“I haven’t killed a motherfucker since I fucked up Tom Harris. I’m having withdrawals.”
“Celia would be very proud of you. She hates all the killing that you do. She always sees the best in you.”
“You’re right. Celia loves me. She risked her life for me.”
“She did.”
“I’ll ignore my urges for her.” Bash met his gaze. “And for you. You don’t like unnecessary killing either.”
“I don’t, so thank you.”
“Get her medicine and my laptop. Save her if you can, but Easton, prepare yourself for when she croaks. I think she’s too bad off to survive.”
Not responding, Easton got to his feet and rushed away. When he threw open the door, Cleaner was lurking in the shadows, but he allowed Easton to pass without incident.
However, the heat of Cleaner’s gaze burned into Easton until he turned the corner and got out of the motherfucker’s sight.
“Can I have three knives, Aunt Kendall?”
Axel’s question sounded innocent enough, but it still gave Kendall pause and she lifted a brow, momentarily abandoning her salad prep. “What for?”
“‘Cause I’m bored and I want to show those two bitch ass babies how to stab a motherfucker.” Axel folded his arms and huffed. “I was happy making my flour cake and rolls until theytipped the bowl over.”
And created a mess that took an hour to clean.
The hustle and bustle of the day, the chaos of the kids, kept Kendall’s heartache at bay. Though it had been her idea for Meggie to take a break for a few days, Kendall’s role began as one to support her friend. She never expected it to turn into a question mark on her own return to the club.
“The knives, Aunt Kendall.”
“Sorry, love,” she said. “Knives are dangerous, so you may not have them.” She slid from the stool and went to the wine cooler, pulling out a very good chardonnay. “Why don’t you wash up for dinner?”
“You’re not asking me where Blade and Gunner are?”
“With Harley, Roxy, and Zoann.” Hiding a smile, Kendall opened her bottle of wine and swigged. “Do you want to help me with the salad?” she asked once she swallowed.
“Dinner is already late,” Axel grumbled. “Do we got to have salad?”
“I’m afraid so.” She swigged again. “You don’t like tomatoes, lettuce, cucumbers, radishes, carrots, and avocados?”
Cocking his head to the side, Axel glanced from her to the wine. “Diesel never drinks from a big bottle like that ‘cause it’s wine. You’re supposed to have a glass.”
“According to Johnnie too.”
He stiffened and snapped his brows together. “I’m not that motherfucker,” he spat, infusing his little voice with a surprising amount of hostility.
“Please don’t disrespect your uncle.”
“It’s notmyfucking fault he’s my uncle and I’m a man who only gives respect to a motherfucker who gives it back to me. Andyourman gives it to nobody. Not even himself.”
“You have a few years to go before you’re a man, honey.”
“By numbers. Uncle Johnnie reached that a loooonnnnnggggg time ago but his brain never caught up.”
Laughing, Kendall drank again.
“Why are you drinking from the bottle? Do I need to call Mom for an intercession?”
“An intervention?”
