Page 238 of Misrule
The implacability in his tone matched the stubborn set of his jaw. For awhile now he’d been changing. She just had to recall the spanking he'd given her to remind her of how he’d gotten control of the situation and didn’t intend to let go.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Once the nurse checked Kendall out and placed a call to her doctor, Johnnie left Roxanne in Kendall’s room, watching over her as she slept. Kendall looked at peace, though her face was drawn. But her hair, always so vibrant, stood out against the white of the sheets. To Johnnie, she was as beautiful as ever.
A part of him still felt doubt about the future of their marriage. He hoped this was the wakeup call they both needed.
Johnnie couldn’t begin to express his gratefulness that Kendall had survived. Since Digger had rushed him to the hospital to be at her side, Johnnie hadn’t left. Earlier today, Mortician had delivered Johnnie’s Navigator, visited Kendall—though she hadn’t awakened yet—then returned to Hortensia with Val, who’d followed Mortician to the hospital.
Having his SUV at his disposal came in handy now. Once he slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, he texted Christopher to let him know Kendall had awakened.
In response, Christopher sent a thumbs-up.
At first, Christopher and Megan’s absence had outraged him, until Johnnie had discovered the reason why. He and Christopher had kept in contact via text, neither of them willing to leave their women to check on the other’s wife.
Johnnie set his phone aside, opened his glove compartment, checking for extra bullets. If he needed them. He hadn’t decided how he’d kill Emily.
Discovering Kendall’s heartache over bullshit texts sent ice cold rage through Johnnie. He had one goal in mind. If he had to spend the rest of his life hunting Emily down, he would.
Enough was enough. Emily should’ve been killed ages ago. He was so fucking disappointed in himself that he hadn’t come to that conclusion before then. Turning his radio to his favorite country station, Johnnie whistled to a couple of songs as he drove to Emily’s place.
When he arrived, he found a parking spot, grabbed the extra bullets for the Glock he carried at all times, then headed up the iron steps to her second-floor apartment.
The neighborhood was run-down and riddled with signs of lawlessness. Graffiti scrawled on buildings. A corner store where men loitered. The scent of piss and alcohol ruining the air. Loud music and raucous laughter rising all around him.
The thin door allowed him to hear the heavy breathing emanating from the other side. He hated to be a spoilsport, of course, but some fucking things couldn’t be helped.
Adrenaline pouring though him, Johnnie kicked the door in, satisfied when it flew open underneath the pressure of his boots. Emily, naked and flushed, jumped off the lap of a motherfucker.
“Who the fuck are--?”
The shot to his head stopped the fucker cold. Emily screamed and scrambled to her feet, tripping backwards.
“Johnnie! What are you doing?” she cried, terror in her eyes. “You k-killed him.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Johnnie said cordially. “Did I? Maybe, he isn’t dead.”
Firing three more times in quick succession, Johnnie shot the nameless motherfucker until he was also faceless, wild with bloodlust, appeased at Emily’s sobs and pleas.
“I’m calling the cops,” Emily cried, grabbing her cell phone from the table that stood in front of the sofa where the faceless corpse slumped.
Johnnie reached her in three strides and yanked the phone from her hand, grabbing her throat. Her nudity seemed poetic justice. She’d leave the world in the same fucking way she came in.
“Why the fuck did you lie to Kendall?” he asked, not truly interested in her answer. He didn’t give a fuck about her reasons.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Emily gasped out, attempting to pry his hand from around her neck. “What did I lie to Kendall about?”
“Fuck you,” he snarled through clenched teeth, shaking her. “You showed her those fucking phony texts.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I swear! Just c-calm down and talk to me.”
“You’re a goddamn liar,” he said, losing patience. The club’s policies were not to harm or kill women.Thatwas the reason he was talking to her, trying to wring a confession from her.
He still intended to kill her, so who gave a fuck about a confession.
Shoving his gun back into his pocket, Johnnie wrapped both hands around Emily’s neck and met her terrified gaze. She struggled for a couple of minutes, until the effects of oxygen deprivation claimed her. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she went limp. He released her and let her smack the floor.
He wasn’t sure if she twitched or if he imagined the movement. Not wanting Emily alive to ever torture Kendall again, he drew his gun, stood over her, and fired two shots into her head, smiling at the spray of blood.
