Page 157 of Misrule
Meggie and CJ exchanged glances. Roxy knew Meggie wouldn’t repeat Knox’s words to Outlaw, but CJ? He loved to spill the beans.
“Baby?” Outlaw cocked his head to the side. “You ain’t a pissed lil’ motherfucker at my ass?”
Meggie gazed at Roxy, then smiled at Outlaw. “Christopher, Knox is part of Roxy’s family and Roxy isourfamily. As long as she wants him to stay alive, he stays alive.” She glared at the back of Knox’s head. “And, no, I’m not angry at you.” Without another word, she grabbed CJ’s hand and walked away.
Outlaw contemplated Meggie as she opened the gate and guided CJ onto their property.
“Our fuckin’ hands tied.” Outlaw stared at the vintage engagement ring Roxy still held in her hand. The one that seemed to have let all the evil into her relationship. Damn, she really wasn’t a superstitious bitch, but this was some complete bullshit. Until she put the motherfucker on her finger, she and Knox had had a wonderful relationship.
Themomenthe’d slid this fucking thing on, chaos had entered their lives. This. Was.BULLSHIT!
She almost wanted to throw it away…oh, hell no. Maybe, melt the motherfucker down? No, that was some black magic alchemy shit. She could sell it or return it to Knox’s father. By right, it really wasn’t hers anymore.
“Havin’ second fuckin’ thoughts?”
She gritted her teeth at Outlaw’s question and slid the ring back on. Bad luck or not, she had to wear the ring for the time being.
Once the situation settled, she’d give it back to Knox.
“Roxanne, whether Knox fuckin’ Harrington live or die now completely in your fuckin’ hands.”
Outlaw swept Knox with a cold look, then followed the path Meggie had taken, soon disappearing from view, unconcerned with the weight of responsibility his words held.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
His head pounding as if Thor’s hammer beat upon his skull, the scent of Roxanne’s perfume surrounding him, Knox flopped onto his back and groaned. His stomach churned like an angry sea. As a matter of fact, his entire body hurt, as if he’d been slammed against concrete countless times.
He groaned again. What happened to him? The last vague memory he had was leaving the office and stopping at a bar. But…
He lifted his head. The room spun, so he rectified his mistake and laid it back onto the pillow.
But as he’d started to say…he was in his room at the club.
How had he gotten there? Certainly, he hadn’t driven in his condition. Had he?
Had he called Roxanne and she’d acted as his sober driver? No matter how much she hated him, she didn’t want harm to befall him. She’d kept a friendly pretense for days on his behalf.
Roxanne.
When he’d tried to sit up, he hadn’t noticed her, but hesmelledher. Notes of flowers with an undertone of citrus.
“Roxanne,” he called, her presence surrounding him. He received no answer. His imagination played tricks on him again.
Sighing, he patted his pocket, unsurprised to find himself still fully clothed. Feeling nothing in the left pocket, he frowned. Before full panic set in, he repeated his pat-down on his right side. Nothing!
Jesus! Roxanne’s ring!
Attempting to sit up again, he gave into the god of hangovers and plopped backwards.
“Oh, Jesus. God,” he begged, turning onto his side. “Forgive me. I swear I’ll never drink again. Or…or…Just fucking kill me now.” What had he drank?
Before he could try to remember, his door slammed opened. The noise sent tears to his eyes and vomit twisting in his stomach, like a strange brew waiting to gush out.
“’Law!” CJ yelled. “Uncle Mudna Fucka awake.”
“Get out,” Knox tried to demand, afraid to raise his voice above a whisper. He didn’t even care that the kid had cussed him.
CJ banged on the door. Or kicked it. Or threw his miserable little body against it as a special form of torture.
