Outlaw scowled at the admission. He stared at what he knew could become his greatest weakness. “This the deal, Megan.” He stood and folded his arms, determined to ignore the outline of her breasts in his shirt. “I got a meetin’ to get to. I’m gonna bring you some food. You take a shower after you eat and get some rest. I’ll see you in the mornin’ and we’ll figure out shit then.”
Megan frowned at him and sneezed. “Are you going to sleep at your house?”
He’d call Ellen so she could meet him at Kiera’s house, then fuck the two of them until his dick punked out. “Nope. Besides, I consider this place my house.”
She hesitated. “Oh,” she said in a small voice as if she knew he’d leave her to go to another woman.
So what if she did? All the better. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He remembered something else he’d noted on her driver’s license when he’d found her backpack and verified her identity.
“Happy belated birthday.”
She smiled at him and, though her lips were cracked and swollen, he swore her look reached out and touched his heart.
“Th-thank you,” she whispered. “That’s why I took the five dollars. I wanted to celebrate with some French fries. Treat myself and try to forget my first birthday alone.”
A girl like her would see birthdays as special. A man like him acknowledged the day with herbs and pussy.
Her coughing reminded him he needed to buy some over-the-counter medicine for her. If she hadn’t improved by tomorrow when he returned, he’d have to suck it up, bring her to the hospital, and hope his sister wouldn’t be on duty.
“Stay in here.”
“Okay.”
A sweet voice to go with a beautiful face. Yeah, he was fucked if he didn’t get his dick in some bitch tonight and get Megan the fuck away from him tomorrow. “We’ll see ‘bout gettin’ you somewhere.”
She swallowed. “Is there anywhere you can send me? I-I mean a place where people know you?”
“My ma but–”
Jesus, the hope in her barely opened eye twisted him up.
“But?” she whispered.
“But I ain’t talked to or saw my ma for ‘bout a year.”
“Why?”
He cracked his knuckles before jerking his head from side-to-side and cracking his neck. “Because I…” His voice trailed off and he clenched his jaw. Because he’d felt tainted, unworthy to be in her presence. He’d broken the Bikers’ Creed, committed the ultimate betrayal, when his patch bound him to always take care of his brothers and their families. Respect them. His mother didn’t know about most of the shit he did, but she did know how he admired one certain man.
“Chris…um–”
He stalked toward the door. “Just stay in this fuckin’ room, Megan,” he snarled over his shoulder, beating a hasty retreat out of the room.
COUGHING RACKED MEGGIE AND she wanted to rest and heed Christopher’s words. Truly, she did. Neither did she want to run into Rack or any of the others who’d been with him that night. But her empty stomach made her desperate. The last time she’d eaten was the soup she’d had the night she met Christopher.
She glanced around, but found no phone or any other way to communicate beyond the walls of this room. She crawled out of bed, grumbling at the awkwardness of the side she slept on being against the wall. Removing herself from bed took work thanks to her stuffy head and achy body.
On her feet, she stood still, allowing the dizziness to recede and the pain to settle into dull throbbing. She hobbled forward, heading toward the door across the room and to the right. Relief sighed through her lips when she realized she’d guessed right and found the bathroom.
After taking care of more basic needs, she forced herself to gaze into the mirror, crying out at the sight of her face and hair. Bruises, swelling, snarls, and tangles. When put together, it equaled the hot mess who stared back at her.
Maybe, she should remain in the room. The next time, Rack might kill her. What did three-day old hunger compare to getting another beating? As if to ridicule her, her belly grumbled and ached.
To do something to take her mind off her hunger pangs, she opted for a shower. She’d always gone for a swim at the creek to forget her wish for food. She peeled off the ridiculously big top and hung it on the hook of the cupboard door. Inside, she found towels. Before stepping into the bathtub and turning on the showerhead, she made sure there was soap and shampoo.
Finding both, she stepped under the warm spray of the shower and let it wash away weeks of dirt that swimming in the creek didn’t. She soaped her body, shampooed her hair and tried to forget the sight of Christopher and how it felt to be in his arms.
He’d left for the night and she didn’t want to consider what that meant. She might’ve retained her virginity by a thread, but she’d been exposed to sex thanks to her friends and her home life. The look in his eyes when he’d said he’d see her in the morning had been the same look Lacey had when the girl she sometimes slept with caught her with the guy she really wanted to be with.
Christopher was going to some woman. Meggie supposed his look had been worry because he didn’t want her to cause any trouble between him and whoever.
The soap and shampoo burned over her cuts. Worse, a bout of coughing and sneezing seized her. She hoped she’d developed a bad cold and not pneumonia. Instead of taking her to a doctor, he’d nursed her himself. While sweet, it meant she lacked proper medical attention.
Her stomach growled.
Or the proper nourishment.
She’d make do. Find something to distract herself. After she finished cleaning herself, she’d go through the CDs she’d seen in Christopher’s room and listen to music. Her plan settled, she turned off the shower and wrung out her hair, pushing the shower curtain aside. She shivered, though she felt as if she’d go up in flames. The cool air hitting her wet skin brought another round of coughing.
Meggie moaned, feeling sicker than a dog. She knew she couldn’t leave her hair uncombed, so, for a time, Meggie focused on her task, detangling it little by little until it curtained her back and shoulders. Then, she parted it down the middle and styled it into two braids. Between the shower and the hairstyling, exhaustion settled into her and she swayed.
She focused on the door on the opposite side of the bedroom, hoping to find a closet since the only other door stood straight ahead and opened to the hallway. Another rush of heat burst through her and she thought she’d erupt into flames at any moment. She’d kill for a glass of water.
Maybe, Christopher sleeping somewhere else was a good thing. She didn’t want him catching whatever she had. She let the towel drop to her feet and fanned herself, licking her dry lips.
The bed seemed so far away. Didn’t horses sleep standing up? Meggie palmed her eyes and scowled. If not horses, some animal did. Maybe, she could, too. Just stop and close her eyes and sink into unconsciousness.
And slip to the ground and conk herself into oblivion.
The door swung open and three men barreled into the room, then came to a screeching halt. Their gazes fell on her and their mouths fell open.
Meggie squeaked, dropping her focus to where the towel lay on the floor. Too much distance. She blinked and, through her hazy heat, recognized Val with his stocky build, bald head, and tear drop tat beneath his eye. The two Black guys with dreads, diamond studs, and light brown eyes, though, she’d never seen.
The shorter one slapped the other’s arm. “Check yourself, fuckhead,” he snapped. “If you don’t stop staring Outlaw going to pluck both your fucking eyes out.”
“He’s staring, Mortician,” the man snapped, pointing to Val.
Meggie swallowed and stumbled back.
“Er, um–”
Her thoughts exactly. She didn’t need to echo Val’s words when he said them with such eloquence.
“I’m Digger,” the tallest one said, the one the man named Mortician slapped. “We came to see ‘bout you.” As he spoke, he concentra
ted on her face or some place over her shoulders. “Outlaw said not to disturb you too much. I wanted to know what you want to eat. My brother, Mortician, wants to show you around the club and keep you company while you out there. And, Val’s riding out for a minute. He wanted to know if you needed something while he was gone.”
She sneezed and saw double. She reached out to balance herself. To her, it seemed as if the men stepped back. “Food would be great,” she got out, somehow staying on her feet. “Something to wear, too. Guiding me to a chair or the bed would be even better.”
“I like breathing, Megan,” Mortician remarked. “I’m not fucking touching you while you naked, girl.”
She opened her mouth to speak, not release the hideous squeak. The room, the faces, whirled around her, mixing with the stars and the fuzziness in her head. The concrete rose to meet her. She reached out and two strong arms caught her, saving her from an indignant fall to the floor.
CHRISTOPHER FROWNED AT THE SOUND of Mortician’s voice coming from his room.
What the fuck?
A pissy mood already possessed him after he’d barreled through the main room feeling the weight of everybody’s stares boring into him. It wasn’t so much him as it was the punk ass shiny balloon with the words ‘happy birthday’ and the ridiculous fucking teddy bear he carried while gripping a grocery bag in the other hand. Thank fuck, his brothers couldn’t see the cupcakes and birthday card inside.
He intended to bring this to Megan, then get the other bags from his pickup—the pair of boots he’d bought her as a gift and all the shit for colds he’d bought at the drugstore.
Reaching his bedroom, he pushed open his door and halted. Closed his eyes. Counted to three. Opened the motherfuckers again. Found the same scene. Two assholes, Val and Digger, staring at Megan naked and in another asshole’s arms. Mortician swallowed and Christopher saw the stupid motherfucker contemplate releasing his hold on her. Yeah, Mortician really thought about letting her fall to the fucking floor—because clearly she wasn’t awake with the way her arm fell like a limp noodle. Even though Christopher intended to break Mortician’s fucking fingers for holding her—continuing to hold her—he’d kneecap the assfuck if he dropped her.
“One of you better fuckin’ start talkin’.”
Surprise turned to shock when they saw what he held. He stopped long enough to set the teddy bear and balloon on his table, then grabbed Megan from Mortician, stalked to his bed and laid her gently down.
Fuck him…he swallowed, his body tightening at the sight of the golden curls between her thighs, her flat belly, her round breasts. Her pigtails hardened him even further, made her look sweet and untouched and vulnerable. Her flushed skin percolated with heat, the smell of his soap and shampoo rising in dry waves from her body. He liked that she smelled like him, but he wanted her to smell like him, his cum, his sweat.
“She has fever,” Mortician said, standing across the room and out of Christopher’s reach. “I caught her on her way to a meeting with the concrete.”
Christopher touched her forehead, ran his knuckles along her lower lip. “How you get in here while she naked?”
Silence. Abso-motherfucking-lutely. He glanced over his shoulder, narrowed his eyes. “I fuckin’ told you, assfuck, to ask her what the fuck she wanna eat and give her my other fuckin’ messages ‘bout these two fuckin’ morons. Seem a big fuckin’ leap between those instructions and what I’m seein’.” He stalked to Mortician. “All I’m sayin’ is some fuckin’ body better start explainin’ or bodies gonna shatter. Ima pause at the cock tip and end with brain matter. Speak,” he roared. “Now.”
“We wasn’t thinking, Outlaw,” Digger started. “We just wanted to tell her who we was and let her know what each of us was here for.”
They exchanged glances. Val drew in a breath and stepped forward, head bowed, all but cowering in submission. If the motherfucker had a tail, it would’ve been tucked between his legs.
Christopher folded his arms.
“We didn’t knock. Not out of disrespect,” Val swore and rolled his shoulders. “We just wasn’t thinking. I was anxious to get the fuck to my bitch and I didn’t want her holding me up, so we just barged in.”
“In my fuckin’ room. Knowin’ she was where? In my fuckin’ room. You fucks did this on purpose.”
Digger shrugged. “Ain’t like the bitch is yours.”
“Yeah,” Val agreed, grabbing onto Digger’s words like a lifeline. “I mean she’s Boss’s daughter.”
Something he wanted to forget. Will away. Find a fucking genie and wish it wasn’t so.
He clenched his jaw and stalked to his drawers, finding a T-shirt for her. He slid it over her head and got her arms through the short sleeves, making sure clothes covered her. His shirt reached her to her knees. He scooped her into his arms.
Whether he liked it or not, Megan had to go to the fucking hospital. He only hoped his sister wasn’t working.
CHRISTOPHER DIDN’T KNOW WHY HE bothered with wishes. The last time one came true was when he was twelve and his mother bought him a skateboard he’d wanted.
Zoann was on duty. Even worse, she was Megan’s ER nurse.
When she stepped into the curtained off space where Megan lay on the gurney, she paused.
“Christopher?” she whispered and rushed into his arms. She was twenty-six, the third of his five sisters. She had big, brown eyes and rich brown hair, a beauty, a bitch, and a bother. Unmarried with no kids, she kept her nose where it didn’t belong.
He barely remembered the man who’d fathered his sisters. Vague instances of care and concern, from an average-sized man with average looks, came to his mind on rare occasions. An encouraging smile. A game of flag football. Bicycle lessons. Like everything good in Christopher’s life, all too soon the man left, while his mother was still pregnant with Ophelia, his youngest sister.
After that, the girls started spending more time with their grandparents, a place where Christopher wasn’t welcomed. No doubt, their grandfather contributed to Zoann’s self-righteous bitchiness.
She pursed her lips and sniffed. “Where’ve you been? Mama–”
“We gonna talk,” he interrupted, not wanting to discuss their mother. “Look after Megan first.”
“Okay,” she said softly. She worked in silence for a few minutes, broken only when she asked about Megan’s illness.
He knew he was in for a grilling. Questions brimmed in Zoann’s eyes. She’d always been nosy and he suspected curiosity kicked the fuck out of her right now.
“And you said you don’t know who assaulted her?”
“Nope. Sure don’t.”
She rocked back on her heels. She didn’t believe him. He didn’t give a fuck. It just reminded him of another reason he hadn’t brought Megan in. She didn’t know the score, so she might blab Rack’s involvement. Not that Rack didn’t need handling, but Christopher wanted to do it his way and after he found out who the fuck else worked with Rack.
He should’ve just left Megan by that creek. Or thrown her the fuck in so she could join the father she searched for. Then, again, maybe no. Boss was burning in hell. Megan deserved a place in heaven.
“Don’t gotta get law enforcement in this,” he warned. “Hear, Zoann?”
Her mouth drew in like she’d sucked a lemon. “I’ll see what I can do, Christopher.”
His ass she would. He narrowed his eyes at her. “Just remind them there’s some lil’ kids in this buildin’ who want that fat fuckin’ bastard in the red suit bringin’ ‘em toys. Last I remembered, my club plunked down a few Gs to get it done.”
She nodded and turned to leave, then stopped and drew in a deep breath. “I have two hours before my shift ends. Would you meet me so we can talk?”
Christopher frowned. “I’m hangin’ ‘round ‘til Megan’s ready to leave.”
“She’s been admitted. Didn’t the doctor tell you?”
“She that bad off?” He glanced at Megan. She looked so fragile.
<
br /> “Yes. She is.”
As much as he hated hospitals, he supposed he was stuck there for a while.
BY THE TIME ZOANN’S SHIFT ended, Megan had been moved to a room, antibiotics dripping into her and oxygen hooked to her while machines measured her blood pressure, pulse, and heart rate. The constant beeping worked Christopher’s last nerve and, more than anything, he needed a smoke.
To him, hospitals ranked up there with being buried alive. It wasn’t for him.
Zoann pushed opened the door and stepped in, letting a moment’s glare in from the bright hallway lights.
He stood as she tipped to the bed and stared at Meggie.
“Are you bringing her home to meet Momma?”
Christopher eyed his sister with wariness. It was always a mistake to take Zoann’s words at face value. “What the fuck you talkin’ ‘bout, Zoann? It ain’t like that between Megan and me.”
Zoann bit her bottom lip. “Then why are you her guarantor? Responsible for paying her bills.”
“Her ma in Seattle, that’s why.”
“Her last name is Foy. Is she related to Big Joe?”
“Jesus, Mary, and all that is fuckin’ holy, you a nosy bitch.” He thrust his fingers through his hair, surprised when her face crumpled. “Fuck, Zoann. Yeah. This Joe girl. She lookin’ for him.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Where is he?”
“Zoann–” He clamped his mouth shut, not wanting to argue with his sister or say words he’d regret.
“You know where he is,” she accused. “I know you do. Big Joe disappeared and you suddenly decided to turn away from us. The two are related. I know they are. It’s your business if you want to throw your life away. But you’ve hurt Momma. Where is he, Christopher? Where have you been?”
“I ain’t needin’ the third fuckin’ degree from you. Club business, club business. Case fuckin’ closed.”
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 8