“Fuck, fine,” Christopher grumbled. “To answer your fuckin’ question, me and Megan got a personal bet goin’, so I gotta find a way to help you motherfuckers win if I wanna collect. If I lose, my ass gettin’ a month-long pussy lockout.” His dumb fucking idea. Megan had been as shocked by his words as he was. But he’d been a confident assfuck, thinking John Boy had shit under fucking control. Then, he’d put his own fucking measures in place. He’d just forgotten one fucking thing. Not a motherfucker in the room knew how the fuck to cook. Diesel better make a good fucking spy. “If I win, I told her she’d have to suck my cock every day for a month without me eatin’ her pussy before I fuck her.” He was such a lying motherfucker. Not tasting Megan’s pussy for a month was like not breathing air for a second.
But his girl was a competitive little motherfucker. She actually fucking believed his dumb ass and fucking accepted the challenge. That fucking meant he had to stoop to low fucking levels to win. The thought of being locked out of Megan’s cunt for an entire fucking month put him the fuck on edge.
Before anybody responded to the terms of his private bet, the door opened, bringing Diesel and CJ in. Knowing what he’d asked of Diesel, Christopher lifted a brow and Diesel nodded.
“Hey, boy,” Christopher said, greeting CJ.
“’Law! Mommie cooking a lot of food. I wanted to stay and help her, like Rory doing with Ant Kenda, but MegAnn say I’ma boy so I gotta be with the boys.”
Un-fuckin-likely. Megan must’ve been onto Christopher so she sent CJ to spy.
Fuck!
“Um, CJ, I got some fuckin’ ice cream sandwiches in the fuckin’ freezer for you, along with gummi bears and those lil fuckin’ teddy grahams. In the other kitchen. Run and get the motherfuckers, then come help me and your uncles.”
CJ’s eyes lit up and he scooted backwards, out the door they’d just came in.
“Fuck, Prez, you trying to send your kid into sugar shock?” Mort asked.
“Megan’s going to have your ass,” Johnnie promised.
“Shut the fuck up.” Christopher had to work fast. He waved Diesel over. “You got the recipes?”
Grinning, Diesel pulled out his phone. “I snapped all the recipes Aunt Meggie and the other girls had in the kitchen. She almost caught me.”
Mort’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. “Prez, what the fuck you did?”
“What the fuck you think?” he whispered, hearing CJ’s little boots scuffling around in the small kitchen. “I had Diesel steal the recipes Roxanne left.”
“Oooooo, Meggie going to be fucking pissed with you,” Digger chortled as CJ rushed back in, carrying his treats.
Christopher snickered. “This a battle, motherfucker. My girl know that and winner takin’ fuckin’ all.”
“How are things going, Knox?” Uncle Avalon asked as they, along with his father, his son, and Brooks Redding, sat at their club’s favorite table, waiting to be served a late breakfast.
Being a member of the prestigious country club was a time-honored Harrington tradition. Several generations of the men in his family had served on the board-of-directors. One day, Knox would take his father’s place and help to make decisions.
Grant squirmed in his seat, a mini version of Knox in his trousers, button down, tie, and cardigan.
“Fine, Uncle.”
“They’re even better now that my grandson and daughter-in-law are in town,” his father said, smiling.
“They’ll be leaving in two days,” Knox said sharply as their waitress set another pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice in the middle of the table.
His father cleared his throat and nodded to Grant, who looked suddenly so sad.
“Er, Brooks, my boy,” Uncle Avalon said quickly, “you’re mighty quiet over there.”
Not only was he quiet, but he also looked out of place at the exclusive country club. To Knox, it seemed as if he’d never been a part of this world, as unkempt and harried as he looked now.
“I don’t have much to say, Avalon,” Brooks said quietly, a broken man trying to retain a shred of dignity when he had none left.
Pouring himself another juice, Uncle Avalon grinned. “That might soon change.”
Because of what Uncle Avalon thought Knox could provide. Would provide. But Knox no longer saw the sense of the witch hunt. It wouldn’t bring the lost firm back. Nor would it help them to find Kyler. Perhaps, if he’d gone after the club monetarily he could stay on his course. Not now. He couldn’t break up a family, in the interest of revenge.
“Do you want me to tell him, Knox, or should I?” Uncle Avalon asked into the silence.
“Neither,” Knox said. “This isn’t the time or the place to discuss business.”
“What business might that be?” Brooks asked, curious. “If it involves me working with you, that’s impossible. I’m now exclusive to the MC.”
“I want to get this out the way, Knox,” Uncle Avalon said without remorse. “The womenfolk are at the house, doing their thing. Over dinner, we’ll have them underfoot. We need to get the matter at hand discussed here and now.”
“There’s nothing to discuss,” Knox insisted. “Not without you and I talking first.”
Uncle Avalon shook his head. “I’m paying you, Knox. That means I call the shots.”
“What are you two up to?” his father asked. “Avalon, what scheme do you have my son involved in now?”
Knox sat up straighter. Kendall’s accusations against Uncle Avalon returned to him. He’d consoled himself by remembering Kendall would do anything to protect her husband. Although he needed to cover his bases, it was possible the woman had lied about the recording to make him back off. “More to the point, how can you afford to pay me if you suffered the same hardship as Brooks?”
Uncle Avalon’s eyes twinkled. “Wondering when you were finally going to put two and two together. I was afraid I’d wasted my money on some unschooled PI.”
“What are you talking about?” Knox asked.
“I want that club brought to justice for what those criminals put my good friends through.” Uncle Avalon smiled, leaned over, and clapped Brooks on the back. “I opened a shadow account. Took control of a few of the MCs accounts without your knowledge. Easy enough to do when Kendall would give statements to your secretary, who passed them on to me. I’ve been skimming money from them for months now. Good thing I had such foresight. I’d be as pathetic as you and Charlotte if I hadn’t put my operation into place.”
With each word Uncle Avalon spoke, Brooks grew a little paler and Knox got angrier. All these weeks the man had been deriding the bikers as crooks when he was no better.
“Avalon,” Brooks said in a thin voice, actually trembling. “Please. Take it from me. You don’t want to screw over Outlaw. He’ll kill you.”
“Damn, I wished you were tapped now, Knox,” Uncle Avalon said with regret.
“What?” Brooks asked, a ghastly shade of white. “Knox…? Oh my God, please don’t t-tell me you were recording our conversations. Don’t tell me Outlaw was right.” Not waiting for Knox to respond, he turned back to his uncle. “Stop this nonsense, now! I demand it of you. We’ve been friends for too long for me to let you lead yourself to a grisly death.”
“Do you want to disappoint your wife? Charlotte came to me with a tale of mayhem. They ruined our firm. Burned your house down. Ruined you. She thinks they’re responsible for Kyler’s disappearance.”
Tears rushed to Brooks’ eyes. “Kyler’s not coming back and you won’t be either if you keep screwing over Outlaw.” He turned to Knox. “Please, give up this…this madness. I’ve already talked to Charlotte. She has to understand the danger she’s in. More than Roxy will go after her.”
At the mention of Roxy’s name, Knox tensed.
“Don’t talk about that trollop,” his father growled.
“Roxy’s a good woman,” Knox defended hotly, “and I’ll thank you to stop talking about her like she’s trash.” He glared at his uncle. “As
for my investigation, this ends now. With me and anyone else. I’m not turning in men who seem to have more honor than you can ever hope for. You’re stealing. Embezzling money.”
“And they’re killers. Thieves. Murderers,” Uncle Avalon snapped back. “Don’t let that woman turn you against what’s right. You have honor and God on your side. They’re nothing but devils.”
Shoving his chair back, Brooks got to his feet. “I’m not listening to this. What happened to me, to Kyler, we brought on ourselves. We knew who we were dealing with when we agreed to represent them. I’ve been hating myself and feeling guilty for your losses, Avalon, when you’re doing things that would also get us killed. If you want to continue, that’s up to you.” Without another word, Brooks walked away, his head bowed.
Knox got to his feet. “Come on, son.” Once Grant stood, he looked at his father and uncle. “Uncle Avalon, I’ve always respected you, but I draw the line at ruining families for a personal vendetta. You’ll leave those people alone or I’ll go to Outlaw myself and turn you in. Stop embezzling their money. Brooks is right. They will kill you.” He looked at his father. “Dad, I love you and Mom. The only thing I regret is not being able to see my son more. I’m sure Callie will once again do things her way.” He didn’t want to say too much in front of Grant about Callie. She was, after all, his mother. “I wish I could make it right. Find a way to get her to split our time. There’s nothing I want more than to be a father to my son.” Like Outlaw was to CJ. “But there’s someone I want just as much, and that’s Roxy. She regrets her behavior the night she met you, but your behavior was just as regrettable. She makes, made, me happy until I screwed it up.” He sighed. “I wish you would’ve given her a chance.”
Grabbing Grant’s hand, he started off.
“Knox,” his father called.
He didn’t bother turning around.
“The son I know isn’t a quitter. I’ll see to it that Callie does what she’s supposed to. You want that woman? Then, by God, go and get her.”
“Dad, I said some awful things to her.” Even now, he cringed when he thought of them. “Roxy isn’t the type of woman who’ll let me back into her good graces easily. She’ll make me grovel.”
“Well, hell, boy, I’d prefer you to grovel than to look and sound so damned defeated. We Harringtons don’t let anything stop us from our goals.”
“What about Mom? She was abominable to Roxanne.”
“Leave Joan to me. You’re our only child. If you’re happy, we’re happy.”
Knox might’ve taken his father at his word, if he hadn’t seen the silent exchange that went on between his uncle and father.
Unease slid into him. Knox hoped it was only the stress of the morning, but something told him trouble was brewing.
Chapter Thirty-One
Two hours into cooking and Christopher knew they were fucked for every dish except the turkey. He and Mort had decided to fry three of the motherfuckers, while John Boy and Val kept two to bake. But it was the other shit—the fucking rice, potatoes, vegetables, and bread—that fucked everything up the ass.
They stood around the butcher-block table, staring at the food they’d cooked before glancing between each other. Foam from the fire extinguisher covered most of the dishes. The opened door aired out the smoke and charred scent.
CJ sat on a stool in front of Christopher. His boy tilted his head back again and fucking again, searching for Christopher’s reaction. What the fuck could he say? The food they’d cooked sure the fuck didn’t look like what the fuck his girl put out on the table.
“Are you sure you got the right recipes, Diesel?” Mort asked, staring at the blackened rice.
“Yes!” Diesel answered with indignation. “Aunt Meggie had everything out and these were the recipes.”
Mortician scratched his jaw and glanced at the rice, the worst of all the dishes. “What the rice say again, Prez? Or was that one of the recipes?”
Frowning, Christopher picked up Diesel’s phone and scrolled through the recipes. He hadn’t wanted the photos to be texted to him because Megan had access to his phone. Once he started enjoying the party, he might forget to erase the evidence of his deception. “It’s right here, Mort. One fuckin’ cup of water to four fuckin’ cups of rice. Cover and cook on high for thirty fuckin’ minutes.”
“Dee got MegAnn’s recipe?” CJ asked.
“Yeah, boy,” Christopher responded, distracted. Not only would he lose the bet and find Megan’s pussy chained the fuck up but his brothers and their wives would be arriving soon, looking for a meal.
Digger stuck a fork into one of the two baked turkeys, scowling at the blood pooling onto the platter. “What the fuck we going to do, Outlaw? You not the only one with a side bet with his woman. I’m scared to fuck Bunny right now. Don’t want to poke a hole in the baby’s head. If I lose, I got to fuck her. If I win, I get to wait until after she deliver and recover.”
“What kind of cock you think you got, fool?” Mortician snapped. “That baby safe in her belly whether you fuck her or not.”
“I don’t believe that,” Digger retorted, grabbing a burned roll and trying to bite it. Flakes of pastry flew everywhere and he blew crumbs from his mouth. “My cock huge. I think it could touch the baby.”
Mortician glared at him. “As of this moment, you not related to me, motherfucker. I can’t have dumb fuckheads in my family.”
“Shut the fuck up, both of you,” Christopher ordered. “If you okay not fuckin’ Bunny that’s your motherfuckin’ business. I ain’t went through all this fuckin’ trouble of stealin’ Megan recipes to lose to her. You know what the fuck that mean?”
“What gave you the idea to make that bet?” Johnnie asked, two breaths from laughing, which made him two steps from dying.
Christopher would kill him for finding his panic amusing.
“Yeah, Prez,” Mortician started. “That don’t sound like you.”
“I thought this motherfucker knew what the fuck he was doing,” Christopher yelled, pointing to Johnnie.
Mort hung his head. “Me, too. Me and Bailey got a side bet going, too. If I win, she strip for me. Complete with stripper pole. If she win, we flip it and I strip for her.”
“Jesus, are me and Val the only ones who didn’t use this as a prurient opportunity?” Johnnie barked.
“Uh, what prurient mean?” Val asked.
“Salacious,” Johnnie answered shortly.
Val snapped his brows together.
“Fuckin’ sexual,” Christopher said with impatience.
“Oh. Maybe, you the only motherfucker, John Boy,” Val responded. “Zoann got to play a naughty nurse to my dirty patient if I win. If she win, I got to take her back to the cabin we went to for our honeymoon.”
“You fucks are pathetic.” Johnnie shook his head. “My relationship with Kendall transcends such juvenile behavior. I wanted to do this strictly to encourage her cooking.”
“What the fuck ever. You coulda wanted to do this bullshit to show your cock to her fuckin’ ass in the middle of Pike Street Market, the result still the fuckin’ same. We fuckin’ losin’.” Christopher thought for a moment. They were looking at him, anyway, as if he had the fucking answers to every-fucking-thing. “This what the fuck we gonna do. We takin’ the fried fuckin’ turkeys and puttin’ out for motherfuckers to eat. The rest of this shit, we bringin’ to the meatshack until we can get fuckin’ rid of it later. I’ma make a few fuckin’ calls. See who wanna make some quick fuckin’ money. Some motherfuckers gotta be cookin’ some fuckin’ food or know motherfuckers that is. We buy the shit from them, then tell the fuckin’ girls we fuckin’ cooked it.”
Mort’s eyes lit up and he grinned. “I’ll drink to that,” he said, raising his bottle in a mock toast before drinking from it.
Digger eyed the burned peas. “This going to work?”
“Fuck, it better,” Christopher growled, then started scrolling through his phone to find a few numbers.
�
�Outlaw,” Potter interrupted, walking into the kitchen.
“Yeah?”
“That Knox motherfucker is asking to see you and he has a kid with him, asking for CJ.”
Christopher wasn’t in the mood to entertain that deceitful motherfucker, but CJ’s eyes lit up at Potter’s words. “Send them the fuck in,” he instructed.
“Prez, I might beat this motherfucker to a fucking pulp,” Mortician said once Potter left. “He upset Roxanne.”
“His kid with him, so we ain’t pulverizin’ the motherfucker right now.” Christopher wasn’t about to fuck up Megan’s Thanksgiving by winning the competition and making a motherfucker bleed. As long as Knox came in peace, he wouldn’t blow him the fuck away. “Let’s see what the fuck he want.”
“I didn’t know his ass had a child,” Digger commented.
“I ain’t either, ‘til I saw them motherfuckers yesterday.”
“Outlaw?” Knox called from the doorway.
Christopher turned as CJ spotted Grant. “Ashfuck Grant!” he screamed happily.
“Fuck, lil bro,” Digger said. “I’m jealous. You calling another motherfucker ashfuck.”
CJ grinned at Digger, while Knox scowled.
“What the fuck you doin’ here today, motherfucker?” Christopher asked.
“Grant wanted to spend some time with CJ.” Knox couldn’t meet Christopher’s eyes, raising alarms. “I…we can leave if it’s a problem.”
“CJ, boy, have some fuckin’ fun with Grant.”
“Uncle John-John, I want Ro,” CJ announced, sliding from the stool. He stood on tiptoe and clutched the edge of the table so he could see Johnnie. “Aunt Kenda say him can’t come with me and Dee. Him had to stay and protect his ma and aunts.”
Johnnie winced. “I’ll call Kendall to tell her to let Rory come to the club. This is where he should be, anyway.”
“Where’s Ryan and Devon?” Val asked.
“Aunt Zo punish them. Rye punched Dev in the mouth and Dev threw a rock at Rye. They was cussing and kicking and screaming and made Aunt Zo fall down. Aunt Zo was maaadddd.”
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 405