Page 2 of Misrule
Outlaw released smoke from the cigarette he’d just lit. “That’s what the fuck the motherfucker sayin’, Digger. They be-fuckin-long to each other but it just easier if they ever wanna split the fuck up.”
“And you okay with that, Prez?” Mortician asked, outraged.
“Ain’t sayin’ that shit, Mort,” Outlaw corrected. He studied Knox. “Listen the fuck up, assfuck. You either gonna marry Roxanne, and soon, or you gonna lose your fuckin’ cock.”
“Is that so?” Knox sneered, losing his patienceandhis temper. “Why should I go through with a fucking wedding to her, even if I propose? She’s driving apurplevehicle that screams ignorance. Not to mention it being a gift from another man.Outlaw!” Before any of them commented on that, Knox changed the subject and continued, lost in his self-righteous anger. “My parents might accept her as my live-in lady but as a wife? I don’t think so. And she insists on showing all of you allegiance. She’s definitely not wife material for me! But if it makes you happy, I’ll ask her to marry me, fuck her a month or two as my betrothed, then walk out. And I’ll do you all a favor. I’ll never tell her you fucking forced me into a corner and ruined our relationship…”
Even before Mortician pressed his .380 in the center of Knox’s forehead, his mouth caught up to his brain and his stomach turned. He hadn’t meant most of what he said. But these men frustrated him so much with their bullying tactics. Worse, there was no indicationfrom Roxanne herselfthat she hoped to marry him.
“Mort, if you pull the fucking trigger, Roxanne might have a problem with you.” Johnnie spoke as if he talked of which type of Scotch he preferred.
Hearing patience the situation didn’t call for, Knox feared Morticianwouldshoot. A frisson of sympathy for the men Mortician visited as the club’s enforcer went through Knox.
“You marrying her or you leaving her, dead or alive,” Mortician snarled, twisting the barrel into Knox’s skin before yanking the gun away and shoving it back into his cut. “You got until Valentine Day to decide.”
Straightening his jacket lapels and brushing off the sleeves, Knox reseated himself. It would be a cold day in hell before any of these ignoramuses outsmarted him. He’d propose to Roxanne, but if theyeverended up at the altar it would be onhisterms and no one else’s.
Period.
Slipping into bed, later that night, Roxy slid closer to Knox, who welcomed her with open arms. The red mark on his forehead grabbed her attention again and she caressed it.
“What happened, sugar?”
Knox readjusted and settled her in the crook of his arms. “Nothing much,” he answered, noncommittal. “Just goofing off with the guys.”
For a time, all the boys had accepted Knox into their fold, allowing her to breathe a sigh of relief. Her concern for her man’s safety had lessened. Knox had had a rough adjustment. Most of the men of the motorcycle club and Knox came from two different worlds, but they’d adapted and accepted each other for her. That bliss lasted a few months before some hostility on both sides returned.
Knox kissed the top of her head. “What are your thoughts on marriage, Roxanne?”
Roxy stilled. She’d say she was a progressive, twenty-first century woman, who didn’t need marriage to have a committed relationship. Yet, she was a romantic, if nothing else, and she loved Knox so much.
“What do you mean?” she asked, wanting clarity before she answered. She didn’t want to jump to conclusions about where this might lead. “My general thoughts on marriage or specifics, particularly between us?”
He chuckled, and she joined him in laughter.
“Subtle, right?” she said.
He scooted down and turned on his side, meeting her eyes. “Very.”
“Knox, baby, what do you want me to say?” She traced the outline of his lips. He was so handsome and upstanding. “I mean I get why somebody like you wouldn’t want to marry an ignorant—” She paused and her voice trailed off, before she swallowed and continued. “Ghetto slut like me.”
Those words, in her son’s voice, spoken a couple of months ago, still echoed in her head. She hadn’t even called Duke. She’d just happened to walk in when Bailey was talking to him and their sisters. Her girls all greeted Roxy with enthusiasm. Duke had been pure venom.
“Say that again,” Knox said. “I don’t think I heard you right.”
Tears rushing to her eyes, Roxy’s nostrils flared. She sighed. “You heard me just fine. Ignore—”
Knox narrowed his eyes. “You’re about to cry!” he accused. “What’s…fuck! It’s Duke, isn’t it? He’s the only person in the world who brings you to tears.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded. “He’s my child.”
“He’s a disrespectful little asshole,” Knox snarled. “I should fly to New Orleans and teach him a lesson.”
She gave him a watery smile and caressed his stubbly jaw. “You don’t even know the context in which he said it.”
“It doesn’t fucking matter, Roxanne,” Knox fumed. “You’re his mother and you’re owed his every respect.”
“Bailey was talking on speakerphone to Carissa and Alexia. You know she’s about to marry her girlfriend? They were discussing details. I walked in, heard that part of the conversation, and added my two cents. I didn’t know Duke was even on the phone. He really went for the jugular and said I’d only be relegated to looking in from the outside for long-term commitment since a man like Knox Harrington would never marry an ignorant,ghettoslut like me.” She tried to laugh it off, but the attempt sounded as hollow as it felt. “Mortician threatened to go to New Orleans and box Duke up. It took me and Bailey to talk him down. No matter what Duke does, I’ll never sanction his murder. It was such a mess, Knox. After we talked him down from Duke, the boy wanted to confront you about putting a ring on my finger. Part of it was I was so upset that it affected Bailey. To keep shit from blowing up too much more, I just lied and said you and me were talking about marriage. I was just waiting for you to propose.”
