Page 122 of Misrule
The fact that she was needed refocused her attention away from her and Knox’s breakup. And she arrived not a moment too soon. The flames had fascinated Outlaw so much that he hadn’t even recognized they were beginning to creep up the sides of the bathtub.
She’d taken care of that fire. Now, she had to take care of the emotional one. Duke might not want her, but these boys here needed mothering, too. Outlaw cried silent, bitter tears. Here, in this moment, she believed he did hate Meggie just as much as he loved her.
Roxy knew those conflicting emotions. At the moment, she was in the same predicament. She hated Knox for being a motherfucker. But she loved him, too. That’s why she wanted to save his life. She had broken up with him, but it was his words that brought her to that action.
Suddenly, Outlaw stiffened. Straightened. And stared down at her.
“What the fuck that motherfucker done?” he demanded as if a light had gone off in his head.
Stepping back, she turned away from him. “Knox didn’t do anything,” she lied, damning her voice for breaking. “I did it to him. I broke it off.” Tears threatened again. “I realized I don’t want to marry no motherfucker ever again.”
Silence greeted that firm-ish statement, then he barreled to her and narrowed his eyes. “You ain’t wantin’ to marry Knox fuckin’ Harrington?”
She forced herself to meet his eyes. “Nope.”
He contemplated her, and Roxy squirmed under the intensity of that cold, green gaze. “You a fuckin’ liar. I’m dialing Mort, tellin’ him to bring the fuckin’ chainsaw, so we can split Harrington down the fuckin’ middle and kill him.”
“What the fuck kind of statement is that? You cut Knox down the middle with a chainsaw, the motherfucker will be deader than fucking dead already. You won’t have anything to kill, Outlaw.”
“I’ll still have pieces to rip apart.”
She frowned at him, unable to believe that this chillingly murderous man now before her was the same heartbroken husband she’d walked in on. That was the beauty of Outlaw. Of Mort. Johnnie. Digger. Val. They lived in a world of violence that the love for their women tempered. They could be killers one moment, and family men the next. More important, they were as significant to her as their wives.
Why couldn’t Knox see that?
“Why you standin’ up there cryin’?” Outlaw demanded.
Angrily, she swiped at her tears. “We don’t belong together,” she said, not believing it while having no choice but to find a way to accept it. “Please, leave Knox alone. He doesn’t deserve your wrath or Mort’s.”
When the boy scratched his bare chest, she realized he stood only in pajama bottoms. He glanced at Meggie’s ruined dress, then back at Roxanne, and shifted his weight.
In that moment, he reminded her of CJ, and she couldn’t help but feel a little more tenderness toward him. Outlaw must’ve missed his mother something fierce, and Roxanne was more than happy to step into the role as a surrogate. She needed to pull herself together, though. He considered her as much of a family member as Mort did, and they’d protect her with berserk fierceness.
She drew in a deep breath. “Just let him be. Our breakup was my decision.”
“What about Bailey wantin’ to remarry Mort the same day you and Knox got hitched?”
Fuck. She’d forgotten about that. Goddamnit! “I’m going to talk to Bailey.” She forced lightness into her tone. “I need you to talk to Mortician. We can convince them to still go ahead with their vow renewal.”
The silence stretched, before Outlaw nodded. “Ima do that shit for your ass,afterI talk to fuckin’ Knox.”
She struggled to keep the panic out of her face. Even though she didn’t want to, she’d have to call Knox and tell him to let the story stand as she’d told it—that she’d broken off the engagement because she’d decided another marriage wasn’t for her.
Otherwise…she didn’t want to consider the otherwise.
“Get the fuck outta here, so I can take a fuckin’ piss, Roxanne.”
Hurrying away and closing the bathroom door behind her, Roxy gave in to the tears that had been threatening to fall for the past few minutes.
Chapter Thirty
Had he fucked up so bad that he’d lost Roxanne?
Did his dislike of the club president, theclub, trump his love for his woman?
Of course not!
He stared at the ring that sat on his desk. According to her, she was no longer his woman. She never wanted to see him again.
