailey would be unhappy.

He faced a no-win situation.

He tried to monitor Bailey’s time of month, so he could brace himself and then formulate a plan to soothe Harley and whatever fears she had. Once or twice, he’d been ninety-nine percent positive Bailey was pregnant and waited for her announcement. Except it never came.

The pendulum of emotions distracted him from the club as much as the club distracted him from his family. He lived with relief and disappointment whenever his suspicions didn’t pan out. Then, runs, distribution, fucking ups, and general club business intruded.

So, this morning, after they made love, Bailey said she needed to take a quick shower because she and Harley had girl talk in her room. Once Mort showered and found Bailey and Harley headed to the hallway bathroom, he’d gone to the kitchen, ready to cook breakfast for his family. Lou and Kaleb were already in the den, with two empty cereal bowls between them, and watching YouTube videos on drums and guitar techniques.

He’d taken the boys to their first-floor music room with soundproof walls for a jam session. By the time they finished, and Mort decided to head to the club to see if Prez planned on stopping in, Bailey and Harley were in the bathroom doing “girl stuff.”

Make-up and hair, he supposed. He didn’t begrudge their mother-daughter time, but Bailey couldn’t seem to balance her loyalty to Harley and her loyalty to him. He’d rounded up Lou and Kaleb to head to the club.

Although Prez was his best friend, Mort didn’t want to intrude on him today. He needed time with his wife and family. He needed time with Meggie. She was taking steps to get him back on track, but he still wasn’t the Prez that Mort knew. The Prez that was needed.

As Mort walked with his sons toward the club, he’d come upon the English cottage. It was the type of place Bunny wanted to live in, so Digger had gone all out for her right down to the false thatched roof, sash windows, and bargeboard. When they enlarged it and added a second floor, they constructed it with a combination of stone and wood, unlike the original stone and brick structure. They also enlarged their chimney and added lattice-style windows. But Bunny’s garden and her climbing vines added authenticity.

His brother’s place lured him, and he’d detoured. The house was under three thousand square feet, but Mort loved the coziness. The moment he walked in, he always felt welcome.

Bunny had created a warm, loving home for his brother and his nephews, and the fuckhead just didn’t fucking appreciate it. Digger would disagree. He was so fucking argumentative. Yet, the evidence was there. Not only didn’t he want to be a helpmeet, but he was intent on insulting her best friend and getting himself killed.

Lou and Mark JB were nearly the same age. So were Ephraim and Kaleb. The three younger boys, Steele—eight, Link—seven, and Cove—four, just kind of hung out together.

He’d expected the boys to have cousin time while Mort and Digger enjoyed brother time. All he fucking found was more fucking problems. His were simply because he loved his brother and hated to have the spoiled motherfucker so miserable by his own goddamn hand.

“As much time as I spend with that little cunt—my woman even closer to her than Bailey—Meggie still prefer you over me.”

Mort couldn’t have heard right. Digger was jealous that Meggie wasn’t close to him?

Could the fuckhead be that juvenile?

Who was he kidding? Yes. Yes! Digger was that childish.

His problem with Meggie wasn’t Bunny not being around or wanting a baby, or Digger having to act like a husband and a father.

“Even Little Bro looks up to you more than me.”

“How CJ feel about me don’t have nothing to do with Meggie. Until recently, CJ and Harley were always in each other’s company.”

“The only other dude CJ trust more than you is his daddy. C’mon, Mort, at least give me this. Little Bro has gone with me and Bunny to eat if Harley is with us. He has spent time with my boys. Me. My woman. Yet, I’m just a phone number in his list. He don’t have me on speed dial. And my wife been taking care of his little ass since he was a fucking baby.”

“You don’t take a goddamn thing seriously. How you expect another motherfucker to look at you and decide he can trust your advice?”

“I take a lot serious. We not talking about that, anyway.”

“I’m not going around and around with you.”

“I want Bunny and Bailey to become real sisters-in-law. But Bailey—”

“Keep my wife name out your motherfucking mouth if you like your vocal cords in your goddamn body.”

Digger studied the abstract wall mural that was a cornerstone of the dining room. The farmhouse dining table seated twelve and sat atop a cream and beige Damask rug. The wagon wheel chandelier was similar to the one Meggie had in her entrance hall. Sash windows lined the back and side walls. Across the room, close to the door and light switch, stood a server where Bunny kept fresh bouquets of flowers.

Leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table, Mort started to tell Digger to open his fucking eyes before it was too late.

Bunny’s yell interrupted his intentions.

“Mort!” she screamed. “Come quick! It’s Harley!”

His mind blanked for a moment before all types of scenarios ran through his head. He jumped to his feet, vaguely aware of Digger doing the same, and ran to the living room.

Grant was just laying Harley on the sofa. She was bleeding from her nose and mouth, and her jaw and eye were bruised and swollen.

“She’s conscious,” Grant grumbled, stepping back.

She didn’t look fucking conscious to Mortician.

The boys were staring at Harley, especially Mark JB, Lou and Kaleb. Mort felt sick at the fear in their eyes.

“I’ll get ice.” Bunny hurried out the room.

Mort rushed to Harley, swept her into his arms, and then sat on the sofa, cradling her to him. “What happened, Grant?”

Harley moaned.

He tightened his hold on his baby girl. “Who I got to fuck up?”

Grant shifted and averted his gaze.

Releasing a heartbreaking sob, Harley opened her eyes, and struggled to a sitting position. Mort didn’t want her to hurt herself further, so he guided her to the spot next to him, settled his arm around her shoulder and hugged her close.

He glared at Grant. “Who did this? Who, goddamn it? Who fought my baby girl and knocked her out?” He nodded to her face. “Made her bleed.”

Wincing, Grant cleared his throat. “It isn’t what you think.”

“It’s exactly what the fuck I think,” he roared. “Harley bleeding, motherfucker.”

Staggering to her feet, Harley stumbled away just as Bunny returned with the filled ice bag.

“Here, baby,” she said. “This will help with the swelling.”

Harley snatched the pack. If that didn’t shock the fuck out of Mort, her rounding on Grant did. “Tell him, asshole. Tell him how that bitch put her hands on me.”

“You’re a disrespectful fucking brat,” Grant snarled, raising Mortician’s hackles.

He stormed to his feet and barreled to his stepbrother-in-law. “You don’t have the fucking right to talk to my baby like that.”

“The fuck I don’t. She can’t call her own grandmother a bitch, Mortician,” Grant said, not backing down and surprising Mort yet again.

No. Even worse. He felt as if he’d been sucker-punched. Blinking, he stared at Grant, aware of the doorbell ringing and the whir of the ceiling fan. Aware of a broom leaning against the forest green wall with all the photos in white frames of varying sizes.

Aware of burning anger sweeping through him.

“Roxanne punched you, Harley?” he asked, torn between disbelief and fury.

“Ask that heifer why I knocked her the fuck out.”

Roxanne’s steely voice rose from directly behind him.

Turning, Mort ignored Knox standing next to her, glaring at him in warning. Grant rushed to Roxanne’s side. Not that Mort cared. He’d break both those motherfuckers in half.

He understood how infuriating and soul-crushing Harley could be. Until recently, he’d been her favorite target. Yet, he’d never once put his hands on her.

“I don’t give a good fuck why you think she deserved to be punched.” He pointed a finger at his mother-in-law, hurt and disappointed. “You crossed a fucking line.”

“Boy, put that fucking finger down before I break it,” Roxanne ordered.

“Fuck off, Roxanne. Harley a child. You have a bad fucking habit of raising your goddamn hand. Just a few weeks ago, you punched my fucking wife. Now, you laid hands on my daughter?”

“In a fucking minute, I’m going to lay my fucking hands on you.”

“You crossed a line,” he yelled, so furious he could barely think straight. “Harley my child and I love her. I’d go to fucking war for her. How dare you fucking hit my daughter?”

“Boy, stand the fuck down and listen to me. I didn’t want to hit that bitch.”

“Enough, Roxanne! Stop calling Harley out her fucking name.”

“Back away from my wife, Mortician,” Knox said, inserting himself in front of Roxanne. “You’re not dealing with her the way you deal with whoever crosses the club. Back the fuck away and calm the fuck down.”

“’Scuse me,” Digger called. “Get the fuck out my house if you two about to fight.”

Mortician ignored Digger. “You know what the fuck your problem is, Roxanne? You think you a bad bitch, but you a coward.”

“Think what the fuck you want to, motherfucker,” she replied, though Knox remained in front of her. “You don’t know what the fuck I’ve been through, so fuck you.”

“Whatever it is, is on you,” Mort said, still looking at his precious daughter’s bruised and bloodied face. “K-P was a good motherfucker. Laid back. Cool. You probably hit him one too fucking many times.”

Roxanne put her hand on Knox’s shoulder and whispered to him. He stepped aside, allowing Mortician to be face-to-face with her again.

“Fuck you, Mortician. I don’t owe you or no motherfucker explanations, but you know who turned me the way I am?”

“Your momma, probably.”

Glaring at him, she fisted her hands on her hips. “It was Logan Donovan and your miserable fuckhead daddy, so shut the fuck up.”

Sharper? Roxanne had known Sharper?

But—

“That bitch you made with my Bailey just like that motherfucker. A violent snake-in-the-grass with the veneer of a fucking angel.”

“I hate you!” Harley screamed, sobbing wildly.

Mort gave Roxanne a putrid look. “Whatever you think Harley did doesn’t justify your words or your fucking actions.”

The more Mort spoke, the more fury darkened Roxanne’s face. It shouldn’t have surprised him when his mama-in-law stormed to the broom, warned everyone to stay out of her way before snatching it and swinging. She wasn’t wielding the handle, so she probably didn’t want to injure Mort too severely.

She got some good licks in, though not one motherfucker tried to stop her. Not Digger, Bunny, and their sons, or Grant and Knox, and not Harley, although she was probably too terrified.

Mort didn’t want to yank the broom from Roxanne—if he could ever grab hold of it with her persistent swings—and cause her to stumble and possibly fall, so he took his ass beating, hoping she wore herself out.

Until Harley did decide to step in. She shoved Roxanne so hard that she stumbled and fell flat on her back.

Looming over her grandmother, Harley held the broom. “Now, bitch,” she spat. “Deal with that.”

The words stunned everyone, but most especially Mort, into speechlessness. He’d never heard such venom in Harley’s voice, even when she’d hated him.

However, Roxanne seemed invigorated. She popped to her feet, head locked Harley and started dragging her out of the room.

“Leave me alone!” Harley screamed. “Daddy, help me! Get this crazy woman away from me!”

“Crazy? Me?” Tears and anger thickened Roxanne’s voice. She twisted Harley’s braids and jerked her head back, no longer imprisoning her but still a hair’s breadth from ripping her head off. “You fought your mama! Spat in her fucking face! Then you told her to fuck her and her mama.”

Sure he’d misheard, Mort staggered back.

“I hate you and I hate her! She’s a traitor!”

“She almost ruined her fucking marriage for your motherfucking ass, bitch,” Roxanne said, still able to have coherent thoughts and thread words together.

Mort was grateful. He couldn’t talk or think or move. He couldn’t order his sons to leave. Or respond to Digger’s back pat. He barely registered Bunny’s wide eyes and open mouth or the dislike on Grant’s face and grimness on Knox’s.

“If Bailey’s a traitor, what the fuck are you, Harley?” Roxanne spat.

“The victim!” she cried. “Of her. You. CJ—”

Roxanne shoved Harley away. “Don’t bring that boy into this, heifer.”

“I hate you.”

“I don’t give a fuck. I never want to talk to your bitchy ass again. You’ve betrayed everyone.”

“I have not,” Harley yelled, so enraged she didn’t care that spit flew from her mouth. “Your pathetic daughter betrayed everyone. Especially me. She wants another daughter because I’m worthless. She didn’t even have the fucking decency to tell Daddy about her stupid miscarriages, all hurt because he didn’t notice. Fuck that bitch.”

“Bailey miscarried?” Roxanne asked in a tone that reflected the sudden horror and devastation Mort felt.

“Oops!” Harley’s hands flew to her mouth, then she smirked. “I wasn’t supposed to say that. It just slipped out. So sorry.”

Roxanne studied Harley, although Mort was staring at his daughter as if she were a stranger. She was a stranger. The little girl who’d once adored him and smiled for everyone was gone. Harley had turned mean, spiteful, and resentful. She wasn’t his baby girl anymore or Bailey’s sweet girl. And discovering Bailey’s miscarriages was a blow to Mort’s heart.

“How Bailey told you about the baby she lost?” Roxanne asked, walking to Mort. She hugged him. “Oh, sugar,” she said, as tender now as she’d been brutal a few moments ago. She guided Mort to the sofa and urged him to sit, then faced Harley again. “How, Harley?”

“It was babies,” Harley said coldly. “Two or three. And I was making her understand that I’m not a little girl anymore.” She smiled as if she’d won a prize. “She shared with me. Woman to woman.”

“Woman to woman, huh?” Roxanne echoed. “Not a motherfucker around impressed that you’ve turned into such a sneaky, manipulative bitch. Bailey and me have problems but that’s my daughter. You’ve revealed something painful in her life that she wasn’t ready to have known.”

Folding her arms, Harley sniffed. “She was betraying my dear father.”

Mort’s eyes widened.

“Girl, fuck you. Let me add stupid bitch to your list of fucking crimes.”

“Fuck you right back, old woman.”

“Fuck, enough!” Mort commanded. “Show some fucking respect to your grandmama, Harley.”

“I don’t respect anyone who doesn’t respect me, Daddy.”

“Harley, sit your ass down,” Roxanne said.

“No.”

Roxanne took a step toward Harley, who dodged her and rushed to the sofa, plopping next to Mort.

But he couldn’t touch her or comfort her or offer her anything. Not reprimands, which she sorely needed, or coddling, which she’d gotten too much. In that moment, he didn’t think he’d ever look at her the same.

“I finally understand why Bailey didn’t knock you the fuck out when you started mistreating your daddy.”

Harley rolled her eyes at Roxanne’s words. “This should be interesting.”

“Her daddy and her husband belong to the club. Your brothers want to follow in their footsteps. K-P was a good man—” she sidled a glare at Mort— “but his club came first. I couldn’t stay for so many reasons,” she said, so very sad as she refocused on Harley.

“H-how did Sharper Banks…?” Bunny frowned. Sharper had tried to kill her and Digger.

“How’d I know that motherfucker?” Roxanne asked.

Bunny nodded.

“My momma watched him on TV every Sunday. She sent him ten dollars a week and tithed at our church five dollars a month.” Roxanne smiled. “Deramey Arceneaux, the minister at Great Redeemer, announced he’d received an invitation to attend Sharper’s 10th anniversary. I was one of the ones he chose to go.” She shifted uncomfortably. “I-I didn’t know, Mama didn’t know, they chose me for Sharper. Deramey sent him photos in advance.” Tears filled her eyes, and she glanced at the ceiling. “It was overwhelming. I had no choice but to go to Sharper’s estate. Cee Cee Caldwell gave me no fucking choice. I just wanted to go back to the hotel. When Arrow came demanding that I take a fucking drink, I grabbed a butter knife. That drew K-P over. At first, he was protecting Arrow. It was happening so fucking fast. Before I knew it, Kaleb was telling me to follow his lead and Sharper was there.” She lowered her lashes, blessed with beauty, the same genes she’d handed to Bailey and Harley. “Big Joe told me that if I was going to die, that I needed to stand in my truth. He told me not to cower.”

“Sharper was going to kill you?” Bunny squeaked.

“Yeah, sugar,” she said. “They knew I was a virgin. He intended to fuck me and let whoever else wanted me to have a go, and then he was going to kill me. He paid Deramey for my body and for my life. Kaleb and Big Joe saved me. A few days after I got home, Deramey called me to church. Rack was there.” She covered her eyes. “He was such a motherfucking asshole. Midway during the meeting, he pulled out a .357 and shot Deramey point blank. In front of me. Then he turned that fucking gun on me. I just knew I was dead, but he said Sharper sent his regards and then walked out.”

She was shaking. If Knox hadn’t rushed to her, Mort would have. He’d never realized how deeply involved she’d been with the club. She was right. He’d never asked her. He’d just assumed.

She accepted the handkerchief Knox pulled from his lapel, dried her cheeks, then went to Harley and sat.

“Sugar, I know you’re hurting. Growing up is so fucking hard, Harley. Bailey and Mortician give you and your brothers a good life. But your momma didn’t have the most stable childhood. Kaleb blazed in and out of town without rhyme or reason. She talked to him all the time, but he wasn’t physically there. Then, she moved here to be closer to him—”

Anger marched across her face. She was probably thinking the same as Mort. Bailey had also moved from New Orleans to escape an abusive boyfriend.

“Just as she’s getting to know her daddy face-to-face, spending time with him, adjusting to his lifestyle, Logan killed him. I can’t imagine how that affected her.” Roxanne put an arm around Harley. “You owe your mama an apology for betraying her confidence.”

“Not only for that,” Digger said with a snort.

Roxanne nodded, though she didn’t take her focus from Harley. “For a lot, but especially that. She wants to protect you because she loves you so much. We all love you, baby.”

Pushing Roxanne away, Harley got to her feet. “You’re rambling,” she spat.

No, Roxanne offered perspective. Her story calmed everyone and reminded them they all had stories about Sharper.

“Your grandmama making a lot of sense, baby girl.” Mort would try to reason with Harley one more time. “You and a little sister would belong to your mama. A part of her probably resent the club. The club’s the reason she lost her daddy and why she feel so overlooked.”

“Her father’s been dead for over fifteen years. If she hasn’t gotten over his death by now, she is a pitiful loser. Unlike me, who’s going through current pain and devastation because of CJ.”

Fed up, Mortician glared at her. If he didn’t leave, he’d say something he’d regret.

Grant shook his head and Knox stared at her. Roxanne just sighed.

“Give CJ time, Harley,” Bunny said kindly. “I think he misses—”

“No one asked you, Bunny. If he missed me, he’d return my calls, so shut up.”

“Harley, get the fuck out of my house,” Digger ordered. “You not coming in here and disrespecting your aunt, my wife, like that.”

“I don’t ever have to come over here!” Harley snarled. “I’m going home. Leave me alone! All of you.”

“Where Bailey, Harley?” Mort demanded. “You not setting foot in that fucking house until I talk to your momma.”

Twirling around, Harley gave him an incredulous look.

“It took almost an hour to calm everything down,” Grant said. “Roxy helped Bailey see to her cuts and bruises. Harley changed her clothes and straightened up her hair, but she didn’t want her injuries seen to.”

“You didn’t tell me all that when you texted me,” Lou said with disapproval. “You just asked if Dad was here.”

“Harley took my phone, dude,” Grant said. “She didn’t trust what I would say.”

“When I was leaving, Bailey was in the shower,” Roxanne said. “She’d planned on going to Meggie. Probably needed her advice. All that changed because of bullshit. She’s home.”

“There, your wife is safe,” Harley snarled to Mort. “I’m going home. Don’t disturb me.” She stormed out.

“Mort, me and you going to the club,” Digger announced.

“Fuck no. I need to talk to Bailey and see to—”

“Bailey fine,” Digger said with exasperation. “Meggie going to sprinkle her fucking fairy dust and fix everything. Everybody else need to cool off, so you and me going to the fucking club, and that’s a fucking brother order.”