Page 115 of Misrule
“You only want to control my movements, or do you truly want us to have a bigger family?”
They definitely didn’t need more children.Butshe probably wouldn’t like that answerandhe’d dowhateverto protect her. If that meant manipulating the situation, so be it.
Tipping her chin up, he brushed his lips over hers, ignoring the dried blood.
“You love lil babies, Megan. I ain’t ever shoulda took that away from you, baby.”
Her unfucked eye lit up, while the blackened motherfucker swelled a little more. “I thought long and hard about this, last night. When you brought up another pregnancy, you shocked me. Then, I realized how happy I was at the thought of carrying another baby by you. How many more do you want?”
What the fuck did she mean? One more wouldn’t be enough?
He cleared his throat. “How many more you want?”
“Three,” she said breathlessly.
What the motherfuck? “You wanteightfuckin’ kids?”
She nodded. “Then I’ll get back on birth control.”
He’d cross that bridge when he came to it. Right now, he had to get their sixth kid in her. Until then, Christopher wouldn’t rest easy. At least, though, they were on the right fucking road and on the same fucking page.
Now that he had Megan’s consent, it was of the ut-fucking-most importance to stay on track for Roxanne and Bailey’s fucking ceremony.
Well, fuck. Did that fucking mean he’d have to hold off on his plans for psycho cunt?
Ex-fuckin-scuse me. Beat-the-fuck-up psycho cunt.
No. Fuck no. Just fucking NO! The quicker he got rid of that bitch the better. Delaying shit would derail the plans; going forward with his plans would ensure smooth sailing right to the fucking altar and Wilcunt.
Megan hugged him, recapturing his attention. “I love you so much.”
He wrapped his arms around her and nosed her hair. “I love you, too, Megan. More than my own fuckin’ life.”
If she wanted three more babies, he’d just have to find a fucking way to make their house bigger. As long as his woman was happy and safe, he’d be fine.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Early the next morning, Knox banged on the front door of Mortician and Bailey’s house, purposely bypassing the bell. He wanted to break down the fucking door. The asshat had guards on the path that led to Roxy’s little house. Knox spent the entire night seething. At Mortician’s dictates. At the return of Roxanne’s indifference and his own disappointment when he’d realized there wasn’t an assignation planned. His combined emotions made sleep impossible, though Mortician’s orders riled him the most. Well, it would stoptoday!If Megan Caldwell finally grew a spine and stood up to Kendall, then Knox could surely do the same with Mortician, Outlaw, and whichever other imbecile gave him guff.
Throwing the door open, Mortician glared at Knox, not inviting him into the warmth of the house.
“It’s six o’clock in the fucking morning, Knox. What the fuck do you want?”
“I want my woman,” Knox stated with cool firmness. “And I intend to take her. You aren’t stopping me, so call your goons off.”
Mortician stepped outside, closing the door to just a small gap. In his bare feet, he only wore jeans, but he seemed unaffected by the cold.
“Make me, motherfucker,” he said, so close to Knox’s face that their noses almost touched.
Holding firm, Knox stiffened his shoulders. “This is ridiculous. You’re treating Roxanne as if she’s a little virgin from the 1950s. Well, she’s far from it, and you’re not keeping me away from her a moment longer.”
Mortician’s eyes flared in surprise and Knox puffed out his chest. Mortician was going to back off and give in to the inevitable.
“Okay, have it your way,” Mortician conceded. “On one condition.”
Knox rolled his eyes. Did Mortician really think to outsmart him again? For curiosity’s sake, Knox would go along with this silly game. “Name it and it’s yours, if it’ll bring this ridiculous moratorium to an end.”
“I’ll escort you to Roxanne,this fucking minute, and let you move back in, if you confess to the bullshit about proposing to her, fucking her, and then walking away because you really don’t want to marry her.”
