“If this is about Digger, he ain’t out bad,” he said. He didn’t have fucking time to wait until she fixed her fucking mouth to talk. “He gotone more fuckin’ timeto fuck with my woman and he will be outdead. Got me?”
“Thank you for not killing him.”
She shut the fuck upafuckingainand didn’t get the fuck.
“What. The. Fuck. Do. You. Want?”
Bunny’s face crumpled and her shoulders sagged. “This is about Mortician,” she pushed out. “Last Tuesday—”
“Outlaw?” Ryan called, halting when he saw Bunny but not turning around. “Uh, Uncle Christopher…Outlaw?”
Leaning against the table, Christopher lifted at brow at Ryan’s stammering. The little motherfucker looked as if he hadn’t slept a wink in days.
Unprompted, he walked in. “I-I need to talk to you.” Looking at the floor, he shoved his hands in his pockets.
Judging by his shame and fear, Christopher knew what the fuck that motherfucker wanted to say weeks too fucking late. If he’d opened his fucking mouth sooner, they might’ve saved her.Howfuckinever, Bunny was there first and he wanted to know what was going on with Mortician.
“I-I’ll leave,” she said, and nearly ran out of the door she walked so fucking fast.
Christopher let her go and walked to his chair near the window at the head of the table. “Say what the fuck you got to say about Molly, fuckhead.”
He’d seen Ryan’s reaction during CJ’s break. Ryan had looked as if he wanted to fall to his knees as well. Except regret and guilt kept that motherfucker standing.
Ryan nodded. “It is. She’s…I know…” Tears rushed to his eyes and he shook his head. “I want her back and I’m sorry…I’m so sorry about everything I’ve done. Everyone I’ve hurt.”
Christopher glowered at him.
“That’s…that’s all…” He turned toward the door, still a motherfucking coward. Doing dirty underhanded shit and refusing to own up.
“Sit the fuck down,” Christopher ordered.
Ryan hung his head.
“Ain’t asked you, motherfucker.”
It took a minute, but Ryan finally reached the chair to Christopher’s right. Elbows on table, he cradled his head.
“Ain’t no fuckin’ secret I ain’t been myself,” Christopher started. “Shit I shoulda noticed just breezed the fuck by me. For instance, no matter how many fuckin’ times I reviewed that fuckin’ security footage, watchin’ Tom Harris enter the hospital, then leave with Molly, I ain’t ever understood how that motherfucker knew what time none of the Dwellers would be there. When me or Megan visited Jo, we’d check on Molly. Roxanne, Zoann, Kendall, and Grant visited. Billson and EmberLeBan visited. CJ. Andyou. Except the last twenty-four hours she was there.”
Ryan flinched.
Christopher leaned forward and clasped his hands in front of him. Something he’d kept from everybody, but especially Bitsy. It would devastate her, knowing what her boy did to an innocent girl because he was a jealous, miserable motherfucker. “You know what the fuck else I fuckin’ found fuckin’ funny?”
Silence.
“When Stretch pulled your fuckin’ phone records, Tom Harris’s number was on them.”
The color dropped from Ryan’s face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Ever thought how your ma might feel if she find out her son sent an innocent girl to her death cuz he was a jealous motherfucker?”
He started to cry.
“I asked Stretch to see the fuckin’ records myself. He still ain’t brought them. Cuz, see, there’s a conspiracy around this motherfucker to protect fuckheads that don’t deserve protectin’. My head been every fuckin’ where than where the fuck it shoulda been. At the fuckin’ least, my club coulda shared that fuckin’ space. But I fuckin’ thought motherfuckers had enough honor and fairness to uphold the fuckin’ club while I saw to my fuckin’ wife.”
His sobs rose.
“This past month been even worse fuckin’ hell than the previous two. I’m askin’ you point fuckin’ blank—what the fuck Bash want?”
