And, now, this morning…
Hedges interspersed with beach bindweed and lupine sat in the middle of the double entrance circular driveway. The large two-story house with a wrap-around porch and huge, wood case windows shocked Meggie. Christopher’s body tensed as he glided to a stop and let the Harley idle. Spruce trees prevented Meggie from glimpsing the entire side of the house but she heard the ebb and flow of the ocean and suspected the view was magnificent.
Christopher roused himself out of whatever world he’d gone off into and, before long, Meggie was rising from her seat, wincing at her sore butt. His scent clung to her body. Before leaving that morning, she’d taken a nice, long shower. Little good that had done. When they finished breakfast, Christopher made love to her again. She was a disgrace because, as many times as he’d been inside her in the last eighteen hours, she wanted to feel him inside her again.
“Megan!”
Meggie jerked at Patricia’s call. She hurried down the wide steps in a blur of motion, squeezing Christopher’s arm and heading for Meggie.
“Are you all right? You seem awfully pale.”
The two women stared at one another and Meggie’s heart beat fast. They’d met in passing when Christopher was in the hospital, but hadn’t had a chance for any real conversation. Now, she wanted to make a good impression on this woman whose son Meggie had become so attached to.
Patricia grabbed Meggie in a hug, and Meggie sagged against her. She didn’t want to be a baby but she missed her mother’s affection. In all honesty, she’d missed Dinah’s motherly touches for some years now. Hesitant, Meggie returned Patricia’s hug, warmed by the cinnamon scent of her. Patricia was a small-framed woman and it almost seemed impossible she’d given birth to a strapping man like Christopher. Her unlined face worked well with her black hair that showed no sign of graying. Unless she colored it.
“I’m fine.” Stepping back, Meggie looked at her toes, flushing beneath the weight of the woman’s continued study.
She lifted Meggie’s chin and frowned. “Are you sure?”
“She fine, Ma,” Christopher answered with an innocent grin. He sauntered to Meggie and held her waist. “Want some more dick?” he whispered with a silky laugh.
Yes. “No,” she snapped, jerking away from him, mortified he’d ask her such a thing within earshot of his mother.
“Shameless boy,” Patricia chirped, shaking her head.
“Pervert.” Meggie threw the word out of the side of her mouth. She hoped her grin masked the movement of her lips, even as she prayed for the ground to swallow her.
“It’s all good, Megan,” Christopher promised. He kissed the tip of her nose before stepping around her and lifting his mother off her feet, displaying more emotion than Meggie had ever seen. He kissed her, a loud smack on her cheek, before setting her on solid ground again. “How my favorite girl?”
It was then, in that moment, Meggie lost her heart to Christopher. Her feelings for him went beyond mere friendship, attachment, and lust. Some people were meant to rise up and shine, glittering as brilliantly as the stars in the night sky. They reached pinnacles of fame and fortune, leaving behind bright memories long after they were gone. In Christopher’s case, it was more like infamy. Few knew him beyond the fringe world he lived in. And, yet, those who knew him, really knew him, loved him. As Meggie loved him. As Patricia, Johnnie, Val, Digger, and Mortician. They all loved him in different ways, but he was still their shining star; they wanted him happy and safe and at peace. Whatever he wanted, they wanted for him.
Overwhelmed with her new discovery, Meggie backed away, allowing Christopher and his mother private space. Patricia’s hand lay against her son’s cheek and he was bending a little so she could reach him. Tears glinted in her eyes, but couldn’t hide the reverence and awe.
Patricia stepped back and Christopher raised his head. Seeing Meggie wasn’t near, he turned and beckoned her closer. The moment Meggie drew near, he enveloped them in a bear hug.
“I’m so sorry I hurt you, Ma. But I been dealin’ with serious shit. It’s been fuckin’–”
“Enough foul language, son,” Patricia chastised. “I can only take so much.”
Christopher’s face flushed and Meggie’s mouth fell open. Was he…No, he couldn’t be…blushing? He was. Unable to stop it, peals of laughter broke from her. He tried to shut her up with the stink eye. That didn’t stop her, so he just let her and his mother go and scowled.
“Ma,” he growled after a moment, “this Megan Foy.”
All humor gone, Megan blushed herself at the tenderness in his voice and in his look.
“Megan, this my beautiful ma, Patricia Donovan.”
He acted as if they hadn’t met, but his formal introduction showed how much respect he gave to his mother.
“I’ve met her when you were in the hospital, Christopher.”
Megan nodded. “Is there anything I can help you–” Her voice trailed off and she frowned when a Navigator pulled to a stop behind Christopher’s motorcycle. Johnnie emerged and headed straight for her.
“Megs!” he greeted cheerfully, ignoring Christopher’s narrowed gaze to kiss her cheek.
Her blush deepened. “Hi, Johnnie,” she mumbled.
Johnnie’s grin widened.
“Ma,” Christopher snarled, “take Megan inside. Show her to our room.”
Patricia nodded and indicated they go inside. Without a word, Meggie followed.
All the way upstairs and into the bedroom, Patricia spoke about the plans she had for the holidays, culminating in a big family dinner on Christmas Day with all of Christopher’s sisters and nieces.
Meggie gaped around the huge room. It had dark hardwood floors, a high ceiling with exposed beams, a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows with a glass door leading to a private balcony with an absolutely magnificent view. The windy day sent white capped waves foaming onto the sand.
Patricia cleared her throat.
“I’m sorry for letting my mind wander,” Meggie blurted. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t ever seen such raw beauty and elegant luxury before. Farah was wealthy, after all. But she couldn’t reconcile the man she knew Christopher to be with this house. Besides, Patricia’s attitude made her distinctly uncomfortable. “Your house is beautiful.”
She smiled and nodded. “Thank you.”
Another awkward silence fell between them and Meggie shifted her weight. She thought of ideas to jumpstart the conversation, but she didn’t want to say the wrong thing and make the disapproval she detected turn into dislike.
She thrust her chin toward the windows. “The view is magnificent.” Safe topic. When in doubt, discuss the scenery. The woman who’d greeted her outside was so different from the woman now facing her.
“You’re very young, Megan.”
Not this again. She’d gone through the same thing with Ellen and Kiera. Maybe, she should just paint the number 18 on her forehead, so everyone would stop speculating.
Patricia lifted an eyebrow and Meggie gritted her teeth, knowing she had no choice but to answer the silent question.
“I’m eighteen,” she said firmly. She wished Patricia would leave. Meggie needed a bath and a nap. She was sure she’d see things from a different perspective then.
Instead of leaving, the woman began pacing. “You’re Big Joe’s girl?”
Another question she was sick to death of. Still, she nodded.
Patricia paused in front of Meggie and took her hands in her own. “Christopher has never introduced me to a girl he’s dating.”
Meggie smiled, still hesitant with this woman, but warmed by her words.
“I don’t want you hurt,” she went on. “I adore my son. I have from the moment I held him in my arms. But, my Christopher, he…does things. Mean, vile things.”
Meggie pulled her hands free and shook her head in denial. “Please,” she whispered. “I-I don’t want to hear it.” She’d already been exposed to Christopher’s dark world and still had nightmares from
the retaliation he received because of it. Dead, bloodied men would haunt her dreams for the rest of her life.
“You have to listen to me,” Patricia snapped, turning away and crossing the room. “Are you prepared to stand by my son no matter what? Suppose you find out something even more horrible than what you already know?”
An unspoken message lay in those sharp words, but Meggie couldn’t fathom what it was. Patricia stared at her, almost through her. The worry and sorrow in her eyes frightened Meggie. “Wh-what are you trying to say?”
Patricia swallowed. “Answer me.”
Meggie knew she’d get answers from Christopher if she told him about this odd conversation, but, then he’d either get angry with her for being annoyed with his mother. Or he’d get angry with his mother and then Meggie would be responsible for a rift between them. She’d answer the woman, and, then, keep her eyes and ears open to solve this riddle Patricia challenged her with.
She raised her chin. “For as long as he wants me, I’ll be at his side. Whatever he needs, I’ll be there for him.”
“Your family–”
“Christopher is my family,” she interrupted.
Patricia’s brown eyes never wavered from Meggie’s face. “He does things. He’s done things.” She huffed in a breath. “If they’re discovered, it will affect everyone.” Tears filled her eyes and she hugged herself. “You say he’s your family but this life isn’t for everyone. You have to be a strong man to face the decisions my son has faced and lived to tell. He’s happier than I’ve ever seen him. You’re good for him. Just promise me, you’ll stand by his side no matter what.”
Though unsettled by Patricia’s fierceness, Megan nodded, sure in the knowledge she’d never turn her back on Christopher.
Patricia headed for the door. Hand on knob, she asked, “do you cook?”
Finally, a decent topic. “Yes.”
“Well, you’re on vacation.”
“I know,” she said timidly. “But I-I’d like to cook a meal for Christopher. And you, of course,” she added when Patricia bristled.
“My son is very particular about his food, Megan. About as particular as I am about my kitchen. I have your vow to stand by Christopher and you know where we stand with the cooking and my kitchen, dear. We’ll get along fine as long as you remember this discussion.”
Giving Meggie no chance to respond, Momzilla walked out of the room and closed the door quietly behind her.
CHRISTOPHER WATCHED HIS MOM LEAD Megan into the house, a breath away from choking the shit out of Johnnie. For no reason other than the fact Megan liked him, and his cousin was the type of college- educated, intelligent asshole she should have.
He turned to his bike to busy his hands with removing her backpack from one of the saddlebags. “How Iona?”
“Married and pregnant,” Johnnie answered on a sigh.
The news startled Christopher out of his jealousy. “Not to you or by you.”
“Nope. To some nerdy fuck.” Johnnie shrugged. “If that’s what she wants, I’m happy for her.”
His cousin had turned nomad three years ago to please his girlfriend, a beautiful, quiet girl who had turned Johnnie’s head the moment he’d met her. She hadn’t wanted him in the club, so he’d limited his time there, backing away completely with Boss’s shenanigans. Though it worked out in the long run—Johnnie now managed the legitimate business they used to launder money—he still hadn’t gotten the girl he’d wanted.
He gripped the strap of the backpack and faced Johnnie. “Stay away from Megan.”
A slow grin spread across Johnnie’s features. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offered one to Christopher then lit both of them. “Aunt Patricia invited me over for dinner,” he explained on a whiff of smoke that the ocean breeze caught and carried away. “Since you were coming to town.”
“You and me, we always been close,” Christopher began, gesturing with the hand that held the cigarette between two fingers. “We cool long as you ain’t fuckin’ with Megan.”
Unruffled, Johnnie clapped Christopher on the back. “Relax. Megs–”
“Don’t fuckin’ call her that!”
He laughed and Christopher knew Johnnie was yanking his chains.
“Come on, asshole. Time to go inside,” Christopher ordered, not bothering to see if Johnnie followed.
When he walked into the house, sunlight streamed in all directions from the numerous windows in the open floor plan. The hardwood floors gleamed and everything smelled fresh and clean. Across the room, Christopher saw the dunes beyond the deck, the foamy Pacific crashing onto the sand.
If anyone, he had Boss to thank for this house. He’d gone along with Christopher’s idea to begin the hydrogrow operation. Instead of moving herb, they grew it inside one of the warehouses on club property. That first year had surpassed everyone’s expectations and Christopher immediately purchased the medical lab. He needed a legitimate front to make major purchases. Fucking cops might’ve looked the other fucking way thanks to payoffs, but the Feds wouldn’t be so easy. Boss hadn’t complained. He knew how much Christopher wanted a house of his own. He knew, too, that Christopher wouldn’t shirk his duties to the club or forget about the Dwellers’ collaborative interests and other businesses they worked at to “earn” money.
If it hadn’t been for Big Joe’s mentoring and his support behind Christopher…he didn’t finish and, instead, wanted to throw up. He rubbed a hand over his eyes.
“Outlaw,” Johnnie called. He held out a beer. “Go see about your woman. Aunt Patricia said she went to take a bath. Maybe, she needs her back scrubbed or something.”
Grabbing the beer, Christopher forced his thoughts away and nodded, glad Megan remained upstairs. He was pretty sure she needed something and that something was already rising in his pants.
Just as he started upstairs, his mother was starting down.
“Megan is getting settled, son,” she said briskly, pushing her sleeves above her elbows. “Give her a chance to do what girls do after they’ve ridden on the back of a bike for hours.”
Christopher gripped his beer tighter. “C’mon, Ma. Megan won’t mind if I’m in there.”
She squeezed past him. “Follow me. I need to talk to you.”
Speechless, he stared at his mother’s retreating back and emptied the bottle of beer in one, long swig. His very own mother was cock-blocking. Stomping through the great room, past a very amused Johnnie—whom Christopher flipped off—he allowed his mother to lead him to the sun room. Enclosed in glass, the yellow and white décor reminded him of Patricia. He disposed of the bottle in the wicker trash can and stuffed his hands in his pockets, gazing at the three-tiered shelf of pictures. She had photos of her parents, the girls’ father, him and his sisters as well as Big Joe, Johnnie, Val, Mortician, and Digger. He’d need to add Megan’s photo to the collection. Speaking of Megan, she’d probably like this room, too. Beach grass broke out from the high rise of the dunes. On a quiet day, the roar of the ocean slipped through the glass, filling the room with the sounds of nature.
Shadows haunted his mother’s eyes. “Big Joe’s daughter.”
Those three words fell like stones between them and Christopher’s eyes widened. “Ma, what–”
“You killed him. You killed her father. How long do you think she’ll stick around when she discovers his blood on your hands?”
No. No. NO! Christopher wasn’t prepared for this. The anger and condemnation in his mother’s eyes almost killed him. This was why he’d stayed away. He hadn’t been able to face her, knowing what he’d done to Joseph Foy. In a life filled with hurting the people who meant the most to him just by being conceived, he hadn’t been able to face Patricia with Boss’s blood on his hands. He’d grieved for the man well before he’d had to make that fateful decision. Now, that grief came back, worse, almost bringing him to his knees. The pain of what had been was nothing compared to the pain of what could’ve been, what would never be because he’d killed Megan’
s father.
He held out his hands. “It was me or him.” His throat worked and he willed his mother to believe him. He didn’t know how she’d found out. She didn’t know anyone from the club, other than Boss, Johnnie, Val, Digger and Mortician, and they all knew the truth. At least, the live motherfuckers. Boss knew, too, but the motherfucker was dead so he couldn’t fucking open his goddamn mouth.
Had one of his boys opened their mouths to his ma?
Christopher had moved her out of her small house in Hortensia to his house here to keep her safe when things had gotten bad with Boss and the rival clubs.
She came and squeezed her arms around him, almost like she never wanted to let him go, and sobbed against his chest. Christopher just stood there, not returning her hug, staring straight ahead, until she settled down and got control of herself again.
She roamed away from him, faced the windows. “Megan’s young. She doesn’t know about your world. Boss’s world.”
He hadn’t thought his mother knew about “his” world, either. Not as much as she sounded like she did.
“She’ll hate you,” she continued.
All the joy he’d felt this past week vanished. Even that shopping bullshit with Megan felt good because of the smile it put on her face. She was happy so he was happy. Now, that was gone and he didn’t think he’d ever get it back again.
“I was told she went to the club searching for her father.”
Although that wasn’t a secret, whoever was passing information on to his mother had been fucking thorough. “Yeah. So what?”
“Her stepfather abuses her. Basically, she’s homeless.”
Christopher drew in a sharp breath, his stupid dream of having Megan by his side in the future already fucked. Fury settled into him and he was so fucking sorry he’d driven to this motherfucker he wanted to kick something. “She ain’t homeless,” he snapped. “She livin’ at the club with me.”
His mother faced him and drew herself up. “Do you think she’s with you because she wants to be with you?” she asked quietly, sniffling. “Or because she has nowhere else to go? Why would this young girl, with her entire life ahead of her, fall in love with a man who lives on the fringe elements of society, son?”
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 21
