Page 84 of Rebellious

Yet, K-P was right. She’d be killed before he was cold. What happened in the future didn’t solve his immediate problem and what those fuckheads had planned for her.

The closing door drew Joe to the chair K-P had sat in. He really wished his little brother would patch out. K-P was too much of a good motherfucker and had never been as tainted as the rest of them. He’d always kept his distance from Logan, never liking the old fuckhead. As long as Joe remained, though, K-P wouldn’t budge.

Leaning back in his squeaky desk chair, he dropped his gaze to the will he’d left with Marion before considering all the wills underneath. At least twenty, written over his nearly three decades in the club, dealing with Logan, Sharper, Cee Cee, and Rack. The story of his life, snapshots of desperation, annoyance, or satisfaction, wheedled down to paragraphs in a legal document. Nine or ten listed Meggie as the owner; two had Roxanne’s name. He was sure Hopper had one of those originals. Four wills had Roxanne, Meggie, and Bailey; three had Christopher; one had Christopher and Val; one listed all Big Joe’s grandsons—those already here and those yet born—as the owners. If that meant only Randolph, then so be it. He refused to leave Joey fuck-all. Johnnie could fuck himself, and the Banks brothers had their own money.

He could always confuse motherfuckers and leave shit in limbo. Leave wills here and there and everywhere. Or, fuck, just not leave any will, and let the club assume it owned everything.

Marion knew the truth, but he wouldn’t tell. Joe had saved his fucking life twice. He was a motherfucker, not fit to wear the collar, but he wouldn’t betray Joe because of his blood debt.

He could always add detailed instructions. If motherfuckers got out of hand, get Meggie to safety, release the will, and oversee the negotiations once she was dealt with. Maybe he’d have Marion send Christopher to wherever she was until the danger passed.

She could do worse. For instance, she could end up with Johnnie, who Joe had seriously considered as a contender for her hand at one time. But he was a fuckhead, jealous of Christopher, although he tried to hide it behind jokes and smiles.

In his instructions, he’d advise the priest to find an attorney as soon as he heard news of her death. How he discovered it was up to him. Then, the attorney could negotiate the terms of the deal that would see all holdings in club hands and Meggie with a payout that wouldn’t endanger her.

If she and Christopher didn’t hit it off, then she’d have to stay far away from Washington and make a life for herself somewhere else.

Whatever Joe decided would depend on his mood. One thing was certain, he’d have the last fucking laugh.

Dinah barred him from Meggie? Bitch.

Dinah Fink Nicholls was the owner of it all. And when she was executed for it, it would be Joe’s ultimate revenge. A life for the years he’d missed with his baby girl. A fuck you from a motherfucker to a cunt. The truth hurt. Or in this case, killed.

Monday, April 15th

Thanks to the sedative and painkiller, Rebel slept peacefully through the night, although Jo awakened Meggie twice for a bottle feed and diaper change. Seeing her baby thriving comforted Meggie and she couldn’t wait until a week from today, when Jo was finally discharged.

By the time Rebel awakened at 7AM, Jo was fed and changed. As much as Meggie wanted to spend the day caring for the infant, Rebel would come home that afternoon. Meggie needed to get home to change Rebel’s bed and see to it that the suite was spotless.

Zephyr and Pike escorted Meggie home. When she turned onto club grounds, it disappointed her to see Christopher’s bike already parked in his designated spot. She was hoping he hadn’t left the house yet, so she’d find refuge in his arms.

It had been a long weekend, one that she still hadn’t quite recovered from, even though Rebel would be fine. Medicine had taken care of the mild internal bleeding, but she’d need a lot of rest.

Arriving home, the silence of the house surprised her. The boys hadn’t gone to school. They wanted to be there to greet their sister with everyone else.

As she headed to the kitchen, she dug in her purse and fished out her cellphone to text CJ. She halted just inside the kitchen door.

Where are you, son?

He didn’t waste time responding.

CJ: Hey, Mom. We’re at Aunt Bunny’s for breakfast. She was running late and invited us over. Is everything okay?

Meggie: Fine, son. I love you.

CJ: How are Rebel and Jo?

Meggie: They’re both good.

CJ:

Smiling, Meggie locked her screen, set her phone and purse on the counter, then poured herself a glass of juice. She wanted to wash the grime of the hospital off and change into clothes she wore to clean.

Before she remembered her and Christopher’s bedroom was no longer on the third floor, she was halfway up the back staircase. She needed familiarity right now, so she stayed her course. When she walked into the suite, she couldn’t help the sadness overtaking her. She and Christopher had shared very special times in there. Though the décor and layout changed several times in the past, this had been her refuge for fifteen years. Amid more changes than she cared to remember, the bedroom was the one constant.

For now, it was still hers, but soon it would be gone forever as part of Christopher’s remodeling. Meggie walked to the sofa and sat, setting her purse next to her. The new room wasn’t big enough for the small dining set or the sofa and coffee table.

Meggie allowed herself a moment to mourn, then boxed all the memories away in a special place in her heart and headed to her beautiful bathroom with the big Jacuzzi tub and the nearby sofa, there for Christopher to enjoy the show as he saw fit or make love to her after she finished her bath. The fireplace at the foot of the tub had kept her warm and cozied up the huge room.