Page 8 of Relentles
“Tired,” Roxanne corrected around laughter. “I haven’t started dinner because Bailey didn’t want to miss you when you came down. She made me sit in the living room to wait for you.”
Bailey held up her hands, allowing him to notice her polished nails. “Me and Mommy get the same,” she informed him with pride. “Lexa with MeMe.”
“Alexia. Now, tell your daddy what color your nails are, baby,” Roxanne instructed.
“Red,” she said without hesitation. “I tell Daddee colors, Mommy.”
“We can do that after you eat. I’ll get your flashcards and you can show Daddy the colors you know.” Roxanne gave him a hesitant look. “If he has time.”
Bailey reached for her mother.
“I’m here because I have time on my hands,” he lied, allowing Roxanne to take Bailey into her arms.
“What do you plan on cooking?” Joe asked.
She wrinkled her nose. “I have to see what’s in the freezer. I haven’t had a chance to get to the store.” She yawned. “Having a four-year-old and a two-year-old is tiring.”
“How about steaks tonight?” Joe’s eyes lit up. The motherfucker loved red meat. “We can fire up the grill.”
“We could if I had a goddamn grill. Since I don’t, how about I defrost chicken legs for barbeque?”
“If you don’t have a grill, you can’t make barbeque,” K-P told her, frowning at her contrasting words.
“I got an oven, so fuck you. Barbeque is just as good when it’s baked.”
“Roxanne!” Joe said, aghast. “The fucking travesty, babe. If you don’t put the shit on a grill, you don’t have real barbeque.”
“As long as you got the fucking sauce and meat to put that sauce on, you got barbeque, Joe.”
Shaking his head, he laughed. “Not. How about I make a run to the supermarket?”
“Not for steaks,” she protested. “I haven’t gotten paid yet and—”
“What the fuck you mean, babe?” K-P demanded. “You’re not paying for it. That motherfucker is,” he said, nodding in Joe’s direction.
“I’m not arguing,” Roxanne said, “since Bailey’s out for the count and I need to lay her down.”
“She’s like her old man,” K-P said, puffing out his chest. “She can fall asleep in an active construction zone.”
Roxanne nodded. “Be right back.”
By the time she returned Bailey free, Joe had left, and K-P was in the kitchen, slicing onions.
“Do I detect the beginning of onion rings?” Roxanne asked, sliding onto the lone stool at the small, butcher block table.
“You do,” K-P confirmed.
“What were you and Big Joe arguing about? I heard bits and pieces, but none of it made sense. Are you in trouble?”
“Logan’s up to his same bullshit,” K-P said, his words sounding like the brush-off they were.
She studied him, then looked away. “I know you’re buying this house for me, but you can’t waltz in here like you own it. You pay the mortgage. It’s in my name for a reason, though. No club ties. Safety. Security. I haven’t talked to you in a month. Suddenly, you’re using your spare fucking key to go through my shit. You can’t do that.”
As much as he’d encouraged Joe to walk away, K-P had come to town to put measures into place that protected his brother. Logan might try to make K-P suffer until he talked, but he’d still never admit to anything. About the only thing K-P didn’t have was Joe’s new will. Eventually, its location would have to be known. What would happen if Joe ended up as Logan’s next body? A missing fucking will would do no one any good.
K-P had the other documents associated with the clubs, the church, and the additional properties. Not only didn’t Joe know the extent of what K-P had in his possession, but K-P himself hadn’t had a chance to read and verify a good many of them. In time he would. But that was another day’s problem.
“It’s not only Bailey and me now.”
