Page 262 of Ruptured
CJ lost his hold on her and she rushed Uncle Digger, punching him in his fucking mouth. Although Bishop and Kaia tried to pull her away, she punched Uncle Digger again and delivered a few kicks.
Diesel walked to her, ignored her struggles, and yanked her back, rescuing Uncle Digger. By then, the motherfucker was on the floor beaten, bloody and still dripping slop.
“Do any of you motherfuckers respect my mother?” Rebel demanded.
“Do you?” Uncle Digger struggled to a sitting position. “You see that little cunt as a weakling, so you always fight her fucking battles. If you fucking didn’t, you’d step the fuck out of the way and let the fucking chips fall where they may.”
“My whole fucking family lost their goddamn minds,” Uncle Mort complained, reaching for Uncle Digger.
The motherfucker crawled away.
“Yeah, they have, Uncle Mort,” Rebel said harshly, struggling against Diesel’s hold. “But this motherfucker?” She pointedto Uncle Digger who was darting around the kitchen like a jackass to escape Uncle Mort’s wrath and smearing shit everywhere. “That’s your fucking fault. You left Harley to face the consequences when she turned into a raging bitch, yet youalwaysprotect this grown greedy motherfucker who needs to face the outcome of his own bad fucking behavior.”
Uncle Mort froze, the pain and regret on his face hurting CJ. Uncle Val averted his gaze, obviously agreeing with Rebel.
Mom sat on a stool. “Put Rebel down, Diesel, and get Digger. Rebel, call Stretch and tell him the situation.” She dug in her pocket and produced her phone. She held it out to Reb.
Once Rebel followed Mom’s orders, Uncle Mort sat heavily next to her and bowed his head.
Diesel pointed a gun at Uncle Digger’s head.
Uncle Mortician went ashen. “Meggie–”
“What do you want me to do with him, Aunt Meggie?” Diesel sounded entirely too fucking happy.
“Bash him in the skull, yank out his brain, and toss his body to crocodiles,” Rebel said resentfully, throwing Mom’s phone on the breakfast bar.
“The idea has merit but that would devastate your Uncle Mort and Aunt Bunny,” Mom said as if she’d ever allow such a gruesome fate. “Take him outside and hose him down, Diesel.”
Disappointment crossed Diesel’s face, but he nodded.
Mom swept CJ with a look, then nodded to the stools on the other side. “You two sit,” she told him and Rebel.
Immediately, tension settled into CJ. He’d disappointed her, which was the last thing he wanted, especially after her insight freed something inside him. No wonder Dad had beenOutlawfor so many years. Behind every powerful man, there was a strong woman.
Mom rubbed Uncle Mort’s back, then leaned her head against his bicep.
“While I agree you should allow Digger to face the music, I understand why you can’t,” she said softly. “Most of the time, his actions endanger his life. But he’s beginning to take advantage of that privilege.”
“You got to get the motherfucker in line, Mort,” Uncle Val agreed. “We all know how it feel to wait for Prez to issue a life-or-death verdict. But being a kid saved Ryan. Diggerkeepsfucking with Meggie lately. Now, Outlaw going to want to know why the fuck he beat up and who the fuck did it? If he find out it was Reb, he’ll know it had something to do with Meggie.”
He let those words sink in, patted Uncle Mort’s back and headed toward the mudroom. A moment later, the snick of a closing door reached them.
“Leave Digger alone for tonight,” Mom advised, lifting her head. “Check on Bunny. She left early because she knows what happened. He placed her in a terrible predicament and she’s quite upset. She loves him, though. Like you do.”
“What the fuck can I tell her, Meggie?”
“I asked her if she wants a bigger house and she said that she does,” Mom said. “Digger drained their accounts, Mortician. On gambling, then he gambled away what he won. Money has always been his problem.”
“I thought Bunny was handling the accounts.”
“He told her she was treating him as a child and demanded more access,” Meggie said. “Now, he’s waiting for the quarterly residuals from your parents’ estates to gamble that away too. Not to build Bunny’s house or to repay me or anything responsible.”
“Fuck,” Uncle Mort said.
“Suppose he wouldn’t receive quarterly residuals from Sharper’s estate and your mother’s money? Suppose the club wasn’t financially solid? Suppose I didn’t know how to trade?”
“That stupid motherfucker would be better off!” Uncle Mortician snarled.
