An Outlaw Valentine

by Kathryn Kelly

  Christopher tasted his beer again. “You and Johnnie was to-fuckin-gether?”

  “Yeah, Prez.”

  “All fuckin’ day?” Christopher pressed.

  Mort opened his mouth, then shut it again.

  “Think fuckin’ careful, Mortician,” Christopher warned. “Ain’t gonna wanna blow you the fuck away, so give me the real fuckin’ story.”

  Mort gave the smallest wince. But he shut the fuck up.

  Finishing his beer, Christopher dug in his pocket for a smoke. Once he lit it and took a drag, he held it between his two fingers. He’d help Mort along. “Aintcha went to Portland to drop the fuck in on that lil’ motherfucker who owed us the ten Gs?”

  Mortician nodded and lit his own cigarette.

  “How that went?”

  “Fine, Prez.”

  “John Boy musta got back from Long Beach sooner than I fuckin’ thought. He fuckin’ told me he was gonna spend the whole day there.”

  “I’m not too sure,” Mortician answered calmly. Smoke curled around his face. He looked away from Christopher then focused on him again. “I don’t keep up with Johnnie schedule.”

  Christopher nodded. Jamming the cigarette in the corner of his mouth, he got his cellphone, sent texts to Johnnie, Val, Digger, Cash, and Stretch, for them to get to the house AFSAFP, then pulled up the camera feed. Once he logged in, he went to recordings and opened up the screen, calling up footage from the last eight hours.

  It would’ve been easier doing the review in the security room. There wouldn’t have been as many apps to open. He merely would’ve had to tap into whichever camera he needed the footage from and reviewed what he wanted to see. His phone called for extra security. If it ever fell into the wrong hands, he didn’t want motherfuckers to have easy access.

  However, he’d do it this way. Perhaps, there’d be footage stored on his phone that was no longer on the main system.

  Except he was shit out of luck. Mortician—all of them—knew how the system worked. Stretch had created state-of-the-art surveillance programs. Recordings could be wiped away from the entire system if users knew the pass code and chose that option. Such a deletion had to be done from the security room.

  Something his boys had access to, because he trusted them to keep Megan safe.

  He went through screen after screen, looking for evidence, only to find it gone. Large chunks of time were missing. Even cameras from the club and the outside ones that followed the pathway to his house had hours unaccounted for.

  That meant, Christopher couldn’t track a motherfucker’s journey from the club to his house.

  He threw his phone down, sucked on his cigarette, then went to Mortician and stood next to him. Not speaking. Not threatening. Just fucking staring. Glaring. Warning him, without words, he was fucking with his life.

  Mortician’s jaw tightened. Same reaction he’d had since Christopher arrived. If the motherfucker wasn’t careful, his bones would lock the fuck up.

  “Fuck, you too, Mort?” Val called as he walked in from the direction of the mud room. “Johnnie look like he walked into the same fucking fist you did. To top it off, motherfucker all scratched up. Like he got into a fight with a cat.”

  “Prez,” Digger said, following Val in, ignoring Christopher’s growl upon hearing the RC’s words, “me and Bunny just about to leave. Can’t this wait until tomorrow? My woman going to give me pussy on the bike.”

  “What’s this all about, Outlaw?” Cash asked, right on Digger’s heels. He caught sight of Mortician and his eyes widened. “Is this beat-a-motherfucker day?”

  “Afternoon,” Stretch said, stepping beside Cash.

  “Where my cookies?” Digger asked, frowning in the spot where the cannisters should’ve been. “Meggie keep Oreos in one of those little jars. Fuck, man. Can I leave for real now? This is going to be a shitty evening if I can’t have cookies or bike pussy.”

  “Outlaw?” Val said. “You not talking. Everything okay?”

  “Where Johnnie?” Christopher managed to ask.

  Silence descended as they all looked amongst themselves.

  “I’m here, Christopher,” Johnnie finally called, stepping into the kitchen. He stopped on the other side of the island.

  Christopher took in Johnnie’s face, more battered and bruised than Mort’s. Deep scratches ran down both cheeks. Christopher’s insides froze. Any brotherly love, family connection, or friendly bond they had exploded into nothingness.

  He was so fucking angry, he actually shook. Before he could shoot the fuck out of Johnnie, Megan rushed in. When they’d accessed the gate, she must’ve gotten an alert on her phone.

  He searched his brain. He’d gotten an alert about three hours ago, but he’d ignored it. During the day, he was so used to Zoann, Kendall, Bunny, or Roxanne coming and going, he’d slacked up and stopped keeping track of her every move.

  “What the fuck?” Val gasped, as he caught sight of Megan’s neck.

  Almost all of them had the same reaction—shock. Except Johnnie. Regret filled his eyes.

  “MegAnn, c’mon back,” CJ demanded.

  “I’m fine, CJ,” she said quietly, looking anything but fucking fine.

  “Megan,” Christopher started, his voice so cold he barely recognized it himself. “I fuckin’ looked up to Big Joe like he was my old man. I loved that motherfucker.”

  “I know,” she whispered, her lips beginning to tremble.

  Did she know where he was going with this? He’d bet she did, because she knew him so well.

  “CeeCee was my old man,” he continued. “Ain’t had no fuckin’ love lost, but he was still my fuckin’ blood.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, blinking away the tears in her eyes.

  “This motherfucker,” he went on, pointing to Johnnie with a trembling finger, wishing bullets would fire from his hand to blow that motherfucker apart, “fuckin’ worshipped Logan, but put him the fuck down like the motherfuckin’ miserable dog he fuckin’ was.”

  “Christopher—”

  “Shut the fuck up, Megan,” he snarled. “Don’t fuckin’ tell me this motherfucker ain’t fuckin’ strangled you cuz I know he fuckin’ did. Too much shit ain’t fuckin’ addin’ up for this to be a fuckin’ stranger.”

  Christopher unholstered his nine, aimed it at Johnnie’s head, then turned it to Mort before going back to Johnnie, not knowing who the fuck he wanted to shoot first. Johnnie for the crime or Mort for the cover-up.

  “Fuck, man,” Mortician said under his breath.

  “You’ve got it all wrong,” Megan cried, inserting herself in front of Mort but leaving Johnnie on his own.

  That spoke more than Megan would ever fucking know. She adored Mort, but she loved Johnnie. She didn’t want anything to happen to him.

  “Tell me how the fuck it be wrong?” he demanded.

  “Dad?” CJ asked, his eyes wide. In five months, his boy would be six. He was still too young to understand real violence and retribution. Normally, Christopher tried to shield CJ, but he couldn’t see anything but the bruises around Megan’s neck.

  He couldn’t feel anything but betrayal.

  “I trusted you, motherfucker,” he snarled to Johnnie.

  “Christopher!” Megan cried, not moving away from Mortician.

  “Get the fuck outta here,” Christopher ordered. “Take CJ with you.”

  “No!” she said stubbornly. “I’m not leaving for you to shoot Johnnie and Mortician for absolutely no reason.”

  “No fuckin’ reason?” he yelled. “All the fuck I gotta do is look atcha fuckin’ neck and that’s my fuckin’ reason.”

  “We told you what happened,” she insisted.

  “No, Megan, Mort gave me some bullshit fuckin’ story that don’t even fuckin’ make no sense.”

  “Christopher, please,” she sobbed. “Don’t do this. Even if Johnnie did something to me, he’s your brother. You grew up with him. You’ve protected him your entire life. How’d you feel if one day you woke
up and realized you killed him for nothing? You’d never forgive yourself. Besides, what reason would Johnnie have to hurt me?”

  “The fact that I choked the fuck outta his cunt of a wife,” Christopher snarled. “All this shit gonna make me do is fuck her up, too.”

  Johnnie’s eyes frosted. “So my wife’s a cunt, who’s expendable, but your’s an angel, who’s untouchable?”

  “If I was you, Johnnie, I’d shut the fuck up,” Digger offered, eating something. Who the fuck knew what it was.

  “Christopher, listen to me,” Megan begged. “Johnnie didn’t hurt me, but don’t you think he would’ve been justified. You tried to hurt Kendall. His wife.”

  “So he fuckin’ used you to seek retribution,” Christopher guessed, his head buzzing. He waited for her to slip up and agree but she knew his tactics now.

  “He didn’t use me for anything.”

  “You lyin’ to me. I love the fuck outta you cuz you lyin’ to protect me.”

  “I’m not lying,” she whispered around tears.

  “Where the footage where I can fuckin’ prove the story? Lemme see what the fuck happened and he off the hook.”

  “There’s no footage from your bedroom,’ Johnnie pointed out. “You have no cameras in there.”

  The sound of Johnnie’s voice enraged him so much that he fired. But Megan, sensing his actions, moved quick, and knocked his hand away. It was the second time in a few months she’d stopped him from fucking up a stupid motherfucker.

  In October, Christopher had gone to Denver to take care of Sloane Mason’s brother for crimes against the club and Sloane. Kiln had ended up insulting Megan. If she hadn’t been there, Christopher would’ve shot the fuck out of him.

  “Christopher, please, stop!” Megan cried. “Think of his children. Rory, Matilda, and JJ. They need him. Kendall needs him.”

  Johnnie had lost all color. The shock in his eyes told Christopher he hadn’t thought the day would ever come when Christopher would truly try to kill him.

  “CJ, Rebel, Rule, Ryder, and Ransom need you. I fuckin’ need you.”

  “Christopher, you’ve got this all wrong,” she insisted. “Mortician and…and J-Johnnie s-saved me. If you k-kill Mortician—or J-Johnnie—you’ll be making a mistake. Punishing the men who protected me. Y-you should reward them, not kill them.”

  “Gimme a fuckin’ description of the motherfucker who broke in,” he told her.

  “A d-description?” she echoed.

  “Yeah! How the motherfucker look? Since these two assfucks decided to fuckin’ fight the motherfucker instead of puttin’ him to fuckin’ ground. Re-fuckin-mind me why that shit happen again?”

  “The intruder had a gun, Christopher, “ Johnnie said coolly. “He had Megan in his sight. He released one round and we tackled him. Somehow, he overpowered us and got away. We were trying to keep Megan safe.”

  “Motherfucker, you a ace shot. You coulda fuckin’ fucked him up and not got a fuckin’ scratch on my woman.”

  “I didn’t want to risk it,” Johnnie insisted.

  “Swear to me Johnnie ain’t put his fuckin’ hands on you, Megan.”

  Megan bowed her head and wept. Christopher knew she wouldn’t say those words because she couldn’t.

  “Mommie!” CJ whined, running to her and hugging her waist. “Don’t cry,” he sniffled, then gave Christopher the side eye. “’Law, stop being mean to Mommie,” he ordered, and hiccupped.

  “Get outta here, boy,” Christopher ordered.

  Releasing his ma, CJ faced him. “Stop being mean to her, assfuck.” Without warning, he kicked Christopher in the shin, ignoring his yelp and continuing his tirade. “Mudna fucker. Asshole. Fuckhead. Meanie,” he yelled, kicking Christopher again and a final time for good measure that had him hopping around like a fucking dickhead. “Leave my mommie alone before I make you bleed, fuckbag.”

  “Fuckbag?” Mortician, Val, and Digger echoed while Christopher got his bearings.

  Yeah, fuckbag was new to all of them. Leave it to his boy.

  CJ positioned himself in front of Megan and met Christopher’s eyes. “Step away from the mommie.”

  Wincing, Christopher limped closer. “Boy, if you wasn’t pro-fuckin-tectin your Ma, I’d beat your lil’ fuckin’ ass for hittin’ me and callin’ me outta my goddamn name,” he growled.

  “Leave MegAnn alone, ‘Law. That’s my mommie.”

  “And that’s my fuckin’ wife, boy. Without me, there wouldna been a you. I’m your fuckin’ old man. You gonna listen to me and respect me or you sufferin’ the consequences,” he growled forcefully.

  CJ blinked. His bottom lip poked out and trembled. “You mean, ‘Law.”

  “My ass might be fuckin’ mean, but you a fuckin’ kid, and I ain’t gonna have you walkin’ the fuck ‘round here callin’ me names and kickin’ my motherfuckin’ ass.”

  “You was mean to Mommie,” CJ told him.

  Christopher scrubbed a hand over his face. To CJ, hearing Christopher raise his voice to Megan, when she was already clearly upset, must’ve come across as fucked up. But everything about the current situation was fucked up. He trusted Johnnie, Mortician…fuck, all of them…and they’d betrayed him.

  No matter what they said, it wasn’t a fucking coincidence that Megan got the fuck choked out of her on the same day as Kendall. He had to handle one goddamn situation at a time. In the scheme of things, CJ turning him into a kicking bag wasn’t as important as dealing with Johnnie.

  “You and me talkin’ later, boy,” he told his son. “After I get through with Uncle Johnnie.”

  As if she’d been waiting for a cue, Megan knelt down and drew their boy into her arms then raised a pleading gaze to him. “Christopher, if-if you k-kill J-Johnnie be-because of me, I’ll n-never, n-n-never forgive myself.”

  “I would be the motherfucker killin’ the motherfucker. Why the fuck ain’t you say you ain’t forgivin’ me, baby. Me shootin’ his cock off, stuffin’ it in his mouth, cuttin’ his fuckin’ fingers off, then blowin’ his fuckin’ head away ain’t got fuck all to do with a fuckin’ decision you made. Hate me. Not you.”

  “I love you, Christopher,” she said tearfully. “I could never hate you. But…but…but y-you’re wrong. It would be because of me that you killed your own brother.”

  “Fuck him being my brother. You my woman. You mine,” he said viciously. “And a motherfucker hurt you, hurt me, and I fuck them up.”

  “Dad, no, please,” CJ cried, sounding like the small child he was.

  “Christopher, please,” Megan begged. “I’d never forgive myself. Please. You’ve got it all wrong.”

  Swallowing his bitter betrayal, Christopher studied his wife and son, clinging to each other and looking at him to control himself. He couldn’t shoot Johnnie. Despite the instinct telling him Johnnie had gone after Megan as retribution for Kendall.

  Megan trusted Christopher to control his murderous rage and his boy looked up to him. He knew, deep down in his bones, that this was a fucking cover-up, but he had no proof. Megan would deny it until she took her last breath.

  Mort would back Megan up because he believed he was doing the right thing. By protecting her, he protected Christopher.

  Johnnie wouldn’t confess. He knew he’d get his motherfucking tongue cut out of his head. More than anything, what stayed Christopher’s hand and made him drop his piece, was knowing Megan would blame herself. He wouldn’t allow that.

  The question was how should he handle this? Without indisputable evidence, his hands were tied. Besides, he could almost admire Johnnie’s defense of Kendall—if he hadn’t fucked with Megan.

  Christopher gritted his teeth. Before he could process his thoughts any further, Megan and CJ barreled into him. CJ hugged his legs, while Megan wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest.

  The pounding of her heart beat strong and hard against his body. He clung to her, his eyes closed, his head playing mind games with him.

  �
��I love you so fuckin’ much, Megan,” he whispered. “You my everything, baby. My every-fuckin-thing.”

  “I know,” she whispered, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his mouth. “And you’re my entire world, Christopher. I’m fine. I’m alive. I fought and scratched and kicked, and then Mortician got here.” She stilled as he went rigid. “J-Johnnie, too,” she added faintly.

  Christopher threw Johnnie a glower, promising a brutal and violent death. Megan had fucking slipped. Caught up in her emotion, she’d told him, in her own fucking way, just what the fuck had happened. But his hands were fucking tied.

  He offered Johnnie a cold smile. “Next time Kendall fuck with me, she a dead bitch,” he swore. “And you ain’t gonna be far behind her, motherfucker. Megan got you off this time, but I’m waitin’ for a fuckin’ chance to blow you and your bitch the fuck away. Hear me? And knowin’ that cunt? You ain’t too fuckin’ long for this motherfuckin’ earth.”

  With one last glower at all of them, he lifted CJ into his arms, grabbed Megan’s hand and walked the fuck out.

  Her throat throbbed with pain, but Meggie refused to acknowledge her suffering. She didn’t want to set Christopher off again. Or, worse, slip up as she had when she mentioned Mortician and forgot about Johnnie.

  She sat on the edge of the bed, next to her son, watching as her husband inspected the bullet hole, the messy bed, and the disturbed pillows. Every now and then, he’d throw her an evil glare before returning to his inspection.

  If she talked, her throat would hurt worse and her hoarseness would only serve as a reminder. If she remained silent, Christopher’s mind would run a thousand miles a minute and reach conclusions she’d prefer to have ignored.

  After fifteen minutes of scrutinizing their bedroom, Christopher sat next to CJ, put his elbows on his knees and hung his head.

  “Why don’t we all take a nap?” Meggie suggested, mainly for CJ’s sake. He’d had a very disturbing afternoon. If she cuddled him, he’d rest easier. However, if Christopher didn’t join them that would leave him free to think. And act. “I’m so tired.”