His guess was Uncle Christopher. Mortician would want to take him to the meatshack and Johnnie would, too. Uncle Christopher would just shoot the fuck out of him and not care who saw. Including Mom.
His treachery deserved death. Except he didn’t want his mother to hate him forever. He couldn’t rest in peace. No matter how much he feared what may or may not be on the other side, it was the only retribution worthy of his betrayal.
He sat at his desk in his room, alone, while everyone else slept. Mom was so happy that Molly was back. She and the aunts were already creating a plan of action to help her once she recovered.
Dad told Ryan how proud of him he was, while Devon looked relieved that he no longer had to bear the burden of Ryan’s terrible secret. His little brother probably expected the cyberbullying to have ended with Molly safely in their fold again.
Instead of sleeping, Ryan decided to take the opportunity to look at one of Harley’s recent videos. He’d stopped opening Willard’s multimedia messages days ago. He just hadn’t been able to bear Harley’s weeping and degradation.
But he needed answers. Either Willard ordered her to do unspeakable things or her body would provide evidence of Nardo’s abuse.
Or both.
Sighing, he studied his phone, a monster in his hands. He had to swallow his guilt and man up. Molly was back. There was no longer an excuse for this travesty to continue.
Biting the bullet, he opened the message he’d received from Willard sometime yesterday. It was old footage of the first time Ryan and Harley had been together.
Stupid motherfucker.
Ryan almost gave up. Willard was fucking with him, then he thought of Harley again and opened the message from last Thursday.
At first, he only saw Harley’s most private areas while Willard’s disembodied voice directed her. Ryan wondered what app that fuckhead was using to disguise his voice and sound like the villain from a B-rated horror flick.
“Sit up,” he ordered.
Harley laid there for a moment, exposed, shamed.
“Get up now, slut!”
Ryan’s dinner tossed and turned in his gut. He could barely take it and her sniffle broke his heart.
Slowly, she struggled into a sitting position. He thought she took her time because she did this against her will. Then, it hit him. Seeing the bruises across her belly, the welts on her breasts, the purpling on the top of her thighs, Ryan knew she was in pain.
He knew Nardo was beating her. Abusing her. And Willard was compounding her mistreatment.
All because of Ryan. Because he’d given the Bart brothers access to her.
Sucking in air, Ryan double checked the date stamp. She’d recorded this the day after Mattie came over with her suspicions.
Ryan had to help her, though he couldn’t do it alone.
If he remembered correctly, Willard had messaged him a couple of weeks ago asking if he’d seen Harley’s shower footage. He’d also bragged how much Wally, Jr. enjoyed it.
Willard and Wallace seeing it was bad enough. But their dickhead daddy and those other perverts, too?
If Harley showed evidence of bruising, Ryan could take a screenshot, crop it to make it look like a snapped photo, and then show it to CJ. It was the easiest way and worth the ass-beating CJ would give him for violating her space. Swallowing his self-loathing and unease, Ryan got to work.
Unsure what the fuck to expect when he walked into his bedroom, it sure the fuck wasn’t finding every one of his kids, except CJ, Jo, and Diesel asleep in his goddamn bed.
Gunner slept between Megan and Rebel. Axel sprawled out next to his Ma, on his back, his arm thrown across her. She was on his right, curled on her side around Gunner, and facing Rebel. To Axel’s left, Ransom slept, unbothered by Axel’s other arm against his face. Ryder sprawled out across the foot.
Pushing away his annoyance, Christopher snatched his phone from his pocket and took several pictures. Megan loved photos, then he texted CJ and Diesel and ordered them to the room.
He hoped they came quickly. Christopher was fucking tired and only wanted to spend time with Megan.
Christopher had tapped Diesel to pick up CJ and Rory from the hospital and meet him at the house. It had taken hours to process that hotel room.
For the first time in a long time, Christopher missedhisCSI team. Johnnie handled the forensics and Cash helped Stretch with the digital shit. Val, Digger, and Mort were the jacks of all trades. Part clean-up crew, part CSI, part whatever Christopher needed. Cash’s bomb-making specialties could’ve come in handy. Just blow up the motherfucking motel and be done with it. Except Hortensia was no longer that rural place with a few hundred residents and dominated by the club.
