Page 85 of Ruptured
“I need to get shit rolling with Tío, Outlaw. I’ll let you know–”
“I don’t give a fuck, Mort. Just handle it.”
“You got it, Prez.” Mort started to turn but couldn’t leave his friend in such a precarious frame of mind. “Meggie don’t want a twenty-year-old kid to die, Outlaw. But she don’t trust Johnnie and Easton’s story didn’t add up. I doubt she want them to die as long as they not a threat to you.She not up for games right now,” he reiterated. “You or them, it’s you. Always.”
“She told you that?” he asked quietly. “The last part, I mean.”
She’d been sobbing in his arms when she said that, but Mort left that out. “Yeah, Prez.”
The smallest smile curved his mouth and he sat a little straighter. “Let me know what you find out about Tío, so we can go from there.”
“Jo sleeping, Outlaw. Why don’t we figure this shit out together?”
By the time they’d gotten downstairs, Tío was still in surgery and Tabitha was gone. Outlaw called Riley and a preliminary background check revealed he’d been born in Colombia to Constanza Martinez and Gomez Arias, and was twenty-five, not twenty. He’d recently moved to the area from Providence, RI.
In essence, Easton and Johnnie’s stories checked out, minus the age difference. On the surface. Prez ordered Mort to make arrangements to have Tío moved to somewhere out of Diesel’s reach. They’d summoned Diesel to the smoking area near the elevators to get his take on the situation. Motherfucker wholeheartedly believed Tío was connected to Bash. Prez speculated Diesel killed Shine because Tabitha opened her mouth about their private business. Diesel insisted that was only a partial reason. He thought Shine was a spy.
But Prez wasn’t thinking like Outlaw. He was thinking like Christopher.
Now, hours after that upheaval, Mort hoped Prez had it right. If not, Bash and company drew ever closer to the interior of the club and their families.
Fuck.
As early morning stole away the darkness of dawn, a thin, misty fog rose from the ground in a haunting layer, the forest trapped between the frost of winter and the coming spring.
Across the way, Roxanne’s front door opened, and Grant waved. Straightening, Mortician nodded. His step brother-in-law took that as an invitation to visit and rushed down the steps, jogging across the cobblestoned pathway.
Blond, strapping, and blue-eyed, Grant could’ve been a hot, young playboy with the world at his feet. But he was a good kid, overcoming the murder of his mother and embracing his father’s new wife and new life. He smiled. “Just the man I want to see.”
Mort dug in his cut for his pack of cigarettes and a lighter. After Grant accepted one, Mort lit both. Knox hadn’t been happy when he discovered Grant’s smoking habit.
“You been stalking me or you got lucky and found me out here?”
“A little of both, Mort. You usually come out early in the morning and I’d been keeping watch at my window, waiting for you, then I fell asleep.”
Taking his cigarette between his fingers, Mort said, “this sound serious. Please don’t tell me your woman pregnant and you want me to tell Knox.”
“Pregnant? Cassidy Struthers? Never.”
“Glad to hear you keeping your cock covered.”
“And out of her,” Grant grumbled. “She’s not my type.”
She was a tall, willowy blonde from old money. Usually just his type.
“Knox and Hal loved her,” Mort said.
“Then Dad and Granddad can marry her,” Grant announced. “She’s so spoiled, Mort.”
“Ummhmm.” Mort took a few puffs of his cigarette. “And Brynn Mason not?”
Grant flushed. “Brynn’s too young for me, so she doesn’t count.”
Mort left it at that. He trusted Grant with Brynn more than he trusted Diesel with Rebel. “If this not about a chick, what do you need to talk to me about?”
Eyeing Mort with unease, Grant shifted. “CJ called me,” he said unexpectedly. Why was that news? They’d been friends almost from the moment they met. “He’s really upset about Rebel. I promised him I’d visit so we could talk in the cafeteria.”
“What did he say to that?” Mort asked, waiting for the real reason he’d mentioned CJ.
