“Kendall, I don’t want to hear your voice anymore,” Megan said in dismissal. “Get out of my house.”
“I should sue you for assault and battery,” Kendall said.
“And I should kill your fuckin’ ass for bitchery and misery,” Christopher shot back.
“Fuck you, asshole,” Kendall retorted, then focused on Meggie again. “You can’t bar me from club grounds.”
“She can’t,” Christopher said. “But my ass can.” He walked around Meggie and CJ, went to Kendall and glared at her. “From this fuckin’ moment to fuckin’ infinity, don’t fuckin’ ever set foot on club grounds a-fuckin-gain. That mean all your permissions gonna be revoked. You can’t get passed the mechanical fuckin’ gate. You can’t attend club functions. You can’t socialize with club members.”
“Oh, please. Johnnie’s a club member. Are you saying I can’t socialize with him?”
Christopher offered her a nasty grin. “You always the smartest fuckin’ bitch in the house, aintcha? You fuckin’ figure that shit out.” Ignoring Kendall’s gasp, he made a three hundred sixty degree turn, meeting each person’s gaze as he did. “Dinner cancelled. All you motherfuckers get the fuck outta my fuckin’ house.”
Without another word, he grabbed Meggie’s hand on one side of him and CJ’s on the other, and started limping out of the room, leaving everyone in stunned silence.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Hold on, Prez,” Digger called. “You can’t put us out before we eat. Think about all the food in the kitchen.”
Christopher paused. “Fine, eat,” he relented. “Then get the fuck out.”
A few years ago, every one of those motherfuckers would’ve been fucked up. Shot in the fucking head. Now, though…He hadn’t even been able to kill Johnnie when he should have.
Clearly, he had to find punishments that would be acceptable to both his principles and his pride. Threats didn’t work with family because a conscience wouldn’t allow you to fuck up assfucks you cared about.
He concentrated on keeping a straight face as he walked, refusing to give in to the pain he felt. Since he wasn’t walking with the care he had been, his cock was in agony. He wanted to undo the dick undoing. It was making his life so fucking miserable.
As he guided Megan and CJ up the staircase, he met Johnnie, Rory, Matilda, and JJ, whom Johnnie carried, making their way down.
He paused, allowing Christopher to pass. Neither of them said a word.
“Hey, Ro,” CJ said quietly.
“Hey, CJ,” Rory responded on a whisper, like the boys knew their parents were feuding and it would affect them, too.
“Rory can stay if he wanna and you let him,” Christopher called over his shoulder.
“Can I, Dad?” Rory’s little voice sounded hopeful.
“Of course, son,” Johnnie responded. “Come with me to tell Mom goodnight.”
“I don’t want to,” Rory responded tearfully. “I don’t like Mommie. She’s mean.”
“He overheard some of what happened before he ran upstairs and hid.” Johnnie sighed. “Fine, Rory. Go upstairs with CJ, Aunt Megan, and Uncle Chris.”
A moment later, Rory joined them, and Christopher continued on to the third floor. Megan had turned a room on the second floor into a huge playroom for the kids for when they hosted family night. Diesel was in charge of keeping a watch on them. Lyndsey hadn’t been over again since the treehouse incident.
Christopher had dropped her off at her house, told Diesel he had faith in his honesty, and dropped the fucking subject. No use harping on the shit. Either the motherfucker would listen or he wouldn’t.
Although CJ enjoyed playing with his cousins and Diesel made sure they didn’t get too out-of-hand, Christopher felt the rambunctious little motherfuckers would be too much for CJ tonight.
Christopher stopped in front of CJ’s room, released his hand, and then opened the door. His boy stood on his tiptoes to flip on the overhead light.
“Ima be back in a few minutes. Lemme take care of your Ma.”
“’Kay,” CJ answered. “I tired, ‘Law. Ima lay down ‘til you come back.”
“Okay, boy,” Christopher agreed.
“I tired, too, ‘Law,” Rory echoed.
Now wasn’t the time to remind Rory he didn’t have to emulate CJ, who, in turn, was mimicking Christopher. He didn’t want assfucks like Knox and Kendall teasing his boy for the words he used. But correct…ish speech was a lesson for another day.
Once his son and nephew gave him and Megan hugs, Christopher brought his wife to their bedroom and led her to their bed.
He pointed to the edge. “Sit.”
Obediently, she followed his directions. Focusing on what his woman needed, he put one foot in front of the other and headed to the bathroom to find peroxide, cotton balls, and antibiotic ointment for her cuts. He also took a washcloth and ran cold water over it, for her black eye.
“Place this on your eye,” he told her when he returned to their bedroom and handed her the wet cloth.
Without question, she did as she was told.
Sighing, Christopher took her free hand and examined the cuts on her knuckles. Pouring peroxide onto several cotton balls, he dabbed her injuries.
“Ow!” she moaned. “That hurt.”
“I know, baby,” he said gruffly. “When you give a motherfucker a beat down, your hands get as fucked the fuck up as their face. Punch a motherfucker in the mouth, you graze fuckin’ sharp ass teeth. Hit a assfuck in the nose, you hit fuckin’ cartilage. Shit ain’t as hard as bone, but, dependin’ on the velocity of your fuckin’ fists, you still injure yourself.”
“You sound like an expert on fist fights,” she said with a small smile.
“I had my fuckin’ fair share,” he admitted, leaning forward to kiss the top of her head. He drew in a deep breath and focused on tending to her injuries, not on her scent, her nearness. “You okay, Megan?” he finally asked.
“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Her lower lip trembled, then she sucked in a breath, and anger transformed her features. “I cannot believe Kendall.” She shook her head. “No, I can’t believe me. I gave her the benefit of the doubt so many times, Christopher. I sided with her over you. I’ll never forgive Kendall. Never. I don’t ever want to see her again.”
On the last word, her voice broke.
“We are…we were family,” she sobbed. “How could she do this to us? To CJ? To Johnnie?”
“Cuz she a conscienceless cunt, baby. She don’t see people. She see steppin’ stones.” Abandoning his triage, he sat next to her, put an arm around her shoulder, and hugged her close. “This a valuable lesson, Megan. I been tellin’ you to leave that bitch the fuck alone, but you wasn’t ready. I shoulda backed the fuck off and trusted you was gonna get to a fuckin’ point where you had e-fuckin-nuff. It’s just that you hurt now and I don’t never want you in pain.”
“You can’t protect me from everything. Life is a learning experience. That’s the only way we grow and become better.”
Christopher nodded and dragged her onto his lap, resting his chin on the crown of her head. He grunted and covered the jolt of cock-and-ball pain with a forced smile. “What the fuck you mean when you told me I already fuckin’ messed with the business of my cock?”
Did she know what he’d done?
“We were…are…were, um, there’s an argument going on between us. I didn’t think we’d make love tonight. That’s what I meant. Why what did you think I meant? What else is going on?”
He’d sworn to Megan that he’d never lie to her. He could always not tell her something, but, for the most part, if she asked him a direct question, he’d answer her honestly. There were some exceptions to this rule, as in Traveler and Dinah’s deaths, but that was about it.
As proud and as gleeful as he was that Megan had fucked up Kendall, he knew, too, a certain innocence had been lost within her. She might become less trusting.
Less forgiving.
He also had th
e sin of meeting Emily without Megan’s knowledge to live with. Kendall was on her No-Kill list. He’d promised he wouldn’t kill her. He’d also sworn never to hide any meetings he had with other women. Fuck, but he was batting a fucking thousand.
In comparison, his procedure seemed inconsequential.
“I got my dick snip flipped,” he confessed.
She was quiet for a moment. “You got the vasectomy reversal?”
“Yeah, Megan. Yesterday. I ain’t sure I was gonna tell you, so I let our disagreements get the fuck outta hand.”
The washcloth slipped down as her hand went slack and mutiny gathered in her one punched-up blue eye; the other motherfucker was red from her crying. “You would’ve just let me end up pregnant and think your vasectomy failed?” she asked, appalled.
“Not at fuckin’ first,” he said quickly. “Then you threw me a fuckin’ curve when you told my ass you ain’t want no more lil’ motherfuckers.”
She heaved in a breath, then cocked her head to the side, her anger leaving her. “Do you really want us to have another baby that bad?”
He picked up on the hopeful note in her tone.
“Do it matter?” he asked cautiously. “Ain’t you said you ain’t want no more babies cuz you were in shape and shit?”
“That’s what I’d been trying to talk to you about this morning, when you got up and walked away,” she said in a hurt tone.
“I ain’t able to fuck you for two fuckin’ weeks, but I fuckin’ figured in five or six days, my cock and balls woulda looked normal a-fuckin-gain, so we coulda made up.”
“You only want to control my movements, or do you truly want us to have a bigger family?”
They definitely didn’t need more children. But she probably wouldn’t like that answer and he’d do whatever to protect her. If that meant manipulating the situation, so be it.
Tipping her chin up, he brushed his lips over hers, ignoring the dried blood.
“You love lil babies, Megan. I ain’t ever shoulda took that away from you, baby.”
Her unfucked eye lit up, while the blackened motherfucker swelled a little more. “I thought long and hard about this, last night. When you brought up another pregnancy, you shocked me. Then, I realized how happy I was at the thought of carrying another baby by you. How many more do you want?”
What the fuck did she mean? One more wouldn’t be enough?
He cleared his throat. “How many more you want?”
“Three,” she said breathlessly.
What the motherfuck? “You want eight fuckin’ kids?”
She nodded. “Then I’ll get back on birth control.”
He’d cross that bridge when he came to it. Right now, he had to get their sixth kid in her. Until then, Christopher wouldn’t rest easy. At least, though, they were on the right fucking road and on the same fucking page.
Now that he had Megan’s consent, it was of the ut-fucking-most importance to stay on track for Roxanne and Bailey’s fucking ceremony.
Well, fuck. Did that fucking mean he’d have to hold off on his plans for psycho cunt?
Ex-fuckin-scuse me. Beat-the-fuck-up psycho cunt.
No. Fuck no. Just fucking NO! The quicker he got rid of that bitch the better. Delaying shit would derail the plans; going forward with his plans would ensure smooth sailing right to the fucking altar and Wilcunt.
Megan hugged him, recapturing his attention. “I love you so much.”
He wrapped his arms around her and nosed her hair. “I love you, too, Megan. More than my own fuckin’ life.”
If she wanted three more babies, he’d just have to find a fucking way to make their house bigger. As long as his woman was happy and safe, he’d be fine.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Early the next morning, Knox banged on the front door of Mortician and Bailey’s house, purposely bypassing the bell. He wanted to break down the fucking door. The asshat had guards on the path that led to Roxy’s little house. Knox spent the entire night seething. At Mortician’s dictates. At the return of Roxanne’s indifference and his own disappointment when he’d realized there wasn’t an assignation planned. His combined emotions made sleep impossible, though Mortician’s orders riled him the most. Well, it would stop today! If Megan Caldwell finally grew a spine and stood up to Kendall, then Knox could surely do the same with Mortician, Outlaw, and whichever other imbecile gave him guff.
Throwing the door open, Mortician glared at Knox, not inviting him into the warmth of the house.
“It’s six o’clock in the fucking morning, Knox. What the fuck do you want?”
“I want my woman,” Knox stated with cool firmness. “And I intend to take her. You aren’t stopping me, so call your goons off.”
Mortician stepped outside, closing the door to just a small gap. In his bare feet, he only wore jeans, but he seemed unaffected by the cold.
“Make me, motherfucker,” he said, so close to Knox’s face that their noses almost touched.
Holding firm, Knox stiffened his shoulders. “This is ridiculous. You’re treating Roxanne as if she’s a little virgin from the 1950s. Well, she’s far from it, and you’re not keeping me away from her a moment longer.”
Mortician’s eyes flared in surprise and Knox puffed out his chest. Mortician was going to back off and give in to the inevitable.
“Okay, have it your way,” Mortician conceded. “On one condition.”
Knox rolled his eyes. Did Mortician really think to outsmart him again? For curiosity’s sake, Knox would go along with this silly game. “Name it and it’s yours, if it’ll bring this ridiculous moratorium to an end.”
“I’ll escort you to Roxanne, this fucking minute, and let you move back in, if you confess to the bullshit about proposing to her, fucking her, and then walking away because you really don’t want to marry her.”
Knox’s mouth fell open and he released a pathetic squeak. “What good would that do? Besides, I didn’t say those exact words.”
“You said something to that effect, motherfucker. You also said she showed her ignorance by driving the purple Navigator that was a present from another motherfucker.”
Mortician really felt as if he was protecting Roxanne because he didn’t trust Knox’s intentions. If it wasn’t so goddamn interfering, it might be a little endearing that a big, bad motorcycle man protected his wife’s mother so fiercely. “I didn’t mean what I said, Mortician! How many fucking times do I have to repeat myself so you’ll understand the meaning of my words? You people pissed me the fuck off. How did you expect me to respond?”
“By acting like you had a little fucking respect for your head being in one piece. ‘Cause, you know, I almost blew it the fuck off.”
“I didn’t mean—”
Mortician raised his hand and indicated silence. “You meant every word, Knox. Know how I know? You the motherfucker that said your parents wouldn’t be happy if you married Roxy. Look how your momma treating her? And we all know how much you hate her purple car. The fact that Outlaw gave it to her make it that much more unbearable. So, yeah, Knox, you meant all of what you said.”
Knox lifted his hands in supplication. “I swear…I swear,” he started in desperation, “I didn’t. I love her so much. I can’t wait to marry her. There’s no way I can tell her what I said.”
“You know that shit won’t go over well with her.”
“And so do you. You want to sabotage our relationship.”
“No. I want you to be fair and honest with her. I want her to know you man enough to own up to your shittiness. I want you to apologize to her for even thinking that disrespectful bullshit.”
“There’s nothing for me to apologize to her for. You’re being ridiculous.” A thought popped into his head. “I’ll pay you. What do you want? A million dollars? Two? Three? I’ll go as high as five.”
“Just what the fuck you paying me for? To let you move back in with her or to shut the fuck up about your bitch-ass words?”
“I d
on’t know.” Knox thrust a hand through his hair. “Either. Both.”
“First off? You don’t know shit about me. I don’t need your fucking money. Second, even if I did, no money in the world enough for me to turn away from protecting Roxanne. I value her well-being over some bitch-ass blood money.”
“A little gung-ho, aren’t you?” Knox sneered, losing his patience. “What man in your position wouldn’t want five million dollars? Whether it’s for silence or cooperation, the point is moot. It’s still five million dollars.”
“Can’t miss your money if I never had it. But, in case you don’t realize it, I don’t need your goddamn money. I got my own.”
At that statement, Knox laughed. “A pittance compared to what I’m offering, I’m sure.”
Mortician threw him a nasty grin. “As much as I want to break every bone in your face, the way you itching for me to do, I’m not. Go back to the club, Knox. I don’t trust you anymore than you trust me. Therefore, you and her still being chaperoned.” He backed into his house. “See you at the club.”
Before Knox had a chance to respond, Mortician slammed the door in his face.
Knox slammed his hand against the door. “You’re an asshole!” he yelled.
If Mortician heard, he gave no indication because Knox received no answer.
Kicking the door one last time, Knox growled, turned on his heel, and stormed back toward the club. For now, he was thwarted, but he was determined to find a way back into Roxanne’s arms before the wedding.
Before, this chaperoning had been an annoying nuisance. Now, it was a matter of pride and principle.
“Psst.”
The loud sound stopped Knox in his tracks, just as Roxy hoped. It was still dark outside, but the lights interspersed amongst the trees assisted her in tracking his progress.
She glanced over her shoulder, to make sure she was still alone. Mortician had all kinds of fucking tricks up his sleeve.
Knox stood within a beam of artificial light. It glinted off his blond hair and revealed his frustration in the tight lines on his handsome face. He hadn’t spotted her yet, so he turned and started to storm away again.
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