Page 11 of Ruptured
“I was thinking the same thing. I can understand Meggie and Outlaw allowing this because of everything that’s going on. But Diesel? He’s too smart to be so dumb.”
Kendall wanted to swing by the hospital to check on Meggie and Rebel before she headed home, so she got to her feet. Grabbing her purse from the drawer of the credenza behind her desk, she saw the folder containing all the legal documents pertaining to Rule. Picking it up, she flipped through the pages and found everything in order. After staring at the page withM. Wilkins, Father Wilkins’s signature, she turned to Brooks. “I have a meeting with an assistant DA in the morning about a robbery case. Make sure Beams scan the documents. If I can’t pin down Christopher, I’ll have him eSign.”
“I might do it myself, since I plan to stay a little late tonight.”
He was preparing for a trial, too.
“Okay.” She kissed his cheek and smiled. Just as she remembered doing to her real father before he was killed. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good evening.”
Brooks nodded to her and smiled, then walked out.
Watching his mother had become Rory’s new pastime, since his fuckhead father turned his back on her. With Rebel and Aunt Meggie so gravely ill, he just couldn’t face his father. At the hospital, Rory would’ve been relegated to the waiting room, so when Mom announced she was going to her office, he jumped at the chance to escape, relieved it was Saturday. His focus onschool diminished every day. Soon, he’d have zero interest.
The minute Mom dropped him off at the mall and drove away, Rory called Gypsy and hung out with her. Although questioning her about whatever she remembered from years ago was his primary goal, for which he paid her, he also didn’t turn down the other things she agreed to teach him. Once they finished talking–and other things–he told Gypsy to drop him off at Turn Creek Bridge. He’d been on the pedestrian deck for hours, watching Mom.
Like everyone else, he was reeling, unable to believe that less than forty-eight hours ago, fun and games were on everyone’s minds.
Rory hated to see her cry, but he loved her strength, even when she didn’t realize she had it. It took a strong woman to deal with—and still love—John Peter Donovan.
He had been a good dad to Rory and JJ, a nightmare to Mattie, and indifferent toward Blade. Rorylovedhis father; he just hated that motherfucker. All the qualities that helped to make him such an icon among some of the members, all the smarts that allowed him to draw his own faction within the club to continue blocking Uncle Christopher, lay in fucking flames, burned away by jealousy and stupidity.
If Dad wanted toleadthe club, Rory might understand his behavior better but his dislike of overseeing the club was legendary. Rory didn’t even know why his father continued to run for, and win, the vice president’s position.
He wasn’t fucking qualified.
Lighting a cigarette and taking a few puffs, Rory watched Gramps walk out of Mom’s office. She grabbed her purse and her fur of the day, draped it over an arm, and looked around.
Did she suspect she was being watched?
Rory doubted it. Mom wasn’t bluffing Gramps that she’d tell Diesel about Grandma’s idiocy. Rory wasn’t sure what his littlesister had done, but they both knew Rory’s watchful eye had to fly under the radar of their father. If Mom saw a red light, she might ask Dad about it, then Rory and Mattie would be busted.
Hecould handle his father; Mattie couldn’t. Just as he was determined to protect Mom, he was just as determined to protect Matilda. Dad was erratic and his mood turned without warning. For now, he played nice with Mattie. How long that would last, no one knew.
So, no, Dad didn’t need to know Rory watched Mom. During school, he set alerts—Mattieset alerts. Whenever someone came into her office, it beeped or vibrated, and Rory did a quick check to make sure everything was fine.
He planned to call Dad if he ever found her in distress. If Dad didn’t answer or refused to help, he’d speed dial Uncle Christopher and Uncle Mortician.
He took more drags and smoke plumed in front of him. Mom remained in the middle of her office, her expression so vulnerable Rory wanted to find Dad and bash his fucking face in.
How could Dad do that to her? What the fuck was wrong with that motherfucker?
Logan.
Logan was wrong with Dad.
He was Logan’s grandson. He looked like that fuckhead and the older he got, the more he turned into him.
Pain shot through Rory.
Was that his fate, too? Did insanity run in the family?Helooked like his father and, by extension, his great-grandfather. Should he even marry when he was older? Would he curse his sons, too? Or was he just running scared because of the depth of his father’s fuckery? Was it because of what hethoughthe knew. Mom’s research debunked most of Bash’s claims, despite his documents. So now what?
A few short weeks ago, Rory was convinced Bash marked Aunt Meggie for death. He’d told CJ everything he’d discovered. He’d almost confessed to Aunt Meggie. If CJ had been listening and actually heard Rory or if he hadn’t chickened out when he faced Aunt Meggie, his confession would’ve been pointless. Dad would’ve died because he’d believed Bash as much as Rory.
More proof he was doomed.
Sometimes, Rory felt the inescapable weight of the Donovan genes. He viewed women a certain way; embraced vengeance and violence.
Nature or nurture?
