Lately, all he’d read was sadness and pain.
Now, this.
She swallowed and shook her head, rattling off Mortician’s cell phone number, the only person she had to call right now. Zoann had a meeting with her supervisors to discuss the possibility of her returning to work. Bailey was in class. Val was…Meggie wasn’t sure where. She just couldn’t call him right now, no matter how unfair her feelings were. Arrow was with her mother. Dinah hated her and, even if she didn’t, she wouldn’t have the wherewithal to help her out. Bunny was at the tattoo shop. And…Christopher?
Her Christopher? He was around. If she called, he’d come running.
Alone, she put her panties and jeans on, then slipped on her wedged sandals and opened the door. Forcing a smile, she nodded to the nurses who sat at their station and headed to Dr. Will’s private office.
The physician sat behind her desk, her braids clipped up, her brow furrowed, as she wrote in a chart. She looked up and nodded to the seat in front of her desk. “Have a seat.”
Meggie hovered in the doorway, her hand on the knob. “I’m pregnant.”
“Yes.” Dr. Will cocked her head, curiosity brimming in her eyes. “Let’s talk about your options.”
“Op-options?” Meggie disliked the unspoken meaning in that as much as she hated having to face Christopher with the news. “We’ve been very careful…except one time.”
“One time is all it takes.” Dr. Will’s kindness made Meggie’s heart drop. Not that she wasn’t always kind. Even when Christopher was snapping at her, the doctor’s bedside manner never changed. “Will you come in and close the door so we can talk in private?”
“Are you suggesting I terminate it?”
“That’s my recommendation,” Dr. Will answered, blunt and firm, tapping her pen on the opened folder.
She beckoned Meggie in again.
“I can’t,” Meggie admitted. “You have my permission to tell me here.”
“HIPAA laws prevent—”
“Please. I can’t…I know what you want me to do. And if you lived with me, you’d know there’s no privacy. My husband’s brothers know everything, so I don’t mind if you tell me while I’m standing here and—”
“Breathe, Meggie,” Dr. Will interrupted with a smile. Everyone knew how she babbled when her nerves were overwrought. “You suffered a very serious injury to your uterus,” she confided in a lowered tone. “Because you’ve had Placental Abruption once, you’re at a greater risk for it to happen again. You’re healing…No,” she decided. “You’ve healed, but I want to minimize the risk of complications. If anything else happens to you, I can’t guarantee you won’t need a hysterectomy. Nor can I guarantee you’ll survive.”
Swiping at the tears already streaming down her face, Meggie nodded and leaned against the door.
“Meggie, Mr. Mortician is in the waiting room,” Viola announced from behind her.
Calling Mortician hadn’t been a good idea. Meggie realized this too late. She’d put him in a precarious position because she’d called him so she wouldn’t have to face Christopher. But her husband would take it as an infraction and think Mortician was disrespecting him. No matter how much they cared about her, their allegiance was to each other, most especially Christopher.
She sobbed a little harder. Christopher didn’t deserve this. More importantly, she had him and their son to think about. The baby inside her…the baby inside her didn’t deserve the choices she faced, either.
A tug.
Meggie blinked, trying to focus through her tears. Dr. Will had gotten out of her seat and was guiding her to the chair she’d been coaxing Meggie to take. Too weak to do anything else, she dropped into it and sobbed into her hands, comforted by the doctor’s arms.
A few moments later, Dr. Will released her. She looked up, not wanting to lose the reassurance of the OB’s arms. She didn’t have her mother to go to, that was certain. The guilty thought pushed bile from her belly and she dry heaved.
“Meggie girl, calm yourself.”
Meggie looked up just as the club enforcer kneeled in front of her. His dreads were queued, as usual, the diamond studs in his ears bringing attention to his handsome face. She fell into his arms and buried her face against his neck.
“I’m having another baby,” she cried. She’d wanted this and hadn’t made a secret of it, but having Christopher’s feelings about another pregnancy out there—although she’d suspected it—made all the difference in the world. Hearing Dr. Will’s ominous possibilities didn’t help, either.
Mortician tightened his arms around her, but pulled away from her a heartbeat later. He got to his feet and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Prez a little distracted right now, so I’m gonna help you pull yourself back together before you get back to the club.”
The Bobs surrounding her husband flashed in her head and she flinched. All her energy had been used up by today’s events, so she remained silent at Mortician’s declaration.
“Show me the fuck again,” Christopher growled, his nostrils flaring at the sight before him.
“Fuck, Christopher,” Johnnie snapped, hoarse because of Christopher’s throat hold from the night before. Bruises in the shape of Christopher’s fingertips marred Johnnie’s neck. “You sure you want to do this? Megs will be devastated.”
“I don’t give a fuck.”
“I should’ve stayed with Kendall.”
“If you gonna fuckin’ complain ‘bout how the fuck I deal with my girl, then you shoulda fuckin’ stayed with that psycho bitch. Now…” He turned in his seat. “Give it to me a-fuckin-gain.”
“Which part?”
“Every fuckin’ bit you got.”
The sound started again and Christopher’s head pounded as he watched her bent over, his fingers disappearing and delving into her pussy. Only, the fucking him wasn’t Christopher while the fucking her was Megan. His Megan being searched by a soon-to-be-stone-fucking-cold-ass-motherfucking-dead deputy. Not that Megan knew he’d tricked the fucking truth from Zoann.
He glared at Val, the man’s bruised face barely registering. Christopher’s throbbing knuckles barely registered for that matter. Val was fucking lucky Christopher could use the recording to identify the motherfucker who’d touched his girl. Other-fucking-wise, he might’ve laid Val up in a fucking hospital room for a few fucking months for installing cameras in whiny-ass Dinah’s room and Zoann’s old room. Christopher could understand the cameras in Zoann’s room. But his mother-in-law? No fucking way. Megan went in there sometimes dressed in only a robe and nightie. Now, thanks to this fucking recording, Val had seen her pussy a-fucking-gain.
He drew in deep breaths, the realization that Johnnie was also seeing her pussy making him lash out. He threw a backhanded fist against Johnnie’s head and knocked him on his ass.
“You fucking asshole,” Johnnie snarled, getting to his feet and holding his head.
Christopher got to his feet. “Get the fuck outta here, motherfucker.”
Johnnie, on edge himself because of that bitch he had, shoved him back. “Fuck you. What the fuck don’t you understand that I love Kendall? I don’t fucking want Megan, fuckhead.”
“The fuck you don’t,” Christopher yelled, barreling into Johnnie and throwing him against the wall near the makeshift bar in the conference room. The conference room that Johnnie had walked into fifteen minutes ago while Christopher had been watching the deputy touching Megan for the third fucking time. The deputy’s face blocked out Johnnie’s and Christopher growled, slamming his fist down again. “I’m fuckin’ killin’ you.”
A burning pain slid through Christopher’s arm. Before he had time to process his stab wound, he’d been knocked the fuck on his ass on the floor. Johnnie stood above him, his eye and cheek swollen, blood dripping from his nose. He was one livid motherfucker with a fucking Glock aimed at Christopher’s head.
“Jesus H. Christ!” Val called. “Put that shit away, John Boy.”
“I don’t fucking
take kindly to having my fucking ass beat for no fucking reason,”
“Don’t fuckin’ give a fuck,” Christopher barked, kicking Johnnie’s thigh and rolling out of the way. Motherfucker fired on fucking reflex. Jumping to his feet, he pulled his own nine. “Put your fuckin’ piece away now,” he growled. He cocked it, only then realizing what he’d done—what had almost happened to him or Johnnie because of it. Still…“Second fuckin’ time I had to pull my fuckin’ piece on you, Johnnie. Third time the fuckin’ charm. Hear me? Now, put that motherfucker a-fuckin-way or third time comin’ real fuckin’ soon.”
Fury lit Johnnie’s eyes but he complied. Val sagged into a chair and dropped his head into his hands while Christopher shoved his piece in the pocket inside of his cut.
Johnnie’s gaze slid to Christopher’s arm, reminding him the motherfucker had stabbed him. He glanced at the blood oozing from the wound.
“Maybe, Megs should fucking leave you, fuckhead,” Johnnie growled. “Maybe, you’re getting fucking tired of her and you’re just a possessive motherfucker where she’s concerned. If you don’t remember how close you’ve been allowing other women lately, I fucking do. Getting a hard dick because of the Bobs and fucking joking with that girl about it rather than knocking her on her ass like you did my woman when she did the same thing.”
“John Boy, you got a fucking death wish?” Val questioned, creeping between them, right the fuck in Christopher’s line of fire. “Outlaw, calm down.”
“You fuckin’ feel that way, too, Val?” Christopher demanded, not that he gave a fuck how they fucking felt. But his sanity was returning in slow degrees and, with it, the knowledge that he and Johnnie always looked out for one another. One didn’t try to annihilate the other.
“The way you been acting with other bitches has shocked me,” Val admitted, not meeting Christopher’s gaze. “Don’t matter why. You just never acted like that since you kept Meggie.”
“Get the fuck outta my face. Both you motherfuckers.”
“You bleeding,” Val went on as Johnnie stalked out of the room and slammed the door behind him. “Let me get some bandages and shit, and see to that.”
Christopher nodded and returned to his seat. Snatching up his bottle of tequila, he drank from the bottle then poured the alcohol over the stab wound, hissing at the stinging pain. Johnnie’s words banged in his head. He couldn’t fucking believe the motherfucker had the fucking audacity to say that bullshit to him.
Fuck him and the fucking bitch he rode in on. He owed fuck all to no-fucking-body but Megan. Yeah, she’d been madder than a motherfucker when he’d announced he was having the Bobs at a meeting. And, yeah, he’d gotten a fucking hard dick watching those bitches suck off Mutt and Jeff. Fuck, and, yeah, he’d had a circle of them bitches at his table after fucking barring Megan from the party he’d fucking decided to have.
His behavior was all kinds of fucked up, but he did it because of how much he fucking loved Megan. He was about to lose his fucking mind not knowing how to help her. How to reach her.
And, most importantly, he felt like a selfish fuck for not wanting the baby she so desperately wanted. They’d always planned on having a bunch of little thems running around. From the fucking moment he’d met Megan, he hadn’t fucking worried about covering his dick. He’d fucking wanted her innocence all over him, as if her pureness could absolve his dirtiness. He’d wanted to mark her, let the whole fucking universe know she belonged to him.
She’d let him. She’d opened herself to him and trusted him with her body, her heart and her life. Whatever he wanted, she gave to him.
But he couldn’t risk her life for another baby’s. He mourned his other boy, too, and wished like a motherfucker the baby would’ve been born alive. Or saved. Or…what-the-fuck ever…he just wished shit was fucking different.
Yet, he was fucking grateful shit had turned out as it had. What the fuck would he have fucking done if both Patrick and Megan had fucking died? Or, fuck it all, what would he have fucking done if Patrick had survived and…and…fuck, he couldn’t even fucking finish it.
He would’ve had two sons to raise without his heart and soul with him. He’d just needed a fucking break from his heartache, and—fuck him—his resentment toward Megan.
This marriage shit was hard enough. Sometimes, he fucking wished…he fucking wished he’d kept a part of himself from her. That she didn’t make him lose fucking control the way he did. Sometimes, he wished the only time he wasn’t truly happy and at peace was when she was at his side.
What the fuck would he ever do if some-fucking-thing happened to her?
So he’d gotten the Bobs here. Mutt and Jeff would’ve signed on to run the guns just with the cash alone, but Christopher had just needed a little of himself back.
Now, motherfuckers thought he wanted to stick his dick in some other bitch. Everything else might’ve been all fucking fucked up in his head, but he’d never fuck any other fucking girl but Megan. He had no fucking interest in it. He did, how-fucking-ever, have a very healthy fucking cock. Watching bitches suck off motherfuckers worked on his dick, cuz, yeah, he loved having his own dick sucked and that had made him picture Megan sucking him off.
The door opened again and Christopher narrowed his eyes. Johnnie stomped in, carrying a medical bag and glaring at him. They faced off for a moment before Johnnie dropped his eyelids and backed down on the fucking sly.
What the fuck ever. Christopher only fucking backed down to Megan.
“What the fuck you want, motherfucker?” he asked, swigging his drink again.
“I’ve come to sew you the fuck up.”
“Fuck you. You the motherfucker fuckin’ knifed me.”
Johnnie threw him a dirty look, one eye swelling shut. “To fucking stop you from beating my fucking ass,” he argued.
Not responding, Christopher drank again while Johnnie pulled a chair up, grabbed his arm and inspected his wound.
“Ain’t fuckin’ deep.”
A muscle ticked in Johnnie’s jaw. Instead of commenting, he opened the bag and laid out what he needed on the conference table. “I love Kendall, Christopher,” he said, piercing Christopher’s skin for the first stitch.
“Yeah. Then what the fuck you meant when you say you was human, motherfucker, when you fuckin’ spent the day with Megan? Answer me fuckin’ that. Sure the fuck sound like you still got feelins for my fuckin’ wife. Lemme tell you, I’m ‘bout sick of all you motherfuckers fallin’ all over your-fuckin-selfs for Megan.”
Johnnie completed stitch number two with the utmost care, then leaned back. “Ever fucking see how motherfuckers leer at Bailey, Zoann, and Kendall?” He shrugged. “Fuck, Christopher, maybe, some of those motherfuckers do hold Megs above the other girls. I admit I did, too, at one time. But there’s a lot of psychology behind it, too.”
“I fuckin’ swear, John Boy, if you start with your preppy fuckin’ bullshit I’m punchin’ you right the fuck in your fuckin’ mouth.”
“Fuck off, you fucking lunatic,” Johnnie barked, jerking back to his task and then pausing to allow his fingers to stop shaking. “Before Megan, every other girl we hung around was a fucking free-for-all, asshole. Then, she comes and she’s suddenly off-limits to everyone but you. That alone made her the most fascinating creature in history. So, yes, we all wanted a piece of her to find out on that basis alone. But she’s young and gorgeous. She was also innocent as fuck. You know what else she is? Who else she is?”
Christopher scowled. Of course, he knew. He just never thought anyone else gave a fuck. “Big Joe’s baby girl.”
“One more,” Johnnie said, after doing stitch number four and keeping his gaze averted. “I was never as close to him as you were,” he began quietly, “but, somehow, he was still a big part of my life.”
“I don’t want to hear nothin’ ‘bout that motherfucker—”
“Leading Zoann to believe you didn’t want her was wrong, Christopher. A betrayal. But he did it for you.”
“He fuckin’ knew how much I love Bitsy. The fuckin’ bullshit he did wasn’t for me—”
“If he wouldn’t have kept Zoann away and she’d told you, you would’ve gone after Logan and Cee Cee.”
“Ain’t only woulda fuckin’ went after them motherfuckers. I woulda fuckin’ buried them.”
“You would’ve gotten yourself fucking killed.”
“No the fuck—”
“You were twenty-four years old. Street smart? Yes. But you didn’t have half the fucking instincts then that you do now. My guess is Logan was hoping you’d find out. You might’ve killed Cee Cee, but, I bet there was a contingency plan where someone would’ve stepped up and hunted you down. What about Logan? Suppose you’d found out and went to Columbia? You would’ve been in a foreign country where Logan had probably set up informants. The moment you got anywhere near him, you would’ve been shot down like a dog and fed to his fucking starving pigs.”
Christopher yanked his arm away the moment Johnnie tied the fifth stitch off.
“You have a bunch of reasons to hate Joseph Foy. This time? Hate what he did, but don’t hate him. He did what he had to do to save your fucking life.”
“What the fuck that got to do with Megan?”
“You know exactly what the fuck it has to do with her, motherfucker. With us and her. If we’d thought for one moment she was here to harm you, none of us would’ve hesitated to slit her fucking throat to keep you safe. Just because she was that motherfucker’s daughter. Do you understand me? We would’ve rode her hard, used her, and then carved her to little pieces just like we finished Big Joe. That’s the ugly fucking truth. Have we entertained those thoughts after the only discussion we all had while you were in the hospital? Fuck no. Fuck, I don’t think that’s crossed my mind since that day.”
“You woulda fuckin’ hurt Megan like that when we ain’t never hurt no girls?”
Johnnie squeezed the bridge of his nose. “It all goes back to Big Joe. She was his girl, which meant she would’ve gotten special treatment. I don’t know, Christopher. Maybe, we’re trying to make up for it to her. Or, maybe, we feel guilty as fuck for just wanting to fuck her and imagining how you fuck her. Fuck, whether it’s right or not, most of these motherfuckers do hold her above every other woman. She’s Big Joe’s daughter. She’s your wife. And, fuck, she glued you the fuck back together and gave you what you needed to run this club the way we all knew you could. You hated Big Joe as much as you hated yourself for killing him. She forgave you and, in turn, you forgave him and yourself.”
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 168
