Page 200 of Relentles
She wouldn’t admit to confusion or uncertainty. He’d pounce on that weakness.
“I don’t know you, sweetheart.”
Oh, but he did. Judging by some of his words, he knew she was an attorney, he knew she was affiliated with bikers, and he knew of Johnnie. Maybe, he hadn’t revealed himself as a threat, but a warning.
“If that’s the case, get the fuck out of my face. Our conversation is over.”
He stared at her a moment longer, nodded, and turned away. Upon seeing his back rockers, Kendall gasped, her mind spinning.
The American Scorpions and the Death Dwellers were mortal enemies.
She’d just come face-to-face with the infamous Bash.
Which meant one thing—Johnnie and Bash were acquainted.
Chapter Twenty-Eight - Johnnie
Pouring himself a whisky, Johnnie tossed it back, then grabbed the decanter…Fuck it. Instead of wasting time, he’d skip the unnecessary step of using a glass and guzzle from the source. Fuck, an unopened bottle would work even better since it would be full.
Alas, Kendall kept their bottles of alcohol in the kitchen pantry, directing their housekeeper to refill when the decanters were half-empty.
Or half-full as his gorgeous wife preferred to say. Except, today, all the decanters were only about a quarter filled.
Maybe Kendall needed to restock. Yet, after the spiral he’d sent her into and almost having Christopher kill both of them, the neglected bar didn’t surprise him.
Johnnie walked to a wingback chair and dropped heavily in it. Arriving home, he hadn’t sought out his wife or kids because he’d needed a moment alone. Fuck, days alone. Since that wasn’t an option, he’d slunk to the library and headed to the expensive glass cart, holding expensive crystal decanters, containing expensive, and sometimes hard-to-obtain, alcohol.
His goal had been solitude and drinking, but the room arrested him. Kendall’s stamp was everywhere, from the ornate chandelier and Aubusson rug to the heavy furniture and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.
If Christopher had brought Johnnie to the meatshack, the life he’d built with Kendall would’ve been one of tragedy and wasted opportunity. She’d made their house a home, loving him even when he wasn’t lovable.
He glanced around again.
Years ago, when Kendall decided their house needed overhauling, she’d sought Megan’s advice.
It was the first time Kendall had exposed herself to rejection after her suicide attempt. She’d fretted for the two days it took Megan to respond. Johnnie had sympathized with Kendall’s unease as she awaited Megan. Instead of the insidious resentment he always directed at Megan on Kendall’s behalf, he realized that his sister-in-law might not want to befriend Kendall again and she had every right to reject her. Nor did he demand an explanation from Megan when she finally called. She had her own family and her own life. Gatekeeping Kendall was long ago scratched off her list.
Although he remained silent, Johnnie accepted the call. Kendall froze at seeing Megan’s name on her screen.
“Hi,” she greeted, hesitant.
“H-hey, Meggie,” Kendall responded and his heart broke.
The confidence, so long a hallmark of her persona, was gone. It hadn’t been real in the first place. She’d passed off self-doubt and self-loathing with bravado. Superficial at best, dangerous at worst.
“Um…” Megan had cleared her throat. “I got your message.”
Kendall nodded, though she wasn’t on video chat, so Megan couldn’t see her. Johnnie resisted taking over the call.
“You’re redecorating your house?”
Her eyes filling with tears, Kendall pushed out, “Yes.”
“And you want my advice?” Megan sounded completely confused.
Sniffling, Kendall nodded. “Yes,” she remembered to say.
Megan cleared her throat. “I didn’t respond immediately because I was debating on dropping in, but I didn’t want to intrude. You have excellent taste, so I wondered if I misunderstood.”
