Page 116 of Misrule
Knox’s mouth fell open and he released a pathetic squeak. “What good would that do? Besides, I didn’t say those exact words.”
“You said something to that effect, motherfucker. You also said she showed her ignorance by driving the purple Navigator that was a present from another motherfucker.”
Mortician really felt as if he was protecting Roxanne because he didn’t trust Knox’s intentions. If it wasn’t so goddamn interfering, it might be a little endearing that a big, bad motorcycle man protected his wife’s mother so fiercely. “I didn’t mean what I said, Mortician! How many fucking times do I have to repeat myself so you’ll understand the meaning of my words? You people pissed me the fuck off. How did you expect me to respond?”
“By acting like you had a little fucking respect for your head being in one piece. ‘Cause, you know, I almost blew it the fuck off.”
“I didn’t mean—”
Mortician raised his hand and indicated silence. “You meanteveryword, Knox. Know how I know?Youthe motherfucker that said your parents wouldn’t be happy if you married Roxy. Look how your momma treating her? And we all know how much you hate her purple car. The fact that Outlaw gave it to her make it that much more unbearable. So, yeah, Knox, you meant all of what you said.”
Knox lifted his hands in supplication. “I swear…I swear,” he started in desperation, “I didn’t. I love her so much. I can’t wait to marry her. There’s no way I can tell her what I said.”
“You know that shit won’t go over well with her.”
“And so do you. You want to sabotage our relationship.”
“No. I want you to be fair and honest with her. I want her to know you man enough to own up to your shittiness. I want you to apologize to her for even thinking that disrespectful bullshit.”
“There’s nothing for me to apologize to her for. You’re being ridiculous.” A thought popped into his head. “I’ll pay you. What do you want? A million dollars? Two? Three? I’ll go as high as five.”
“Just what the fuck you paying me for? To let you move back in with her or to shut the fuck up about your bitch-ass words?”
“I don’t know.” Knox thrust a hand through his hair. “Either. Both.”
“First off? You don’t know shit about me. I don’t need your fucking money. Second, even if I did, no money in the world enough for me to turn away from protecting Roxanne. I value her well-being over some bitch-ass blood money.”
“A little gung-ho, aren’t you?” Knox sneered, losing his patience. “What man in your position wouldn’t wantfive million dollars? Whether it’s for silence or cooperation, the point is moot. It’s stillfive million dollars.”
“Can’t miss your money if I never had it. But, in case you don’t realize it, I don’t need your goddamn money. I got my own.”
At that statement, Knox laughed. “A pittance compared to what I’m offering, I’m sure.”
Mortician threw him a nasty grin. “As much as I want to break every bone in your face, the way you itching for me to do, I’m not. Go back to the club, Knox. I don’t trust you anymore than you trust me. Therefore, you and her still being chaperoned.” He backed into his house. “See you at the club.”
Before Knox had a chance to respond, Mortician slammed the door in his face.
Knox slammed his hand against the door. “You’re an asshole!” he yelled.
If Mortician heard, he gave no indication because Knox received no answer.
Kicking the door one last time, Knox growled, turned on his heel, and stormed back toward the club. For now, he was thwarted, but he was determined to find a way back into Roxanne’s arms before the wedding.
Before, this chaperoning had been an annoying nuisance. Now, it was a matter of pride and principle.
“Psst.”
The loud sound stopped Knox in his tracks, just as Roxy hoped. It was still dark outside, but the lights interspersed amongst the trees assisted her in tracking his progress.
She glanced over her shoulder, to make sure she was still alone. Mortician had all kinds of fucking tricks up his sleeve.
Knox stood within a beam of artificial light. It glinted off his blond hair and revealed his frustration in the tight lines on his handsome face. He hadn’t spotted her yet, so he turned and started to storm away again.
“Knox,” she called. “Wait! It’s me.”
“Roxanne?” he whispered in disbelief, swallowed up by the darkness.
“Let’s get off the pathway,” she suggested, rubbing her arms at the chill in the air. She wore a snuggly fleece bed jacket that offered some warmth, but her silk pajamas weren’t much of a barrier, especially her legs.
