Page 229 of Misrule
“Momma, Lucas is on his way,” Bailey said, a touch of fear in her voice.
They looked at each other, then up the staircase. It seemed a long, lonely trek to the second floor, when it was no bigger than any other staircases Roxy had seen.
“Stay here and wait for Mortician,” Roxy instructed, starting up the stairs.
Bailey’s hand on her forearm halted her. “Momma, wait. It might not be safe.”
“Trust me. I’m going to shoot first and ask questions later.”
Before Bailey could protest any further, Roxy barreled upstairs, ready to keep her promise.
All the doors were closed, except one at the end of the hallway.
Still gripping her gun, Roxy crept forward, her sense of dread growing.
When she walked into the room, she found it was the master bedroom. Kendall’s purse lay abandoned on the floor, next to her pumps. Sheets of paper and pens were scattered on her bed.
Light streamed from another opened door, drawing Roxy. The first thing her gaze landed on was a sheet of paper on the counter, next to an opened prescription bottle. Her gaze went to the floor.
For a moment, she thought she was imagining things. She was taking in everything so fast. Then, the scene registered.
Kendall on the floor, convulsing and foaming at the mouth, pills and medicine bottles all around her.
“Oh, no! No! No, no, no. Kendall, baby! No!”
Dropping to her knees, Roxy crawled to Kendall and gathered her in her arms.
“BAILEY!” she screamed, sobbing and shaking. “BAILEY!”
“Momma, what…?”
“Oh my god!” Bailey cried. “I’m going to call an ambulance.”
“Hold on, sugar,” Roxy pleaded through her tears.
Kendall had stilled. Somehow, Roxy didn’t dissolve into hysterics. She didn’t even remember setting her gun down. She only knew it wasn’t in her hands. Holding onto Kendall, she willed her to have the strength to survive, when it seemed she hadn’t had the will to live.
He would never forget Johnnie’s screams, filled with horror and grief and shock. They’d drawn Christopher from his office and made him rush down the hall, through the crowd, and toward the sound, his gun out.
The entire clubhouse had been thrown into momentary chaos, with brothers drawing whatever weapons they carried.
When Christopher reached Johnnie’s room, he’d found the door unlocked, so he’d gone in. It was then that Christopher realized that Johnnie had been yelling Kendall’s name.
His eyes wild, he’d grabbed Christopher. “She coded,” he sobbed. “They don’t know if they can save her.”
Shoving his nine back where he’d taken it from, Christopher tightened his hands on Johnnie’s arms. The motherfucker wasn’t making sense. “What the fuck you mean?Whothe fuck coded?”
“Kendall,” Johnnie managed. “Roxanne f-found her. She…they went…Kendall didn’t show up…Kendall overdosed.”
His sentences were all over the place.
“She coded,” he repeated, through his tears, loud and broken-hearted. He started to shake.
“Johnnie, listen to me,” Christopher ordered, holding his face between his hands so the motherfucker would focus. “You gotta pull yourself together.”
Hearing the words falling from his own lips, Christopher pushed aside any regret he might’ve felt. But he knew his statement meant nothing. When Megan was ill or missing, he could neverpull himself together.
“Ima getcha to the hospital.”
