Page 220 of Relentles
She tensed. “He’ll kill you if you wait that long. Bash has confronted Meggie and approached me. He’s fucked with the kids. You don’t think Outlaw will kill you slowly and painfully?”
“No, he won’t,” he said, his confidence nearly laughable. He didn’t believe the bullshit he was flinging. She saw the fear in his eyes.
He was so fucking stubborn. After all these years, had he learned nothing?
“What about Willard and Wallace?”
“I’ll tell Rory to report any suspicious behavior to me.”
Absolutely not. She refused to have her son involved in this mess. As it was, her daughter had a target on her back. Bitterness surged through her, Johnnie’s secretive, blase approach to a threat on their family—the entire club—flaring up her temper. She took a deep breath to calm herself, struggling to remain level-headed as she spoke again.
“Johnnie—”
“Bash is back in Salt Lake City, gorgeous. You’re all safe for now.”
Kendall felt as if her heart was being ripped in half. To her, this wasn’t a good idea. She and Johnnie had survived so much, overcome so much turmoil. Their most recent spat was supposed to be another bump in the road, an issue they’d move past with time. Except, it was so much more complicated. No longer was it only Johnnie being an overbearing asshole; it wasnow a life-or-death situation. No matter his intentions, he’d be labeled a traitor to the club, signing his death warrant.
“I-I need time to think,” she said through her tears, pulling away from him.
Trusting him while life was sweet was simple. She needed to show him she trusted him in times of strife, but that was easier said than done. With wine in her system and emotions high, she couldn’t give him a firm ‘yes’ or ‘no’ at this moment.
He frowned, taking a step back and putting more distance between them. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said.”
She swiped at her eyes, practicing the breathing exercises her therapist recommended she do during times of stress. Except, it was difficult to destress with a disgruntled husband in her midst.
“Kendall, sweetheart, we don’t have time for you to think.” The hardness in his tone took her aback and made her narrow her eyes. “I need an answer—now.”
“We don’t return to Hortensia for another two days, Johnnie. That’s more than enough time for me to think things through. I promise I’ll have an answer by then.”
She thought that may appease him, but that notion was quickly dashed when he opened his mouth again.
“Megan would never hesitate to support Christoper,” he spat, his gray eyes cold and accusing. “She always stands by her husband.”
The implication of his words was clear. Meggie was a better wife than Kendall. Just like that, feelings of inferiority long ago buried rose to the surface, creating a flurry of emotions. Hurt, betrayal, jealousy, and most of all, rage aimed at Johnnie.
She stomped to him, intending to slap the shit out of her husband. He had her so angry thinking rationally was a challenge. With his verbal abuse, a slap was the least he deserved.
He saw her fist torpedoing toward his jaw and grabbed her wrist before the blow connected. His bruising grip frustrated her further. Wincing, she struggled to free herself.
“Stop throwing a fucking tantrum,” he said, not releasing her.
“Fuck you!”
He grinned, though it was devoid of warmth. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
That was the last straw. A growl escaped her throat, and her knee slammed into his dick. She jerked away from him. A pained howl escaped him as he doubled over. If looks could kill, she’d be fucking toast. She rubbed the wrist he’d been trying to crush, then gathered up her laptop. Before she went up the stairs, she turned to him.
“Sleep on the couch tonight.”
With that, she stormed up the stairs. The moment she was in her bedroom, a fresh batch of tears formed, her rage fading into utter misery.
As she cried herself to sleep, it came to Kendall that she hadn’t once thought of the rise of the Donovans, where Rory was positioned to lead the club. When she’d finally accepted their place in the hierarchy, her husband went rogue.
Life was just that fucked-up.
Chapter Thirty-One – Harley
