Page 173 of Misrule
She’d cross that bridge when she got to it. Today, she just wanted to get back to her house, curl up, and cry.
Folding his arms, Johnnie leaned against the wall in the bathroom area, waiting for Megan to walk out. When she stumbled out, red-faced and miserable looking, he straightened.
“Megan, baby, what’s the matter?”
She stilled, then scowled at him. “Go away,” she ordered.
“No.” He touched his still-bandaged nose. “I need to talk to you.”
Her gaze touched on all angles of his face, before she met his eyes. “The guys are going to tell Christopher.”
He smiled at her. “Worried for my safety?”
Clutching her stomach, Megan walked to the chair and sat. “What do we have to discuss, anyway?” she grouched, not answering his question. At least not verbally.
To Johnnie, her silence spoke volumes.
“I sent them away,” he admitted.
It surprised him that his announcement didn’t anger her. Everyone knew who was on her detail, so it had just been a matter of calling Krag, asking their location, and meeting them here at the department store.
He noted that his announcement didn’t anger her.
Unless Johnnie was mistaken, relief crossed Megan’s face and she sighed, her tension seeming to float away. He narrowed his eyes, opened his mouth to speak—
“They are still going to tell him,” she interrupted.
“I paid them two hundred fifty bucks a piece to get lost.” He shrugged. “They talk, they die. I’ll kill them for taking my money and not doing as I told them. Christopher will kill them because they left you.”
She nodded. “Right.”
“Are you done shopping?”
“Yes,” she said, glancing away, revealing her lie. But he wouldn’t press her.
Later, he’d talk to Krag and company. They were motherfuckers on a good day, so Johnnie wasn’t sure how they ended up as her guards. Yes, they’d seemed genuinely disappointed that they’d have to hand off such an easy job to Johnnie. Maybe, that was it. Meggie got along with everyone. Being Big Joe’s daughter and Outlaw’s wife went a long way in winning Krag, Talbot, Webster and Pete over.
They were good allies, but horrible enemies, and meaner than fucking snakes. If anyone fucked with Megan, the four older men would gleefully serve as executioners.
“Can we go somewhere to talk?” he asked, deciding to leave the subject of who guarded Megan to Christopher.
Before she spoke, he saw the denial to his request in her blue eyes.
“Please? I need…this is about Kendall. I know you don’t give a fuck about her anymore but…” He heaved in a breath and held up his hand, wiggling the finger where his wedding band still sat. “I’ve met someone else. She looks so much like you that I feel like a pervert for even thinking of taking her out, although we’ve talked several times on the telephone.”
Emily seemed so interesting. Almost too good to be true. She was educated, kind, funny, and witty.
“Can we go to the creek?” he pressed. “It’s private. I’ll stop and buy a few snacks and some wine.”
“I’m going to tell Christopher I’m with you and where we’re at.” She flushed and glanced away. “Go ahead and accuse me of not being able to keep anything from my husband.”
“I’ve said so many horrible things to you, Megan,” he told her, wishing she’d look at him again. No eyes on God’s green earth were as blue as hers. Yet he no longer felt the wistfulness he once had in her company. “He’s your husband and you have every right to share with him. I was just a jealous, petty jerk.”
Finally, she looked at him. “You’ve admitted as much before. It hasn’t changed anything. You still border between love and hate for meandKendall, and cross the line so many times,yourhead spins, so I can only imagine what it does to your wife.”
“I told Kendall we’re over.” The words came easy; the thought did not. Following through would be hell.
She studied him a moment, then stood. “Let’s meet at the creek in an hour.”
