It didn’t matter that Megan was now sobbing. Her tears only enraged him more. They were real. Unlike Kendall, who used tears like she did sex. As a weapon.
In a blind rage, he swiped all her containers off her kitchen island, eliciting another sob-scream from her. She filled Christopher’s house with love and happiness. Made it a place of warmth and joy.
Kendall had issues, and Johnnie would give his life to help her through them. But dying for bullshit? No. Just fuck no.
“Christopher has cameras everywhere, Johnnie,” Megan said around sniffles. “You’re going to die because of your stupidity, not because of anything Kendall is doing.”
At her announcement, he stilled. His mind spun a million miles a minute. One part of him recalled his time with Megan—his feelings for her. Just as fast came memories of Kendall.
Maybe, it was a losing battle. Maybe, he never should’ve married her. Defeated, he sat, landing flat on his ass since he wasn’t remotely close to a chair. Hanging his head in his hands, he felt as if his entire world was ending.
Valentine’s Day was six weeks away. He should’ve been planning a romantic getaway to celebrate their five years of knowing each other. Instead, he was questioning his value. His worthiness.
His manhood.
“You crossed a line today, Johnnie,” Megan said in a quiet, miserable voice. “You called me a cunt.”
“And?” he raged. “Christopher calls my woman a cunt all the time. You’re not better than her. Do you ever tell him not to call Kendall that?”
“I’m going upstairs,” Megan said tiredly, ignoring his question. Of course she would. She didn’t have a fucking satisfactory answer. “Leave. Stay. Die. I don’t care.”
“Do you know how much I hate you?” he asked in a broken voice.
“I don’t care. Your feelings for me aren’t important. Only Christopher’s matter.”
She left him alone on her kitchen floor, her words ringing in his ears.
Reaching her bedroom, Meggie slammed the door shut and stumbled to the bed. She sat on the edge and stared, her mind surfing from her encounter to Johnnie to blankness and, finally, to the reality of the situation.
Johnnie was going to die. Christopher would kill him. Even if he hadn’t shook Meggie and called her a cunt, he’d walked in uninvited and seen her naked, then refused to immediately turn away.
“Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!” Meggie wailed, jumping from the bed and pacing. Nausea churned in her stomach. No matter what, Christopher would never forgive himself if he shot Johnnie, once the dust settled.
They were brothers, even if she and Kendall had created an almost irreparable rift between them. As much as Meggie and Christopher loved each other—trusted each other—they still had bouts of doubt and insecurity where Johnnie and Kendall were concerned.
Her husband despised the ground Kendall walked on. Yet Kendall was relentless in her quest. Meggie pretended not to notice the looks Kendall gave Christopher. She ignored Kendall’s untoward comments.
Johnnie, however, was another story. As much as Johnnie envied Christopher’s charisma, his charm and magnetism, her husband always felt…insecure…?...about the holiday season Meggie and Johnnie spent together.
Balling her fists, Meggie paced a little more, her thoughts jumbled and confused. On the one hand, she wanted to never, ever forgive him or look at him again. On the flip side, she knew her brother-in-law was close to a mental break down. All because Kendall was restless.
Meggie drew in a deep, calming breath, willing herself to stop shaking and crying. This was so bad. Worse, she had no clue where Christopher was or what had held him up. She was grateful, but he could walk in at any minute and find her wrecked. And CJ would soon be home from school. And Bunny would soon bring the rest of the kids home. And Meggie needed to start dinner.
She rushed to her side of the bed, picked up her cell phone, and saw four missed calls from Christopher. Chewing her lip, she pressed redial.
“Where the fuck you been, baby?”
The sound of his voice soothed her and she drew in a deep breath.
“Megan? What the fuck wrong?”
She cleared her throat. “Nothing.” Tears thickened her voice, made her hoarse.
“You been fucking cryin’?”
“I just…uh…I just…” Closing her eyes, she sighed, drawing in deep, calming breaths. “It’s nothing. Just watching a sad movie, waiting for you,” she lied.
Silence.
She cringed. This wasn’t going the way it was supposed to, so she cleared her throat again. “Where are you?” she asked in a stronger voice.
“My ass got fuckin’ held up at the club. First, psycho bitch inter-fuckin-rupted me. Then, I got fuckin’ distracted when I re-fuckin-membered Valentine Day comin’ up.”
Yes, Valentine’s Day, when she wanted to host a ball to celebrate both the day and commemorate their church wedding, which had been such a big deal to her. For the past few days, she’d gone back and forth on whether or not to talk to Christopher about renewing their vows. Only this time, she’d tell him he was free to be him. Wear his cut and boots. Even jeans if he wanted to, because that’s who he was, and it was his day, too.
This morning, Kendall had stopped by for coffee, so Meggie put aside their last argument and mentioned the ball again. She didn’t tell her sister-in-law about club issues. Whatever Christopher told Meggie, he did so in confidence. If Johnnie wanted Kendall to know, he’d tell her himself. But it was hard to gauge the best decision to make.
Christopher hadn’t mentioned lockdown, or problems with another club, again. Meggie felt if he thought she’d need to go on lockdown, he would warn her so she could start preparing.
“I strapped a fuckin’ stick of dynamite to my cock and blew it the fuck up.”
Meggie frowned at Christopher’s statement. “Huh?”
“Exactly, Megan,” he shouted. “What the fuck goin’ on? My ass been fuckin’ talkin’ for two fuckin’ minutes and ain’t heard a motherfuckin’ peep from you.”
“I was thinking about Valentine’s Day,” she said.
“What the fuck ‘bout it?” he grouched.
“Well, I want us to renew our vows,” she rushed out. “Have a huge Valentine’s Day Ball.”
“Ain’t no fuckin’ way my ass wearin’ a fuckin’ monkey suit, Megan.”
She smiled at his irritation, her world slowly righting itself again. “Although I’d love for you to, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“What the fuck you say?”
Her grin deepened at how perplexed he sounded. “It’s your day, too. That’s why I want us to do the renewal at the Valentine’s Day Ball. You can wear whatever you want. I love you for who you are, not because you’re in a silly, old tux. I just…there’s so much I want to say to you. So much I want the world to know. All I ask is that we write our own vows.”
“For real, baby?” he croaked.
“Yes.”
More silence and then, “Megan, baby, Kendall knew ‘bout this?”
The question surprised her. Yet, she didn’t think she’d recovered enough from her encounter with Johnnie to ask him what Kendall had to do with anything. “Yes. We talked this morning.”
“Fuckin’ motherfuckin’ fuckin’ cunt,” he growled and blew out an irritated breath.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, wincing when Christopher called Kendall the same name Johnnie had bestowed on her. Unless Christopher stopped saying it—and he wouldn’t—Meggie had no right to be so hypocritical. “What happened?”
“Nothin’, baby. Motherfuckin’ Kendall at her fuckin’ games again. Ima tell you all the fuck ‘bout it in a lil’ while. I gotta take care of some shit first. Ima see you in ‘bout a hour.”
“Wait! What were you thinking about Valentine’s Day? Maybe, we can combine our plans.”
“Fuck, baby. You sure the fuck bring a motherfucker to his fuckin’ knees. Before I met you, Valentine’s Day ain’t meant f
uck all to my ass. Now, it’s everything to me cuz it mean so much to you,” he said gruffly. “My ass gotta be honest with you. Psycho cunt came to my motherfuckin’ office, askin’ ‘bout some case she wanted to fuckin’ take. John Boy already told her dumb ass fuck no. I ain’t got no motherfuckin’ clue why that bitch thought my fuckin’ ass would say ‘yeah’. Johnnie already fuckin’ know he a dead man if that cunt take another case. I ain’t havin’ her fuck with the club. I clued her the fuck in, too. Any-fuckin-way, she fuckin’ told me ‘bout your ball and that you fuckin’ wanted me to wear a monkey suit. So I been sittin’ here over a hour, plannin’ a trip to that lil’ island Digger took Bunny on their honeymoon.”
“Kendall’s a liar!” Meggie snapped, fed up with both Donovans. “How could you believe her?”
“Cuz you put me in monkey suits two or three fuckin’ times al-fuckin-ready, Megan. What the fuck my ass was supposed to believe?”
“You could’ve called and asked me.”
“Megan, this ain’t nothin’ to make a big fuckin’ deal ‘bout. That cunt—”
“Stop calling her that!” Meggie shouted, bursting into tears. “That’s an ugly word. Suppose Johnnie said that to me?”
“Then I’d cut his fuckin’ tongue out, baby,” Christopher said mater-of-factly. “Then watch him bleed the fuck to death.”
She cried harder.
“Megan, baby, what the fuck wrong? My cock fucked over me a-fuckin-gain and knocked you up?”
“No!”
“Why you cryin’? Talk to me. Cuz if you ain’t gonna tell me, my ass just gonna review the footage ‘til I find out the fuckin’ problem.”
“I’m just disappointed in Kendall.” That was true. Kendall was the catalyst for Johnnie’s behavior and, now, for Christopher’s actions. “I really wanted the ball, but since you’ve spent so much time planning a trip for us, we can do that instead.”
“I love the fuck outta you, Megan.”
“And I love you, Christopher.”
“You want the fuckin’ ball?”
“I do, but we can do it some other time. I wasn’t even sure this was a good idea. I know you were having problems with another club and—”
“No, baby. Other motherfuckers ain’t a fuckin’ problem. Don’t even fuckin’ worry ‘bout them. You fuckin’ want a fuckin’ ball for Valentine Day, you havin’ it. Whatcha gonna wear?”
“I want a red evening gown.”
“Then my ass wearin’ a monkey suit, cuz I know that’s what the fuck you want. How ‘bout I just fuckin’ reschedule our trip? We go in July when we celebratin’ our six years bein’ married?”
“We have to be here for CJ’s birthday.”
“We will,” he assured her. “Just lemme make some fuckin’ calls.”
“Okay. I’m going to start dinner, so I’ll see you in a bit. I love you. Bye.”
“Megan?” Christopher called before she disconnected.
“Yes?”
“Ain’t stoppin’ callin’ Kendall a cunt. That’s what the fuck she is. She start all types of shit and don’t take fuckin’ responsibility for nothin’.”
Meggie already knew this. And Christopher had said something similar a few days ago.
“John Boy just a fuckin’ step away from needin’ to go to his own fuckin’ psycho camp. I hate her for what the fuck she do. She the most callous bitch I ever met. What fuckin’ person who say they love a motherfucker gonna come to the motherfucker who threatened to fuck up her motherfucker if she go back to work…and fuckin’ ask to go the fuck back to work? Fuck. She might as well put a bullet in Johnnie head herself.”
She nodded, although Christopher couldn’t see her.
“I love you, baby,” he told her before disconnecting.
Megan wasn’t a good liar. Her greatest fear was Christopher looking at that footage—hearing it—and seeking retribution against Johnnie. If she could stop that, everything else would fall into place later. She dialed Mortician’s number.
“I need your help,” she whispered when he answered.
“On my way,” he said, without asking questions and hung up.
As she set her phone back on her nightstand, a hand touched her shoulder. She almost jumped out of her skin.
“Megan?” Johnnie started.
She stood still, staring at the wildness in Johnnie’s eyes, the burning rage. Right now, Johnnie was dangerous, on edge and at a loss.
He leaned against her, wrapped an arm around her waist and drew his cell phone up. A photo of Kendall, with horrendous bruises on her neck, greeted her.
“Your husband choked my wife,” he said roughly, so close to her ear his breath fanned her hair. “Again. Is it any wonder Kendall rebels and has no respect for me? I can’t protect her. To get back at me, she goes against whatever Christopher tells her to do.”
“She needs to leave Christopher alone.”
“So you’re condoning his actions? Choking my wife?” he gritted, and rubbed a finger down her back. “Suppose I decided to strangle you? Only, I wouldn’t pretend to have morals and stop. I’d kill you.” He sniffed her hair. “He’s your pussy. What’s wrong with me being Kendall’s?”
“You need to calm down,” Meggie said as evenly as possible.
“You’ve suffered a lot on behalf of the club—Christopher—yet you’re still here. Why? What makes you sturdy enough to handle club life but leaves Kendall sad and vulnerable?”
“Johnnie, listen to me. Kendall loves you—”
He spun her around and grabbed her throat, not applying any pressure. “Does she? I love her. More than you or anyone will ever know or believe.”
“I know you love her.”
“Do you?” he asked, almost conversationally, applying the slightest bit of pressure to her neck. He gave her a chilling smile. “You’re like a little doll. It would be so easy for me to crush your windpipe. Snap your neck. Stop torturing my wife with your presence. Bring you down from the untouchable place Christopher has put you. Miss Golden Princess. You’d make such a beautiful corpse.”
“Johnnie, please. Christopher loves you. If he knew you’d gone over the edge like this, it would devastate him.”
He yanked her closer. “Shut up. Christopher loves no one but you. He’d sacrifice his children to save you. Certainly, my wife is expendable to keep you happy. The minute Kendall does something, you whine to him.”
“No!” she said wildly. “I don’t. There’s a lot about our relationship that I keep from Christopher. To keep the peace.”
He stared at her, but she saw nothing of the Johnnie she knew. Anger blazed in his eyes, turning them a molten silver, and giving him a wilder look. He threw her onto the bed and was upon her before she could scramble away. Grabbing her throat, he tightened his hands around her neck, squeezing her throat and trapping the air inside of her lungs.
She wiggled underneath him, kicking her legs in desperation, but didn’t dislodge him. He was a killer, well-practiced in annihilation and cover-ups. Maybe, he wouldn’t leave a trace of her. In case he did, though, she dug her nails in his cheeks and scratched, fighting dizziness and darkness.
“Let her go or die.”
Mortician’s steely voice reached Meggie through the fog in her head. Immediately, Johnnie released her and moved away. As she grabbed her neck and coughed, flesh met flesh.
Her throat aching, Meggie sat up. Mortician had Johnnie in a chokehold and was squeezing the life out of him, a gun to his head.
“Stop!” she screamed. “My God, please, stop.”
Just like that, Mortician released Johnnie and allowed him to drop to the floor, coughing and spluttering. Before Johnnie recovered, Mortician kicked him in the ribs. In turn, Johnnie grabbed Mortician’s ankle and pulled him to the floor, punching him in the mouth.
“Stop! Stop! Stop!” she yelled, to no avail. They were pummeling each other to bloody pulps. If she didn’t do something, one of them would die.
She’d handled a gun one time before,
and saved Christopher’s life. Although she’d only wounded Traveler, she’d stopped his intentions. Spying Mortician’s forgotten gun on the floor, she rushed to it, picked it up and aimed it across the room, squeezing the trigger. The report hurt her ears and plaster sprayed from the wall, but Johnnie and Mortician jumped apart.
The three of them stared at each other. Meggie stood, trembling and gripping the gun, until Mortician snatched the weapon from her and drew her into his arms.
“Meggie, girl, we going to have a fucked up time explaining this scene to Prez. It’s going to break his heart.”
“Megan, I’m so sorry,” Johnnie said from behind Mortician.
“Shut up,” she snarled, yanking away from the club enforcer and barreling to Johnnie, ignoring his bleeding mouth and nose, swollen eyes and scratched cheeks. “Just shut up. You’re nothing but a jerk and a jackass. All the anger you showed to me is misplaced. You need to take it to Kendall. But you can’t because you’re afraid she’ll leave. That isn’t my fault she’s like that. Take it out on her not me. You have something to say to my husband, go to him.” She turned to Mortician. Despite her trembling and tears, she thought fast. “I need you to go to the security room and erase the footage from whenever Johnnie entered the house.”
Mortician blew out a breath. One of his eyes was swelling, and his lips were bloody. “You know what you asking me to do?”
“I know,” she said around sniffles. “But I have to protect my husband. He’d never be the same if he had to kill Johnnie.”
Johnnie released a bitter laugh. “Of course, saving my life is on behalf of Christopher. Not me.”
“Shut the fuck up, son,” Mortician snapped.
“Make me,” Johnnie returned.
Mortician started for him again, but Meggie grabbed his hand. “Ignore him, please. Christopher is going to be home soon. I have to think of something to tell him.”
“You’re going to have to think of a fucking lot,” Mortician pointed out with disgust. “We fucked up. You got a fucking bullet hole in your wall. The kitchen a wreck and your fucking neck has clear fucking fingerprints on it.”
An Outlaw Valentine Page 10