“Brooks mentioned me too, I take it,” Johnnie said dryly, ignoring the dark look Christopher turned on him.
“Let’s cut to the heart of the matter. The guns that I still need. I so kindly overlooked your unprofessionalism in our first arrangement. Too many people involved. I needed to remain under the radar, not murder a wealthy attorney with a socialite wife, cops—albeit dirty ones—and motorcycle men. This way, if Outlaw comes and something goes awry, it’ll be easy to take out my frustrations on him.”
“And start a fucking war between our outfits,” Cash called.
“Yeah, son. No fucking way you’d kill Outlaw and not get a bullet or ten in your fucking ass,” Mortician pointed out.
“Whether my ass accompanied the fuckin’ guns or not, not a motherfuckin’ thing else would go fuckin’ wrong. But since I still ain’t interested in doin’ business with you, that fuckin’ point don’t fuckin’ matter.”
“You’re really beginning to annoy me, Outlaw.”
“And you already pissed me the fuck off, so now what?”
“Let’s regroup and speak in a few days,” McCallister persisted.
Instead of answering, Christopher nodded to Cash, who disconnected the call.
“You missed going to the graves with Meggie for that bullshit,” Val said, shaking his head.
Christopher glared at Val, before taking a deep swig from his bottle. “Don’t fuckin’ remind me how I disappointed her unless you want me to fuck your ass up.”
“Prez, right before John Boy walked in you was saying how Meggie was calling you the Grinch because you complained about her holiday plans,” Mort said. “You not happy you missed the All Saints Day tradition?”
“Not really, Mortician,” he answered gravely. “Dinah been dead six months and Megan go to her fuckin’ grave every week, which mean she back at Patrick grave every week. My girl need me at her side, not fuckin’ with a motherfucker I might have to fuckin’ kill to get off my fuckin’ back.”
Stretch shifted in his seat, the scar from the beating he’d received now a prominent mark on his face. He’d never regained the easy-going liveliness he’d once had. While he’d always been quiet, he’d never been withdrawn. “What the fuck is McCallister up to?”
“Fuck if I know. I’ma get Riley on that motherfucker, since McCallister harrasin’ Brooks now.”
Johnnie poured a finger of whiskey into his forgotten glass. “Is that why you did this conference call?” he asked, after taking a sip.
“Yeah. Brooks ain’t seemin’ to be able to handle McCallister too fuckin’ much no more. Just like he fuckin’ did with me, he ain’t comin’ right the fuck out and makin’ threats to Brooks and Charlotte, but that’s the underlyin’ fuckin’ sentiment.”
“We’ve had six months of peace, Christopher,” Johnnie began softly. “Let’s…maybe we should do the deal to get him, and the arms, off our backs.”
“I ain’t allowin’ a motherfucker to intimidate me. And don’t think I ain’t heard you bitchin’ ‘bout havin’ a pregnant fuckin’ wife. I got one, too.” He nodded to Mortician. “Mort and his woman got a newborn. We all got fuckin’ families and obligations. The difference is we ain’t henpecked and we still got our fuckin’ balls.”
Kendall’s pregnancy had worn him out, so instead of anger at Christopher’s words, Johnnie polished off his whiskey, hating the thought that Christopher just might be right.
McCallister was bad fucking news.
Christopher didn’t need to be a fucking rocket scientist to understand that shit though the motherfucker checked out with Riley. He wasn’t some law enforcement fuckhead out to trap Christopher. And he didn’t have a fucking beef with the club and was trying to lure Christopher to his turf to fuck him up.
On the surface, what he fucking was, was an arms dealer with international ties. He had buyers stateside and overseas, as well as in Mexico and Canada. Riley was trying to check into who the fuck they were, to see what had put the bee up McCallister’s ass to get the guns from the club. One of the overseas buyers must be ready to move and wasn’t giving the dealer much time. That had to be the reason he wanted Christopher to personally deliver. Nothing like getting boss motherfuckers to a meeting to make a lasting fucking impression. Maybe, if McCallister had agreed to meet him stateside, Christopher would feel differently.
Maybe.
Or, if the motherfucker wasn’t so insistent Christopher himself make the delivery. After their initial meeting for the deal that fell through, it was supposed to all be done locally. Now, the assfuck wanted international delivery.
Shit just wasn’t adding up for Christopher.
As he explained his stance to his boys at their weekly dinner, this time at Zoann’s and Val’s house, he kept one eye on Megan as she laughed and giggled with the girls a few feet away. Her smiles made him happy. In the days since she’d gone to the cemetery to do whatever the fuck happened on All Saints Day, she’d been so sad. Considering she’d also had to deal with the knowledge of that hell house, Christopher understood.
A week had passed since his conversation with McCallister, and Riley had just delivered his report a few hours ago. It just re-fucking-enforced Christopher’s decision not to fuck with the motherfucker.
The last bit of business until the new year was Digger. After that, Christopher intended to be a holiday-happy motherfucker. Thrilled all the bullshit was behind him, he’d put a no-fucking-motherfuckers-up moratorium in place until January second. Once the clock struck midnight and brought in that day, all fucking bets were off.
“Yo, Digger,” he started. “I know you and Bunny lookin’ for a place of your own. Tryna find shit close to the club. But I was thinkin’. We got a fuckin’ parcel here on the grounds that we can fuckin’ sell you. It fuckin’ mean you gotta stay at the club and she gotta stay at my house a bit longer.” He shrugged. “Unless you wanna fuckin’ rent a place ‘til your fuckin’ house built and shit.”
“Prez, you serious?” Digger sounded as if he didn’t quite believe Christopher.
“I heard you and Bunny came into some fuckin’ money a couple fuckin’ days ago.” The stashed money from Megan’s house that Christopher already had a buyer for. He wanted to unload it so bad, he was selling it well below cost. “I thought maybe it was a prime fuckin’ time to offer some land to your ass.”
“How close this fool going to be to me, Prez?” Mort pretended disgust.
“Close, Mort,” Christopher responded, then grabbed his bottle and emptied it of rum. “Between your house and John Boy.”
“Bunny!”
Bunny looked in Digger’s direction and smiled. “Yeah, babe?”
“I think our hunt for a place might be over. Prez offering land here and we can build our own crib. If that’s okay.”
“Oh my God,” Bunny squealed, jumping to her feet and rushing to where they sat around the home bar.
Wood and stone surrounded them in the two story room. Although the staircase to the second floor sat at the front of the house, the hallway on that level could be glimpsed from where they sat in the den. The wooden banister curved through the area, ending near the wall with the stone fireplace.
“You want a log cabin like this?” Digger glanced around. “A mansion like Prez and John Boy? A modest two-story like Mort?”
Bunny tangled her fingers through his shoulder-length dreads. “I’d like a cottage.”
Digger frowned. “A cottage? Like in Little Red Riding Hood?”
“No, Mark. Like something from a Thomas Kincaid painting.”
He rolled his eyes and nodded to Christopher. “Hook me up, Prez.”
“I’ll hook you up when you pay the fuck up,” Christopher retorted. “After we sign off on the shit.”
“Bunny, make sure you’re on the title,” Kendall advised, craning her fucking neck in their direction. “If Digger decides to leave, you’ll have a place to stay.”
Christopher snorted while Mort shook his head.
“Wh
y would you put such doom and gloom on their relationship?” Bailey asked. Her and Mort’s new boy was thirteen weeks old. She’d taken this semester off from school to focus on her family. As her brother-in-law, Digger was part of that family, so she’d feel protective of him.
“I’m just advising her, Bailey. I mean no harm. Most bikers are unpredictable. Even Meggie was smart enough to make Outlaw put the house in her name.”
“Even Meggie?” Megan glared at Kendall. “I didn’t make Christopher put the house in my name. He did that on his own because he loves me. I still consider it our house.”
“Now now, no need for your inner brat to reveal itself.” Kendall leaned back and rested her hands on her belly. “We all know you think about me all the time and take my advice more than you admit. Right? I mean look at how you’ve handled your money. Exactly as I would’ve advised you. Furthermore, you haven’t been kind to me since Halloween and I want to know why.”
What the fuck did one fucking subject have to do with the other?
Apparently Megan under-fucking-stood because a dark look crossed her face. “I haven’t been anything, Kendall,” she replied. “This is the first I’ve seen you since then.”
Before Christopher did something he fucking regretted with the bitch on a sudden rampage, he got to his feet. “That’s my fuckin’ cue to get my girl and my kids and get the fuck gone.”
“You’re letting him dictate to you like that? You’d abandon me and our conversation?”
“No, Kendall,” Megan said on a sigh. “I’m not abandoning you, but I am annoyed with you. You and I both know you have the solution to be better. Because you did. For over a year. Then, against your doctor’s wishes, against everyone’s wishes, you stopped your medicine and revert back to the woman you were. You didn’t even like that woman. I’m here for you. I’m your friend. Your sister-in-law. As both, I’m telling you you’re not doing yourself or any of us a favor by thumbing your nose at the means to help yourself.”
Well, fucking, well, well. Megan had finally lost her fucking shit with Johnnie’s bitch.
This had to be the sweetest fucking moment of the year for Christopher.
Kendall burst into tears and jumped to her feet, which, in turn, made Megan’s face crumple.
“Bunny, bring the kids when you come home,” Christopher instructed, going to Megan and sweeping her into his arms, gritting his teeth at the sound of Kendall’s loud sobs and Johnnie’s soothing tone.
As Christopher started toward the door, Megan opened her mouth.
“Kendall, I’m—”
“Don’t fuckin’ do it, baby,” Christopher interrupted. “Don’t fuckin’ apologize to her. Every fuckin’ thing you said to that bitch was fuckin’ right.”
Instead of giving Megan a chance to apologize anyway, he hurried out of the room, hoping Bunny decided to stay behind another couple of hours.
“I shouldn’t have blown up at Kendall like that,” Meggie said with regret as Christopher carried her through their front door, where a huge autumn wreath hung.
A family of Pilgrims greeted them in the foyer. As usual, Christopher glared at the fiberglass people and Meggie poked him. Grunting, he continued down the hall and to the staircase. All the way up, garlands of fall leaves decorated the banisters. At the second floor landing, ceramic turkeys stood. The smallest had recently been rescued from the toilet in the hallway bathroom, after CJ dumped it and tried to flush. He thought the overflowing water hilarious.
Meggie shook her head. Christopher had laughed, but he wasn’t quite as amused.
When Christopher reached the third floor, Meggie rested her head on her husband’s chest, inhaling his scent—alcohol, smoke, cologne, and him. She nuzzled his neck and he set her on her feet, keeping his hands at her waist to steady her.
Her palms flat on his chest, Meggie stood on her tiptoes, sighing when Christopher slanted his mouth over hers for a heated kiss. She threaded her fingers through his hair as he backed her against a wall, tweaking her sensitive nipples.
“Bedroom down the fuckin’ hall, baby,” he whispered between kisses as he slid her jeans and panties down. “Can’t wait that fuckin’ long for dick, huh?”
She stepped out of her clothes. “I want you so bad.”
His husky, satisfied laughter sent shivers through Meggie. He turned her and she braced her hands on the wall. He skimmed his rough fingertips along the backs of her thighs, sending fire through her veins.
A moment later, he slid into her, fisting her hair.
“You got good, hot pussy, Megan.”
He withdrew from her before thrusting into her again, leaning against her and biting her neck.
“Christopher,” she breathed.
This time when he pulled out of her, he released her hair and slid to his knees, burying his face against her slick feminine lips and licking her. She groaned, pushing against his tongue. He lapped at her clit, driving Meggie insane until the heat of his mouth became too much and she shattered.
Keeping an arm around her, Christopher stood and lifted her into his arms, kissing her deeply once more, allowing her to taste herself. He carried her into their bedroom. She’d left an accent lamp on and it gave off a low light, enough for her to clearly see the desire in her husband’s green eyes.
He deposited her on the bed, then left her, briefly disappearing into the hallway and returning with the clothes she’d removed. He closed the door and leaned against it for a moment, considering her.
“Don’t fuckin’ regret what you told Kendall.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Kendall doesn’t mean most of what she says.” While she wasn’t thinking about her sister-in-law at the moment, when she had time to ponder her words and actions, Meggie would regret tonight. “I understand what she’s going through.”
That was the reason she was trying her best to stay away from Kendall, for the time being.
Glowering, Christopher stalked to the little refrigerator. He grabbed a beer for himself and a water for her. Once he opened both, handed her the water, drank his beer and sat next to her, he glanced at her.
“Keep givin’ this bitch a pass and I’ma fuckin’ believe you a pushover.”
Meggie sipped from her water, then sat it on the table and crawled to her side of the bed, the air cool against her bare bottom. “There’s nothing wrong with offering her understanding.”
“Yeah, the fuck there is. That’s what that bitch want, to get the fuck over on motherfuckers. Every-fuckin-thing you told her, her ass needed to fuckin’ hear.”
“She just makes me so mad sometimes.”
“Then don’t fuckin’ apologize for that.” He finished off his beer, then stood and undressed himself as she removed the rest of her clothes. Once they were both naked and in bed, he pulled her into his arms. “You not a fuckin’ puppet, Megan. You got emotions just like that bitch. Don’t turn them the fuck off, cuz she sure the fuck don’t ig-fuckin-nore hers.”
“I know and it seems all I ever do is defend her to you, but I know how she acted before she got pregnant again. She was happy and friendly and—”
“And fuck her. I wasn’t sayin’ that shit to start a long fuckin’ conversation ‘bout her. I just didn’t want you to fuckin’ get it in your head to tell her you was fuckin’ sorry for tonight.”
“Okay.”
“Cuz I swear, baby, the way you told her the fuck off almost got my dick off then and there.”
She frowned at him.
“E-fuckin-nuff ‘bout that bitch. We got better fuckin’ things to do.”
“Like what?” she teased. “Maybe, talk about what you want me to cook when we check all the lights and ornaments in a couple weeks?”
Turning her onto her side and caressing the underside of her breast, Christopher bit her ear. “Nope. Seein’ how well my big cock fit into your little cunt.”
“Oh,” she responded on a breathless giggle. “In that case, who am I to argue?” she whispered, quite content for Christopher t
o test his theory.
“No fuckin’ way.”
“I’m sorry, Outlaw, but this has to be done.”
Christopher scowled at Brooks Redding, the attorney who served as the club’s lawyer. With only a week before Thanksgiving, the motherfucker was now insisting Christopher get his ass on a goddamn plane and head overseas to complete the deal with McCallister.
No. Fucking. Way.
Even if Christopher had changed his mind, which he fucking hadn’t, Brooks couldn’t even fucking reassure him of the time-fucking-frame. He just had to hop his ass where-the-fuck-ever while his wife was twenty-eight weeks pregnant, to pla-fucking-cate a fuckhead, who wouldn’t take fucking no for a fucking answer. Maybe, the motherfucker didn’t have a family to be with during the holidays, but Christopher did. Megan loved this time of year. Since Halloween, he’d allowed her to host a party, a barbecue, and a dance at the club for the brothers and their families. Next week, they were going to have a massive Thanksgiving feast and the day after that was Black Friday.
It was Christopher’s and Megan’s thing to go shopping on that day, from the time they’d met. He wasn’t about to break tradition this year and disappoint her.
“I ain’t doin’ it, Brooks,” Christopher declared, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair. He searched the faces of each of his officers. Mortician, Digger, and Stretch kept carefully blank expressions. Cash tapped his fingers on the conference table. Val slid his cell phone closer to the edge, to better read whatever text he’d just gotten. From Zoann, no doubt.
Johnnie was the only motherfucker with the audacity to look outraged.
Flipping him off, Christopher lifted a brow. “You fuckin’ go, John Boy. You wanna soothe this motherfucker feelins so much. I ain’t try’na find a goddamn transport plane or any of that shit just when the holiday season kickin’ in and go.”
“You know I can’t do that. Kendall’s due date is three and a half weeks away. I have to be here. Let Mort go.”
“And leave Bailey with a toddler and an infant?” Mortician snapped.
“Roxy lives with you. She’ll look after her, your son, and Harley,” Johnnie countered.
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 275