Page 91 of Restless
“D-do you think he’s dead?” A sob escaped her. “I love him. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”
“He fine, Red,” Mort soothed. Motherfuckerdeservedshoving over the railing of the stairwell. Maybe, if he fell on his fucking head, it would knock sense into him.
Johnnierefusedto tell Mort why the fuck he was lurking in the shadows of the hospital. Meggie wanted to tell Outlaw. Mort didn’t blame her.Hewanted to tell Prez. Except he wasn’t sure of the fallout. Shit was heading south without the fucking complication of having Johnnie as an open enemy if Outlaw didn’t fuck him uporOutlaw being more fucked up if he fucked Johnnie up.
“You think he’s dead too!” Red’s voice blared through the phone. “You grunted when I asked again.”
He hadn’t fucking heard her. “Red—”
Her sobs tore through him, cutting out when another call came through. “Kendall, baby, calm down. Roxanne calling right now.” Probably to ask where the fuck he was at. Maybe, Baileydidcare about his whereabouts. She had her pride, too, and he’d walked out because he was trying to talk aboutthemandshewanted him to understand Harley’s point-of view. “I’m going to tell her to call you.”
“But—”
He disconnected the call, anxious to hear what Bailey had to say. But Roxanne had already hung up. Just as he pulled up his keypad, Tina’sProud Maryblasted.
“Hey, Roxanne,” he answered, ignoring the amusement of the men at the table. “Everything okay?”
“Where the fuck you at, boy?” she demanded.
“At a poker game,” he said cautiously.
Silence and then, “Things that bad that you tempting your dick around naked women, baby?”
He couldn’t stand the suspense. “What did Bailey tell you?”
“Answer my fucking question, Mortician.”
“Fuck, man. I’m not cheating on Bailey. You know me fucking better than that.”
“If you are, I’m driving there and kicking the shit out of you. Goddamn, never mind. I have to save my strength to beat that bitch I gave birth to.”
Mortician stiffened. She was talking loud enough to be overheard and the other men snickered.
“Put me on speaker.”
“No.”
“I’m not asking your fucking ass, boy.”
“Mortician, please, just do it,” Knox called in the background.
Scowling, Mort threw his phone down and pressed the appropriate button. “By the way, Roxanne, I don’t appreciate you threatening Bailey. She a grown fucking woman. Don’t you lay your hands on her.”
“Boy?” she called, ignoring Mort.
Boy straightened. “Hello, Roxy.”
“Fuck off. If you lead my son-in-law down the path of rack-and-ruin because his wife being a stupid fucking heifer, I’m hacking your fucking cock off.”
“No, you aren’t!” Knox barked. “That would require you touching his cock. That’s cheating.”
“Baby, your priorities fucked up,” Roxanne retorted, “but okay. You’ll have to do it.”
“I’m not touching another man’s cock!”
“We’ll talk after, Knox. You heard me, Boy?”
“Knox is right,” Boy said with amusement. “Not only would one of you have to touch it, you’d have to catch me.”
