Christopher bared his teeth. “Fuckin’ commendable how the fuck you protectin’ her. I ain’t fuckin’ hurtin’ her. She got your fuckin’ girl in her and she already a ma to your boy. We fuckin’ family and family don’t fuckin’ kill up each other. But, Johnnie, family don’t fuckin’ betray each other either.”
“I didn’t betray you.”
“No, your bitch did, but it might as well be you since you takin’ the fuckin’ rap.”
“I’m sorry.”
Bitter laughter floated from Christopher. “Sorry ain’t cuttin’ it, assfuck. She leavin’ the firm. Period. I don’t want her involved in club business through her fuckin’ job.” He looked at Johnnie as if he hated him. “Once before, I told your braindead ass to get your bitch in line. I’m tellin’ you again—get your motherfuckin’ wife in line before she cause some fuckin’ shit that ain’t ever able to get fuckin’ fixed. Like she did when she got Megan involved in her bullshit, and led both her and Megan to lose babies.”
Johnnie nodded bleakly.
“Get these two shot motherfuckers sewed up,” Christopher ordered.
“Prez, what’s next?”
“My ass gettin’ through this fuckin’ day, Mort. Cash, do whatcha do and get me transport and whatever the fuck else I need.”
“Christopher,” Johnnie mumbled.
“Ain’t fuck else I wanna hear from you, motherfucker.”
And with that, Christopher stormed away.
Flipping through the pages of a magazine about pregnancy, Christopher ignored the covert looks thrown his way as he sat in Dr. Jordan Will’s office. She was the physician who’d delivered CJ and Patrick. The one who’d cared for Megan through her illness after the loss of Patrick. The same one who’d sent her to a high-risk OB when Megan had gotten pregnant before Doc Will thought good for Megan’s health.
All types of articles for new moms jumped out at Christopher from the pages of the December issue of Mom and Baby Courier. A bunch of fucking recipes, toy ads, and holiday advice helped along by the fucking holiday music piping into the office. It wasn’t even fucking Thanksgiving yet. Motherfuckers needed to keep the holidays in their own goddamn lanes. Let Hallo-fucking-ween be Hallo-fucking-ween and so on. But after the Back-to-School shopping ads and Labor Day shit ended, holiday advertising crossed.
Mostly Halloween and Christmas. Thanksgiving wasn’t even a blip in the seasonal promotions. When Christopher had been a kid, it had been an important day of thanks, not only in school but for his mother. To him, Thanksgiving merely marked the beginning of the misery of having to endure more visits to his grandfather’s house.
When he’d began celebrating the holiday at the club, it had been about pussy and partying.
But, now…now Thanksgiving meant something to him. It reminded him of how much his life had changed and how grateful he was to whatever fluke had put Megan in his path.
She was, and always would be, his sweet angel.
He smirked at a page with an advertisement for baby furniture, silently amused at how he even gave a fuck about what the fuck went on with any of this shit. It was so goddamn domestic.
Once upon a time, Christmas morning excited the fuck out of him. When he’d been a small boy, his ma went out of her way to purchase toy cars for him. They’d go to Mass, then head to his grandparents. And that’s where Christopher’s fucking enjoyment ended.
Not because of the gifts and attention Logan showered on Johnnie. It was due to the fuckhead’s shit treatment of Christopher. More often than not, he was made to sit in a corner, all alone. As he recalled, Patricia encouraged the behavior so Christopher wouldn’t call attention to himself and garner Logan’s abusive notice.
Fuck, but Christopher hated that motherfucker. What he wouldn’t give to have been present when Johnnie had blown Logan the fuck away.
Although his mother could’ve handled the situation better, Christopher now understood she not only feared her father’s wrath but she accepted his demands to visit for the girls, especially Zoann, who Logan fell in love with on first sight when she’d been born. Not a sexual type of love. Though Christopher wouldn’t put it past the perverted assfuck, he’d felt nothing deviant for her. When Zoann had been a child, Logan had the same adoring, sick type of love that he’d carried for Johnnie, where he showered them with attention and used them as his pawns.
Fuck.
Throwing the magazine aside, Christopher scrubbed a hand over his face. Johnnie had been as damaged as Christopher—as damaged as Zoann—because of Logan. Deep down, Christopher understood Johnnie. Sometimes better than the stupid motherfucker understood himself. That’s why he was so goddamn furious with him for the position his cunt had put Christopher and the club in.
Kendall.
He balled his hands into fists, gritting his teeth to keep from growling out loud and scaring the fuck out of the bitches in there, two of whom were pregnant and sat with preppy little assfucks who reminded him of his brother.
As much as he despised Kendall—as much as he fucking hated to admit—he understood that bitch, too. He understood she’d been through a fucking lot. He under-fucking-stood every motherfucker in her life had fucking deserted her or used the fuck out of her. Why the fuck wouldn’t she be a paranoid cunt and hold the fuck on to Johnnie with everything in her, when every-fucking-body else had just thrown her the fuck away? Yeah, she was throw-away-able. That’s why she wanted to be Megan. No one had ever loved her for being herself.
Christopher even fucking understood she had a goddamn illness. But that didn’t fucking take away the goddamn fact that she needed to calm the fuck down, and do what the fuck she was supposed to do to stop being such a fucking loony bitch.
Her current attitude made him fucking hate her even worse. True, that bitch needed to have fucking psycho drugs pumped into her ass through some kind of little device implanted the fuck in her arm.
Or her goddamn brain.
But she was one intelligent fucking bitch. Sarcastic as a motherfucker, but fucking sharp. She knew what the fuck she did to Johnnie. And Megan. Used the fuck out of their sympathy and understanding to play the fuck out of them.
It left Christopher just wanting to shake the fuck out of Kendall on behalf of Johnnie and wanting to choke the fuck out of her over Megan.
“Mr. Caldwell?” Doc Will’s nurse, Viola, called, standing in the doorway of the entrance to the hallway that led to the exam rooms.
“Yo.” He got to his feet and headed through the door, finding the décor arresting with artful photos of babies lining the dark yellow walls that was trimmed in cherry wood.
Instead of an exam room, Viola led him to the OB’s office. Her wooden desk had her nameplate, a calendar, and a phone. Medical books filled one of the bookshelves. Another bookshelf held family photos and bullshit knick-knacks that girls liked. Her degrees lined one wall. Beneath them sat a couch, which made him think of the couch in his office. The one he liked to fuck Megan on.
Megan. She better fucking be okay.
“You fuckin’ sure I ain’t needin’ to kill no motherfucker, doc?” he asked fifteen minutes later after Doc Will breezed in and settled behind her desk.
She cleared her throat, squirming uncomfortably in her desk chair. She was a pretty bitch, with smooth toffee-colored skin, and hair she kept in neat braids. In the days after Patrick’s death and during the months Megan had healed, the OB had been right there whenever he or Megan needed her. Doc Will had his cell phone number and he had hers for times such as these.
He’d called and requested an appointment. His worry was greater than some quick fucking phone call.
“Dr. Howerton is my friend, Mr. Caldwell. I assure you he takes his job seriously. If something was wrong with Meggie, he’d take care of her. That’s why I referred her to him for her high-risk pregnancies. That isn’t my specialty, but it’s his.”
Christopher hadn’t appreciated the fact that Howerton was a fucking swinging dick and had a license to look up Me
gan’s pussy, but Doc Will and Megan swore it was fine because he was the best in the area and his field. Howerton had delivered the twins and gotten Megan through, so Christopher believed them. Now, he wasn’t so fucking sure.
“I know my fuckin’ girl, doc. She ain’t lookin’ right to me. I swear if he missin’ something that’s wrong with her, I’m fuckin’ him up.”
“Er, does Meggie know you’re here?”
He scowled at the doctor, in no mood for her female bullshit after he had to fuck up Johnnie. “That ain’t what you wantin’ to fuckin’ ask. You wanna know if she aware I’m threatenin’ that motherfucker.”
She pursed her lips. “Perhaps.”
“Look here, Doc Will. I had a rough fuckin’ mornin’. I got dumb fuckheads runnin’ fuckin’ rampant in my outfit. Val took CJ with him and Ryan for ice cream so I could fuckin’ talk to you and maybe calm the fuck down. All this shit annoyin’ the fuck outta me. You gotta take care of my Megan. Whatever else go down, as long as she healthy, I can fuckin’ deal. I’ll give you whatever the fuck you want if you just take a look at her fuckin’ records yourself. And, yeah, she fuckin’ know I’m here.”
Doc Will’s face softened and she smiled at him. “After the year you two have had, I understand your concerns.”
Yeah, after his club had been hit so fucking hard and Megan had gotten shot, then ended up pregnant. Wasn’t this time supposed to be nothing but fucking parties, spending money and focusing on family? The season of fucking cheer. Somehow, the fucking memo had been missed cuz, so far, bullshit outweighed cheerfulness.
Christopher had rushed to get rid of Megan’s hell house, so they’d be surrounded by nothing but happy shit until the beginning of the new year.
How had things gotten so fucking out of hand?
Oh, yeah. His fucking dick had interfered and Johnnie couldn’t handle his bitch. “I need my fuckin’ cock hacked off. You ain’t gotta tell me.”
Doc Will’s eyes twinkled as she laughed. “I don’t intend to tell you any such thing, Mr. Caldwell. I think Meggie is lucky to have you.”
“My ass lucky to have her,” he replied.
She nodded. “You’re lucky to have each other. Better?”
“Yeah.”
“Here’s what I’ll do,” she said after a moment. “I’ll call Burt and ask him to send his notes.”
“Howerton?” he asked for clarification.
“Yes. If I find anything suspicious, I’ll call you, but you have to give me your word there won’t be any bloodshed. I don’t sanction murder.”
“I ain’t askin’ your ass to authorize it. I’m fuckin’ tellin’ you what the fuck my ass’ll do.”
She glared at him, reminding him so much of Roxy he flushed like a bitch.
“How about I call Meggie and tell her you’re threatening the murder of a civilian?”
Civilian, huh? Megan had been clueing Doc Will the fuck in on club language.
He wouldn’t even dignify that with a reply. Folding his arms as if he didn’t care that Megan would be madder than a motherfucker, he stared Doc Will down, satisfied when her face fell and she glanced away first.
“How’s Mr. Taylor?” she asked into the silence. She was Zoann’s doctor, too, as well as Bailey’s, and had been Kendall’s until that cunt decided she was too fucking good to associate with the doctor the other girls went to.
Kendall. Fuck, no matter how much he understood her, he should’ve fucked her up months ago. Now, because of her, he’d shot Johnnie and Brooks. By right, those motherfuckers should’ve been dead. Brooks, at the least. He was like Johnnie where that bitch was concerned—a fucking enabler.
Christopher was going soft in his old fucking age. Just for letting Kendall get away with so fucking much, those two deserved more than fucking bullets in their shoulders. He couldn’t believe the fucking position he was in, one where he had to leave Megan to prevent a goddamn war. If only that fucking money hadn’t already been transferred. Or if their deal hadn’t fallen through once before. When shit like that happened more than once, it made Christopher look weak and left him vulnerable to attack.
The thought made him want to fuck Johnnie up all over again. Somehow, he had to bring his ass home and dampen Megan’s holiday pictures with the news of his fucking departure.
Maybe, he’d kill Kendall, anyway. Fuck it. That was a decision for later. Right now, he had to make sure Megan was looked after in his absence.
“Doc, I gotta go on a unexpected and unplanned, overseas trip. Shit movin’ fast, so I’ll probably leave tomorrow. Megan gotta relationship with you. She trust you as her doctor. Just check on her for me, ‘til I get back.”
“You’ll need to sign release forms for me to order her records, which will be no problem since she has your name down as an authorized representative.”
“Whatever the fuck I gotta do. Need anything else so you can take care of her?”
“I promise I’ll do what I can.
That was all Christopher could ask for. Now, he had to get through the day and then get home and deliver the news to Megan.
Spotting Val and Digger on the park bench not far from where CJ and Ryan ran around, Christopher got out of his pickup and headed toward his RC and SAA. Rory sat between them looking on. Each time the other two circled the bench, Ryan stopped in front of Rory and spoke before taking off again.
As Christopher’s anger wore off, his worry about Johnnie’s condition set in. Brooks, he didn’t give a fuck one way or the other. Motherfucker wasn’t his brother and he was the goddamn assfuck who’d allowed Kendall to start this entire bullshit. Brooks knew Christopher as well as Johnnie. How the fuck the dumb fuck allowed Kendall to convince him she had the power to persuade him to deal with McCallister?
“‘Law!” CJ yelled, spotting him first, and zipping toward him.
Val and Digger glanced over their shoulders as Christopher lifted his boy into his arms. His chubby cheeks were reddened from the chilly air and his exertions, but he threw his arms around Christopher’s neck.
“Hey, boy,” he said gruffly.
“Uncle Val and Ashfuck-Dig took Woey, me, and Wyan for ice cweam. Him got some too. Woey want John-John. Him been cwying. Wyan hug him and say sowwy. Why?”
Setting CJ down as he reached Val and Digger, Christopher shrugged. “Tryna make him feel better.”
“John-John okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Where him at?”
“He busy. He comin’ soon.”
“Him with Ant Kenda?”
Christopher sighed at his son’s twenty questions. “I ain’t too sure,” he responded.
“Why Woey don’t play?”
Because Kendall and Johnnie wanted him to be above all the other kids, especially his. Or at fucking least that’s what Christopher assumed.
Instead of answering his son, he glanced at Johnnie’s kid. He sat perfectly still in a button-down shirt and dark pants, fear gleaming in his eyes.
“Come here, Rory,” Christopher instructed.
The kid didn’t hesitate to follow his orders and scrambled off the bench. When he stopped in front of Christopher, he tipped his head back, tears filling his eyes. A lot of distance existed between Christopher and Rory, and that probably intimidated him, so Christopher crouched down.
“Listen up, your old man fine, hear?”
“Yes, sir,” his little voice trembled out.
Sir. Johnnie and Kendall wanted this boy to call them by their names and show respect to every-fucking-body else. That backwards shit fucking figured. It was right up their fucked up alley.
“Call me Uncle Chris,” Christopher told him.
“‘Kay.” He swallowed. With his reddish blonde hair, blue-gray eyes and fair skin, he was an adorable kid. “O-K,” he said in a drawn out pronunciation of both letters.
“Go fuckin’ run the fuck around and play with your cousins.”
“Kennaw say sit.”
“Whatcha old man say?”
> Rory frowned.
“Johnnie,” Christopher clarified.
“Jo-nee?”
“Yeah, that motherfucker.”
“Fucka mudna!” CJ’s happy yell made Rory jump.
Digger elbowed Val, the two of them snickering. Christopher didn’t show any reaction, not fist-pumping the air in pride or ordering him not to do it as Megan expected. He just shut the fuck up. He’d deal with one kid at a time. At the moment, his wasn’t top priority.
“Make a deal with your lil’ ass,” Christopher began, satisfied when Rory cocked his head to the side. “You go fuckin’ run and play ‘til you fuckin’ drop and I ain’t tellin’ Kendall or Johnnie.”
Not giving Rory a chance to respond, CJ jerked him off the bench. Instead of bouncing up, Rory burst into tears.
Scooping his nephew into his arms and getting to his feet, Christopher grimaced at the kid’s loud cries. CJ and Ryan stood side-by-side, frowning in confusion. “You two, go play.”
They ran off, their loud, happy screams trailing behind them.
It took a few minutes to quiet Rory, but Christopher finally succeeded, thankful when the little boy fell asleep, although he continued to sniffle.
“Jesus H. Christ,” Val said on a sigh. “What the fuck they do to that kid?”
It was what the fuck they wasn’t doing that was the fucking problem. “They ain’t lettin’ him be a kid,” he said simply, adjusting Rory on his shoulder. “But I ain’t come to talk ‘bout them two motherfuckers. I came to see how the fuck John Boy doin’.”
“When we left, he was fine, Prez,” Digger answered. “Cash got the bullet out of him and Brooks.”
“John Boy pissed you off bad,” Val said quietly.
“His bitch pissed me the fuck off bad.”
Digger nodded. “We understand.”
Val gazed at CJ and Ryan, who chased each other in the center of the park. “What now?”
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 281