Page 80 of Rebellious

“Is Jana Rebel? I don’t care who Jana fucks. The only person I’d kill Jana over is if she fucked Kaia Riggs. I’d make her watch me kill him, then I’d keep her alive for a week or two so she could suffer as his dead body decomposed, then I’d kill her.”

“Kaia’s too hot behind Fia to even look at Jana,” Narci said.

Torrin shook his head. “I’m not too sure about that. Every time Emo Boy shows his fucking face, Jana perks up. He might not want to fuck her, but I think she wants to fuck him. I’d go so far to say he’d stick his cock in her just to spite you, Diesel.” Ignoring Diesel’s outrage, he nodded to Narci. “And Kaia’s hot behind Fia because Fia sucks good dick. That motherfucker wants Rebel. He’s just emptying his balls until she’s ready.”

Diesel thought about all the times he’d seen Kaia and Jana together. He cared more about what Kaia was doing with Rebel than how Jana was looking at Kaia. And he still didn’t truly give a fuck—it was the principle. He fucking hated Kaia.

For whatever reason, Diesel always thought Jana was better than fucking everything she saw. He thought she was better than him and deserved so much more. Except all evidence showed he hadn’t really felt that way.

She could fuck almost anyone and he’d see it as a license to enjoy other women. Otherwise, it wouldn’t matter. Now or ever.

Mortician owed the Harringtons. With the help of Knox’s mother, they’d gotten Bailey a spot in a very exclusive rehab center. Across the goddamn country, in a picturesque Maine town on Penobscot Bay.

Hal, Knox’s father, lent Mortician the company jet. Within hours of Bailey’s release from Hortensia General, they were airborne.

Roxanne wanted to come, but Mortician asked her to stay in Hortensia to help with his children.

Bailey’s intake would be first thing in the morning, so Mortician checked them into a luxury hotel surrounded by trees and overlooking the harbor.

He rented a suite, always wanting the best for Bailey. She’d sobered up on the plane, repeating the same goddamn ramblings when she wasn’t sleeping through most of the six-hour flight. A car awaited them at the airport, located ten miles outside of the city.

Just thinking about the amount of money he’d spent sent him to the window to enjoy the view, hoping to calm his racing heart and praying for the strength to do what needed doing. Most of all, he prayed he’d be able to leave Bailey all alone while returning to the other side of the country because of his children and his club duties.

The bathroom door squeaked open, and Mortician turned, smiling at his wife. Her hair was still damp from her shower, her skin smooth and perfect.

Remembering their last trip, he laughed nervously. They were either arguing or making love, neither of which Bailey needed now. It was part of the reason he’d allowed her to ramble, unchecked, on the plane between her naps. She needed kindness, patience, and understanding. “How you feeling, baby?”

“Better,” she said coolly. “Thank you.”

“It’s going to be so fucking hard on me with you so far away. And I don’t—”

“It won’t be hard on me, Lucas,” she interrupted, stalking to the plush rose-beige sofa on the other side of the suite and dropping onto it. “I can’t wait to see the back of you.”

Mortician swallowed. Bailey saying that type of shit while she was fucked up was one thing, but she was mostly sober now.

“I love you, pretty girl,” he reminded her. He couldn’t get all up in his feelings while she was so vulnerable. He’d promised her in sickness and in health, for better or for worse. “So fucking much.”

Her chin wobbled and she glanced away.

“You not being home going to devastate the boys. Not to mention Harley. I don’t even want to think—”

“Then don’t,” she said flatly. “Because you put your daughter before me, too. You never demanded she apologize. You put Kendall before me. I don’t care if what Johnnie said isn’t true. And I don’t even want to talk about that fucking bitch Meggie.”

Mortician heaved in a breath and raised his hands in supplication. He’d heard it at home. He’d heard it on their overnight trip and at Roxanne’s. Most recently, he’d heard it on the plane. “I promise you going to look back on this and realize—”

“How you deserted me. I’ll never think differently. You gave Harley right every time.”

She’d fucking rewritten the entire situation, but he wouldn’t remind her of that truth when there were more important ones that she kept forgetting. “Bailey, I’m Harley’s daddy. She never asked to be born. We supposed to put her first. She been through a lot. You not this cold bitch. I know you not. You have grace and beauty and poise.”

“All wasted on you.”

“You love me.” He overlooked yet another emotional wound she inflicted on him. “You told me when you was three sheets to the wind. The drunk mind speak what the sober mind can’t.”

Instead of reaffirming his words, she lifted her chin. Her delicate nostrils flared. “I’m empty, with nothing left to give as a wife and nothing left for Harley as a mother. I definitely don’t have anything to give to that cunt who calls you if she breaks a nail. She isn’t my cousin. Thank God for small miracles.”

“Bailey, baby, I know you hurt and upset for so many different reasons, but leave Meggie girl alone. She never did shit to you.”

“Except survive and thrive. Fucking bitch. The next time somebody holds that twat underwater, she’ll die and then we’ll see if Meggie is as strong as she pretends.”