“Get your fuckin’ shit together. I ain’t tellin’ your ass, I’m fuckin’ orderin’ you.”
“If I could get myself together, I would,” she spat, dropping her gaze.
“You fuckin’ can. You just too fuckin’ busy bein’ a baby fuckin’ Dinah around this motherfucker. Feelin’ fuckin’ sorry for yourself.”
“You don’t understand, so please leave and I am telling Johnnie.”
Christopher shrugged. “Don’t give a fuck. I love that motherfucker, but ain’t no-fuckin-body more important than Megan. Your fuckin’ bullshit got my wife hurt. Made her lose our baby. She went into fuckin’ shock. You fuckin’ hear me? This baby was takin’ a lot from her. I almost fuckin’ lost her. And, I fuckin’ swear to you if she’d…if Megan left me and CJ because of you, I woulda fuckin’ killed you. So you tell Johnnie what the fuck you want. Or don’t fuckin’ tell him. I don’t give a fuck. Just thank the fuck out of your lucky stars my girl breathin’.”
Another sob escaped her and she turned to him, allowing him to see how much his words hurt her. Looking at him, she knew it didn’t make a difference. “Leave.”
“Shut the fuck up.” He thrust his hands through his hair. “What the fuck was you thinkin’? You wanted to go the fuck to steal Spoon’s fake shit, that was your business. You got Megan into it. My business now.” Folding his arms, he glared at her and she shrank back at the fury in his eyes.
“She didn’t have to go.”
Christopher stepped toward her, then paused, barking with laughter. Not nice, though. “You fuckin’ guilted her into goin’. Don’t play fuckin’ stupid. I know the entire fuckin’ story.”
“Of course you do,” she returned with bitterness. “She’s your puppet. She has to tell you everything.”
Closing his eyes, Christopher drew in deep breaths, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “If I was you, I’d shut the fuck up,” he growled after a minute, his look glacial enough to lend ice to the Artic. “I’m a fuckin’ minute from blowin’ you the fuck away.”
The second death threat in less than five minutes soared Kendall’s heart rate and pulse. Machines started beeping, but Christopher didn’t move. The door opened and a nurse hurried in, Johnnie and Mortician right behind her.
“Aww fuck,” Mortician said when Johnnie came to a halt and looked between Christopher and Kendall.
The nurse pressed a couple buttons on the machine and recorded the numbers in the palm of her hand. “I’m going to have to ask you gentlemen to leave. I’ll be in to give you a shot to bring your pressure down, Ms. Miller.”
None of the three “gentlemen” moved. Johnnie glared at Christopher and Christopher returned it with a murderous one of his own. The nurse started past Mortician and he halted her, bending to her ear and whispering to her before winking.
The woman nodded and giggled. “I’ll be back in a moment,” she purred.
Mortician’s smile widened but the moment the door closed, he turned to them. “Shoot it the fuck out. At least you two already in a fucking hospital.”
“Shut the fuck up, Mortician,” Christopher demanded, the calmness in his tone more frightening than him screaming.
“What the fuck did you say to her?” Johnnie snarled, his fierceness surprising Kendall and soothing some of her hurt caused by Christopher.
“What the fuck needed to be told to her.”
“You have a fuckin problem with her, come to me. Leave Kendall the fuck alone.”
“That what the fuck you want, John Boy? Me comin’ to you when she’s the fuckin’ bitch responsible for my girl’s pain.”
Johnnie got right up in Christopher’s face. “Megan’s a grown fucking woman. Kendall isn’t responsible for one fucking thing that happened to your wife, so if you know what the fuck’s good for you, you’ll leave Kendall the fuck alone.”
Silence fell at Johnnie’s hard words and Christopher stared for a moment, his shock hard to miss and matching Mortician’s. Kendall sank back against the pillows, her heart turning over at Johnnie’s strident defense of her.
“No, Prez—“
Kendall turned towards Johnnie and Christopher at the horror in Mortician’s voice and she cried out at the gun shoved against Johnnie’s temple.
“You fuckin’ move, John Peter, I’m pullin’ this fuckin’ trigger. You fuckin’ listen. Both you and your fuckin’ whinin’ bitch. If you ain’t got the fuckin’ balls to tell her to get her fuckin’ shit together, I don’t give a fuck. But you losin’ your balls in this bitch’s pussy got Megan hurt. Kendall need fuckin’ help. She went through a lot? Yeah, I fuckin’ know and I’m sorry. Megan ain’t fuckin’ stupid, though, but she is fuckin’ loyal. You her friend, she gonna be your friend no matter what. Now, motherfucker, my wife told your bitch not to fuckin’ go. Your bitch told my wife she was goin’ with or without her. Nod your fuckin’ head if you understand me so far.”
The fury in Johnnie’s eyes frightened Kendall as much as Christopher’s rage and she looked to Mortician, silently asking for help. Instead of giving her an encouraging or friendly smile, he glowered at her.
“I see I ain’t tellin’ you shit you don’t fuckin’ know, motherfucker,” Christopher continued. “So let’s fast fuckin’ forward to today. Megan cryin’ her fuckin’ eyes out cuz the beatin’ she took on behalf of your fuckin’ bitch did somethin’ to her. She might not ever, ever be able to carry another baby and that’s breakin’ her fuckin’ heart.”
Johnnie’s eyes widened at Christopher’s announcement and Kendall gasped.
“I thought whiny fuckin’ Dinah would cause somethin’ to happen to Megan. But your bitch—“
“Kendall didn’t cause anything—“
“The fuck she didn’t. She a sulkin’, miserable cunt that fuckin’ manipulate situations to keep herself a sulkin’ miserable cunt.”
Johnnie shoved Christopher and Kendall covered her eyes when Christopher cocked the barrel.
“Pull the fucking trigger, motherfucker.”
“Johnnie, no!” Kendall cried.
“Shut up, Kendall,” Mortician snapped. “You fucking caused enough bullshit.”
Whirling away from Christopher as if the man didn’t have a gun on him, Johnnie’s face twisted in rage. “You don’t have a fucking right talking to her like that.”
The door handle jiggled and Kendall realized Mortician had locked it. “Security!” an authoritative voice called. “Open this door.”
Glaring at Johnnie, Christopher shoved his nine into his cut and nodded to Mortician to open the door.
Two uniformed men strolled in and looked at the three big bikers.
“City boys on the way.” The mustached one addressed Christopher. “Looks like you three spending time at the County Hotel.”
“Jail,” the other guard clarified and snickered.
Christopher shrugged, Johnnie rolled his eyes, and Mortician scowled.
“Do they have to go?” Kendall asked, close to having a breakdown. The last thing she wanted was to see them arrested. “Please? They were having a disagreement and it got too loud. I just lost my baby.” She pointed to Johnnie. “And he’s the father and I need him with me. I’ll be even more distressed if he—and the other two—are hauled away.” She couldn’t care less about Christopher, but she wouldn’t single him out.
The nurse sidled through the crowd and administered the shot to Kendall. She patted her hand. “We’ll restore peace and order so you can rest, Ms. Miller,’ she soothed. She turned to Mortician. “Sorry,” she muttered. “They were making too much noise.”
Mortician nodded. “I feel you, babe.”
An hour later, Kendall found herself alone. They hadn’t been able to stay and the hospital security hadn’t taken Kendall’s words into account. They were on high alert, one of them explained, because of a bombing that had taken place at one of the Portland MCs.
Oh, God! And, Kendall knew, while she’d been leading Meggie on a suicide mission, Johnnie had been bombing the Torpedoe
s’ clubhouse.
Chapter 27
Merriweather Lewis and William Clark had camped in the area over two hundred years ago, speaking of the thick fog, the quawmash flowers and the array of birds. Familiar rivers and land masses had completely different names during their expedition. It would be another ninety years before the city of Camas came about and a just over one hundred years before Washougal and Hortensia were incorporated ten years apart.
Johnnie fucking swore the Hortensia city jail had been built somewhere between Lewis and Clark’s expedition and the town’s incorporation, waiting for inhabitants to fill it. He could see no other goddamn explanation for the holding cell inside an airless fucking building containing a few battered desks and rickety chairs. The fucking jail was a throwback to another fucking time because it certainly wasn’t modern.
Fucking worse? The fact that the fucking cell felt overcrowded with Christopher as a cellmate. Those fucking apes in uniform being so near kept Johnnie from killing Christopher with his bare hands.
Christopher paced back and forth, his anger so palpable it almost jumped the fuck up and bitch slapped all of them. Mortician sat on the bench, his eyes closed, leaning his head against the crumbling concrete wall.
Mortician rubbed a hand over his face. “How long it’s been since you been in the tank, Prez?”
“I don’t fuckin’ know, Mort. You fuckin’ tell me. At this point, I don’t give a fuck. I just want out of this motherfucker.”
“Hey, Caldwell,” the arresting officer called, smirking. “Know anything about the bomb that took down the Torpedoes’ MC?”
Gripping the bars, Christopher glared at the portly officer. An older man with salt and pepper hair framing his shiny bald head. “Them Portland MC motherfuckers?” he called with a confused frown. “What bomb? What the fuck I’m supposed to know about them?”
“Tell me,” the officer said. “Whoever brings in the fuckers responsible for that will have their fifteen minutes of fame.”
“Good fuckin’ luck with that, motherfucker,” Christopher snarled in low tones. Louder, he said, “Jackpot goin’ to somebody else because I don’t know fuckin shit.”
The cop stared at Christopher. “That so? You three fucks had more than enough guns and knives on you.” He rocked back on his heels, smug. “Maybe, I should obtain a search warrant? Check your fucking compound. See what I’ll find.”
Christopher chuckled. “Do that, motherfucker. First of all, you ain’t findin’ fuck all. Second, we have permits for the weapons we carry, bug fuck.”
They did—thanks to Boss and his big, fucking payoffs.
“Third,” Christopher continued, “I hate to fuckin’ think of your shitty ass precinct without the fuckin’ benefit of my money. When the county boys walk the fuck in here, I guarantee, me and my boys fuckin’ walk.”
Copper gave Christopher a crooked smile. “We’ll fucking see.” He pointed to Mortician.
“What about Blackie?” he asked, laughing at his own joke.
“The only motherfucker between us who ain’t ever been to fuckin’ jail,” Christopher commented a little too nice.
“Prez,” Mortician whispered from behind him. “Motherfucker jerking your chains. He got a Black fucking wife. A little bitty thing who’ll pistol fucking whip him if she heard him.”
Christopher nodded and chuckled. “I know. He ain’t fuckin’ with me, motherfucker. He fuckin’ with you for fuckin’ his wife.”
Johnnie stared in incredulity, sure he’d misheard. “Mortician, you didn’t fuck a cop’s wife?”
“Bitch got a pussy too,” he said with a shrug. “She wanted to give it to me, so why shouldn’t I have fucked her?”
“Because shit like that puts you on a cop’s most hated list, fucker,” Johnnie snapped.
“I don’t believe he’s never gone to jail,” the cop called, trying his best to keep his cool but failing. He stood and lumbered to the cell.
“Don’t give a shit if you believe it or not, son.” Mortician pulled out the cigarettes the fucker had allowed them to keep when he didn’t hide the fact he’d pocketed the money he’d found in their belongings when he’d confiscated everything else. “It’s the truth.”
“Put those away.” He pointed to a no smoking sign any schmuck could purchase from a hardware store.
Safely behind bars, they couldn’t choke the fuck out him for being a thieving motherfucker. Johnnie knew Christopher had considered it, even though Officer Prick had had a partner with him during the arrest and lockup. Allowing them to keep their cigarettes was just a false fucking peace offering to save his own ass from a fuck-up for stealing their cash.
Ass-fucking-hole.
“I’ll tell my daddy to pray for your fucking ass if you let me light one up,” Mortician offered, breaking into Johnnie’s thoughts.
“Shut the fuck up, Mort,” Christopher said with a laugh. “I ain’t gonna be able to deal with fuckin’ Sharper. Hear Mortician? Keep him the fuck away from me.”
“Don’t worry, Prez. I don’t want anywhere near his girlfriend-stealing, baby-claiming ass.”
Christopher clapped Mortician on the back. “Char still married to him and you got Bailey.”
“And another baby on the way,” Johnnie reminded him.
“I might have another baby on the way but I don’t have fucking Bailey.”
“Mortician, motherfucker,” Christopher growled. “If you fuckin’ pushin’ Bailey away cuz of that fuckin’ slut, I swear I’ll fuckin’ castrate you.”
“Do it,” he snarled. “Please. Motherfucker don’t do right by me anyway. Always leading me to pussy better left untouched.”
“Your dick don’t lead you anywhere, fucker,” Johnnie yelled, snatching his cigarette and taking a drag before handing it to Christopher. “Your brain has to be in on it, too.”
“My dick and my brain don’t always get along. With Char and Bailey, my dick won.”
“I’m beginning to believe you, Caldwell.” Copper frowned. “You boys aren’t equipped to plan a bombing.”
“Nope,” Christopher agreed, taking another drag. “I just have a ninth fuckin’ grade education. The only one of my boys who didn’t at least graduate from high school.” He nodded to Johnnie. “My brother here got a college degree.” Then he jabbed a thumb in Mort’s direction. “This motherfucker grew up in fuckin’ unimaginable wealth. Walked the fuck away from it cuz his pops such a flamin’ dickhead.”
“True that, Prez.” Mortician threw the cigarette butt on the floor and stomped it out. “Not a penicillin been discovered to cure him, neither.”
Christopher and Mortician snickered and bumped fists and Johnnie stared, wondering if he could walk away from them and the club. As his anger abated, though, he felt betrayed. As long as Christopher felt justified in defending Megan anyway he saw fit, there would be no peace. Not every girl got along with their brother-in-law’s woman. That was life, but he and Christopher did too damn much together, worked too closely together for their women to cause friction between them.
“Brooks.”
Christopher’s voice drew Johnnie back to his surroundings in time to see the lawyer striding in, along with the county boys, who looked nervous as hell.
While Mutt and Jeff from Hortensia PD was on the club’s payroll, the county’s sheriff was also on it. If they ended up in the fucking County Hotel, there’d be hell to pay.
Johnnie stuffed the last bit of his clothes into his duffle bag, ignoring Mortician who sat on the bed and monitored Johnnie’s every move. They’d bailed out of jail a few hours ago after being there for nearly a day with all types of bullshit questions thrown their way.
Of course they were suspected in the bombing, and so much other shit, if they ever went to jail, they’d get a couple thousand years along with ten life sentences. Whatever game the sheriff played with Christopher, Johnnie didn’t know, but the man had just earned a mortal enemy.
Even as Johnnie packed, Val was scoping out the sheriff t
o report to Christopher why they’d spent hours in jail and been interrogated when the club sent Gs every month in cash to keep heat away from them.
From the time they’d been transferred to county, Johnnie hadn’t spoken to Christopher and Christopher hadn’t spoken to him. The easing of his rage returned full force, just by Christopher’s silence. While Johnnie expected it, it enraged him that Christopher wouldn’t offer one word of mollification. After that motherfucker shoved a gun to his temple and insulted his woman, Johnnie doubted he’d ever speak to Christopher again. The moment they’d gotten to the clubhouse and Christopher ordered Brooks to wait for him so he could be driven to the hospital where Megan and his bike were, Johnnie had shrugged out of his cut and thrown it to the floor.
Time had stopped, his entire life flashing before him as if the cut had been the thing keeping him alive. Christopher was a cold-blooded motherfucker, though. He’d stared at Johnnie for a moment and then spat at him, “you have sixty fuckin’ minutes to get the fuck off premises.” Not a word more. No apology. No let’s talk about this. Nothing.
Fucking nothing.
Then he’d stalked off, not looking back.
“John Boy,” Mortician began quietly.
“I don’t want to hear one fucking word from you.”
“Too fucking bad,” Mort snarled back.
Johnnie stiffened. “Get the fuck out of here.”
“Or what, motherfucker. You intend to fucking kill me?”
Clenching his jaw, Johnnie snatched the duffel bag and started for the door.
“You going to just walk the fuck away? That’s fucked up, brother.”
“I don’t belong here anymore. You. Christopher. Megan. None of you ever gave Kendall a fair chance.”
“Bullshit and you know that. Kendall didn’t give Meggie a chance. In her ass the moment Meggie walked in.”
“My fault—“
“So fucking kind of you to notice, motherfucker. But it still set Kendall off and, in turn, it set Meggie off. No matter what else Meggie might be, she not rolling over and taking bullshit.”
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 114