He stalked into the fresh air, the cold not doing anything to lessen his anger when he thought about his father. Cee Cee, huh? His fucking ass. Sebastian Caldwell. The fuckhead was a rapist and no doubt every other vile thing there was. That’s why Christopher detested the name Caldwell. He’d never wanted Megan stuck with that name.
Fuck him. He’d never wanted her stuck with him. He might not have been a rapist, but he was every other vile thing in the world. She’d hurled her guts out before they’d left Dippin’ Sam’s, then spent most of yesterday unable to do anything but puke and stay in bed, greener than the Jolly Green Giant. And now she wanted him to say vows in a church? Him?
No fucking way could he do that. He was rushing from the fucking meat shack—as it was known amongst him and the boys—to wash away another man’s blood to go sit in front of a judgmental fuck and pretend he wasn’t what he was.
He wanted to kill and he felt sick to his fucking stomach thinking about Megan. Instead of going to the clubhouse, he headed to his Harley. He couldn’t deal with shit right now. He needed a minute to himself.
Fifteen minutes later, he was rolling to a stop in front of the graveyard and he scrubbed a hand over his face. He wasn’t sure which way to go—to his mother or to his mentor. They both had graves here—even though Boss’s was empty. No matter. They’d both loved him. His mother would tell him to let it go. And Boss? Big Joe would tell him to shove a canon up Cee Cee’s ass and blow him the fuck away.
He stood, unable to decide, but admitting to himself he’d run away from Megan. He hadn’t wanted her to see him with all this fucking blood on him. She never interfered in club business, but when worse came to worse and he had to put a motherfucker to ground on premises, he did his usual diverting attention bullshit.
This time, she’d been waiting for him. She would’ve been in their room, smelling like heaven and looking like salvation. Waiting for him. Tending to his son. Planning their wedding. Talking about the decorations for the other rooms in their house.
She was feeling better today and didn’t blame him for the other night. “I’m a big girl, Christopher. I made the decision to smoke that joint and drink the tequila.”
It shamed him to think he hadn’t protected his girl.
He pulled out his smokes and lit one up before entering the gates of the cemetery. He started to his mother’s grave then stopped. Whenever he came, he always brought her flowers. And he didn’t have any. He hoped the gesture let her know how much he loved her. He wasn’t even sure she could see him. Megan said she could, that she’d already met their boy.
Sometimes, Christopher wondered if his mother and Megan’s father had met up somewhere in the afterlife, then decided, no. They probably hadn’t, certain they’d gone in opposite directions—Patricia went northward while Big Joe took the Southbound Express.
He trudged towards Boss’s grave, unable to go to his mother without her flowers. Reaching the black marble obelisk, he grabbed the cigarette from his mouth and released smoke. “Yo’, Prez,” he said quietly. He took another drag, wishing he had a different kind of cigarette. “Am I doin’ the right thing? Listenin’ to Megan? Goin’ along with her church weddin’?” No answer. Not that he expected one. His phone started blasting out Megan’s ringtone. It stopped, then started again. Fuck, what the fuck was he supposed to say to her?
Anything was better than hiding like a pussy.
He let it go to voicemail, then turned off the phone completely. He’d deal with her when he got back to the club.
Stop being a fuckhead, motherfucker. The thought pounded through his head and he cursed, glaring at her father’s obelisk.
The monument sat upon a small rise, the highest point in the cemetery. Since it contained neither body nor casket, it was just a tribute to Joseph Foy for his daughter’s sake and she had no fucking clue she knelt at any empty grave whenever she visited.
Christopher flicked the cigarette away. “Every-fuckin-thing that’s ever been good in my life always goes to shit. Usually in a real bad way.” Like death. Because, really, before Megan and CJ, the only good in his life had been his mother. And he’d gotten her killed.
The man who’d fathered him showing up wasn’t good news. It didn’t take a fucking genius to know that. If he didn’t get the motherfucker contained before the wedding, who the fuck knew what havoc the fuckhead would wreak during the ceremony.
A religious ceremony Christopher had absolutely no business being a part of. Until now, he’d pushed the shit to the back of his mind. Now, with Sebastian Caldwell circling, he couldn’t stand in a church and pledge his soul to an angel when he was nothing but the devil.
Chapter 10
Hats off to women around the world who balance children, parents, outside jobs, and households. Meggie wouldn’t have been able to do it. Without having a career, she had a hard enough time taking care of her son, her husband and her mother while being the female all the other women associated with the Dwellers deferred to, keeping up and helping out with the celebrations at the club, planning her rehearsal dinner and wedding, and decorating the remaining rooms in their house. Cooking, cleaning, and laundry didn’t bear mentioning since that was a given.
So it felt like heaven after she loaded groceries in the car to go in to the little coffee shop and wait for Bunny, one of the old ladies of a Death Dweller who Meggie really liked. Her guard detail was firmly back in place, tailing her everywhere. She understood the necessity, so she didn’t complain. However, when they saw the coffee shop, they frowned.
Meggie sighed. “I’m not going to be long.”
Bin and Shady stared at each other. Somehow, she’d gotten stuck with Bin. At the last minute, Cowboy had bowed out and Bin stepped up to the plate, volunteering to shadow her. Christopher trusted him, so she hadn’t put up a fuss.
Bin took the toothpick from the corner of his mouth and gestured with it. “There’s a bar right down the street. We’re going to hang there until you have your coffee.”
Shady frowned. “Outlaw wants us here.”
“C’mon, Shady. Prez won’t mind. I bet he would do the same thing.”
“No,” Meggie said. After her conversation with Christopher, she wanted Cee Cee caught. Until then, she wouldn’t feel completely safe. “I’d prefer you to stay here with me where Prez ordered you to.”
Bin’s forehead moved, indicating he would’ve lifted a brow—if he’d had any. A chill slithered down Meggie’s spine and she gritted her teeth against her irrational unease toward Bin.
She hadn’t been feeling herself for the past few days. Tiredness wore at her and, last night, a bout of nausea so awful it shocked her she hadn’t vomited. This morning, her head hurt and she felt…off. She also felt studied, like the walls had eyes, which added to her irritation. She didn’t need paranoia and illness to set in now when…when what? Christopher had determined there would be no church wedding and she couldn’t understand why. Every time she thought about it, she wanted to burst into tears.
“What can happen, Meggie?” Bin pressed, indicating the bright day. “Bogeyman won’t jump out at you.”
“Hey, babe,” Bunny said brightly, walking into the midst of their trio. She bent and hugged Meggie. She was a tall, busty, brown-haired girl whom one of the boys had started bringing around the club about three months ago. She’d looked so out of place, Meggie had made it a point to introduce her to some of the other ladies. In turn, she and Bunny had become friends. “A little Powwow going on here?”
Meggie shrugged. “Um, yeah.”
“We don’t need them,” another female voice said and Meggie groaned. Gypsy. Derby’s old lady.
Meggie avoided her as much as possible, even though she really liked her, too. Precisely why she avoided the woman. Derby cheated on Gypsy on a regular basis and it just made Meggie sick. It also caught her between a rock and a hard place. Tattle on one cheater, the other old ladies would expect her to report their men, too. Gypsy’s and Derby’s relationship wasn�
�t Meggie’s business. And, most of all, opening her mouth to the woman would cause problems for Christopher with Derby and trickle down to other men.
Lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t realized Bin and Shady departed until she heard the roar of their bikes.
“They so should not have done that,” she grouched. “They were supposed to wait for my dismissal.”
Annoyed at her surliness, she spun on her heel and stalked into the coffee shop, her gaze zeroing in on a Cheese Danish. She swore her tongue swelled with the need to taste the pastry and, suddenly, she felt ravenous. After ordering two Danishes and coffee, she waited while Bunny and Gypsy ordered. Once they collected their food and drink, they found a table right in the center of the laid-back little place.
“Ready for your bridal shower?” Gypsy asked. Her eyes twinkled and she winked. “And the stripper we’ve hired to grind on you?”
Meggie paused in her chewing. “You’re joking right?” she asked around a mouthful of food, the taste of the sugar and cream cheese like heaven to her. On her tongue. Once it hit her stomach, nausea careened through her. Crap. Gypsy ruined her Danish with the mention of a male dancer and Meggie’s imagining her husband’s reaction to another man swinging his penis in her face. She forced the last little bite down and frowned. “Christopher would kill the guy.”
Bunny chuckled. “Shit, yeah, we’re joking. He wouldn’t only kill the guy, he’d never let us around you again.”
Meggie didn’t comment because Bunny was right. She chased another bit of pastry with a small sip of coffee, her mind easing. “In that case, yes, I’m ready for the shower.”
“Geez, babe, excitement is just oozing from you,” Gypsy said with a short laugh.
“I’m just not feeling good,” she admitted with a shrug before biting another piece of Danish.
“Just nerves,” Bunny reassured her and patted her hand. “I’m fucking nervous, too, and it’s not my wedding. I don’t want your big day messed up, you know? And…well…you know, it sounds like you’re planning a big fancy wedding. And—“
“The boys aren’t big, fancy men,” Meggie finished, studying Bunny’s cotton candy pink nail polish. For the wedding, she intended to get a blue color close to the blueberry bow ties and handkerchiefs the guys would wear.
Gypsy puffed out a laugh. “Except for John Boy. He’s big and fancy.”
And…cue her blush. She lowered her lashes and licked her lips, unable to prevent the image of her cousin-in-law or the memory of how big he’d felt.
“Omigod,” Bunny squealed, wiggling a finger at her. “Meggie, you’re totally crushing on Johnnie.”
“Am not,” she denied, her cheeks heating even more at being called out.
Gypsy giggled, sounding younger than she ever had in Meggie’s presence. A sadness always hung about her, though she masked it with throaty laughter and loud talking. “You are! Don’t feel bad. We all crush on him and—“
“Christopher,” Meggie finished with a giggle of her own. As if how women viewed her husband was new to her. Christopher Caldwell equaled wicked temptation. “My husband is a hot piece of man candy who I enjoy sucking on every chance I get.”
The three of them roared with laughter and the release of tension felt good. Even her naughtiness freed the edginess within her. The past week had been tough with only her responsibilities to everyone and her son keeping her sane. The only time Christopher paid any attention to her was at night when he came to bed and made love to her. No. Not make love. She felt no connection to him because he refused to look at her while he was inside of her and refused to hold her afterwards. He just turned his back on her. It seemed unreal that their Valentine’s dinner had only been seven days ago. Between then and now, a lifetime had gone by.
But this was part of being his wife and she’d weather this storm like she had all the others in her life.
Gypsy’s bang on the table popped through her thoughts. “He’s rubbing off on you, Meggie,” she hollered.
They chuckled again, Meggie’s laugh forced this time.
“Where’s Little Man?” Bunny asked when their noise died down.
Debating on purchasing a third Danish, Meggie said, “With my mom.”
Bunny nodded. “Remember, when you saw my tat you said you wanted one,” she said, shifting in her seat and leaning forward.
“Yeah. But I wanted to get a temporary tattoo. To see if I liked it.”
“No shit?” Gypsy said, her thick eyebrows rising. “You with a tat? That’ll be something to see, girl.”
Meggie’s smile and enthusiasm faltered at Gypsy’s friendliness. She glanced away. Her mind surfed through the protocol of the situation. Probably no different than how it would be in the regular world, she decided. Some women would want the 411 on their man’s infidelities. Others wouldn’t.
“Hey, babe.” Gypsy reached over and clasped Meggie’s hand. “Are you angry with me about something?”
“No. Of course not.” She squirmed in her seat.
Gypsy’s lips thinned. “This is about Derby, isn’t it?”
“No.” She mumbled the lie.
“You lie for shit,” Gypsy snapped, a fact Meggie already knew because her father had always pointed that out to her. “This is about my old man. Don’t lie.”
Meggie glared at Gypsy, applauding her decision to distance herself from the woman. With everything else going to crap, it didn’t surprise Meggie she’d find herself in Gypsy’s presence now. “I don’t know how you think Derby is involved in my dealing with you—“
“You think I don’t know about the bitches he fucks?” she interrupted.
Meggie swallowed. Conflicting feelings bombarded her. She had no real friends anymore. Lacey didn’t like Christopher. Farrah straddled the fence about Meggie’s new life. The burgeoning friendship she’d had with Ophelia, her sister-in-law, had gone to smoke because of the girl’s treatment of Christopher. And Gypsy…honesty laid the foundation for any true friendship and Meggie didn’t have the option to tell Gypsy the God’s honest truth.
Gypsy grabbed Meggie’s hand and squeezed. “I love Derby and he loves me in his own way.” She shrugged, tossed her long hair over her shoulder. “I know what he does, Meggie. And I understand the position it placed you in because I’m sure you probably know, too.”
Bunny and Gypsy looked at Meggie with expectation but she kept her face blank, refusing to confirm or deny the assumption.
“I hate it, you know, babe?” Gypsy whispered, pulling her hand away from Meggie’s and rubbing her brow. “But I love him. We got two kids together. Eight and three.”
Meggie took a small nibble on the last bit of her pastry, everything she’d consumed churning in her belly. The masochist side of herself tortured her with speculations about her future life with Christopher. Would this be her in seven or eight years? He’d already jeopardized their wedding ceremony by missing the counseling session with Father Wilkins. Her saving grace had been how awful she’d looked, courtesy of her hangover, so she’d fibbed and said she’d caught a bug from Christopher and he was still sick. Not only did it give them a free pass, the priest had hastened her away. In two days, they had another session scheduled and she wasn’t sure what she’d do if Christopher missed this one.
She glanced at Bunny, who wore a sympathetic frown. Not because of Meggie’s thoughts but because of the distress on Gypsy’s face.
“You don’t have to confirm it,” Gypsy said without malice. “I already know, but, please, don’t let that affect us. Our friendship. You’re not responsible for Derby’s roaming dick.”
Almost Christopher’s exact words.
“So is this what’s facing me?” Bunny asked on a swallow.
“Not necessarily,” Gypsy responded with a watery smile. “I-I mean look at Outlaw. He wouldn’t fuck over Meggie if you paid him—“
“How long have you known Christopher?” Meggie hadn’t been curious before but something about Gypsy’s tone.
“About eight
years—“
Bile rose to her throat and she looked away. She’d have to get used to running into Christopher’s past lovers. But, first those two really pretty girls, Rose and Chantal at Dippin’ Sam’s describing to her all the things they’d done with him. Then, listening to Boy’s old lady, Danicka, advising her on how to sneak around and have her own lovers. Now, this. This coffee break was supposed to have been relaxing. “So…so you’ve slept with him?”
Bunny looked horrified at the idea.
Gypsy sniffled through laughter. “No, babe. I haven’t. I-I wanted to. I’ve slept with Mortician and Johnnie, though.”
Relief flooded Meggie and she sagged against the table, dropping her head in her hands. Her emotions were all over the place lately. She just wanted her marriage blessed. Was that too much to ask? Call her superstitious, but she wanted as much good karma in her life as possible. If it came down to it, she’d forget about the big wedding and just have her and Christopher renewing their vows in front of the priest. She’d tell that to her husband and then run the idea by Father Wilkins.
“Meggie, you have to be strong, babe,” Gypsy went on. “You’re in an awkward spot, but you make it clear your loyalty is to Outlaw and none of the girls are gonna expect you to rat out their men. Keep a neutral front. So far, you’re doing fine. That’s all any of us can ask for. Your man and the girls alike.”
Meggie smiled, but her heart hurt for the woman across from her and she placed her hand on top of Gypsy’s. “Thank you.”
“Hey, Meggie,” Bunny cut in, her mouth downturned. The gaiety they’d shared earlier had blown away. Discomfort and unease settled between them like dust in the wake of a sandstorm. “My kid brother is at his tattoo shop. You wanna swing by there and see if he’s free to draw a temporary on you?”
Meggie thought it over for a minute. A temporary tattoo wouldn’t hurt and it might ease Christopher’s guilt over what had taken place the other night. Visiting a tattoo parlor, without his influence—she’d never mentioned getting a tattoo to him—would show him she’d made a conscious decision to smoke pot and swallow tequila. The man had to understand he wasn’t responsible for everything that went on in her life. An idea of the tattoo she’d try formed in her head and she smiled. “Yes, I think I do.”
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 45