“Fool me once, shame on you. I think you know how the fuck the saying finish.”
“Digger, I swear.”
His frown deepened.
“Please?”
“Fuck! Fine. You lying and I’m going to be pissed.”
She nodded.
“I’m not leaving your ass here, so come on then.”
Once they topped the porch, Digger had the plywood removed from the door in no time. The nails and rotten wood made the task easier than Bunny expected. Had it been nailed from the inside, a few hard kicks would’ve gotten them in.
After picking the lock on the door hidden behind the plank, Digger finally achieved entry. He leaned the board against the outer wall, then set the toolbox inside before motioning them forward.
Daylight angled through the opened door, revealing white sheets over furniture, and layers of dust and cobwebs. A musty, closed-in smell hung in the air.
Digger slammed the door shut and propelled them into darkness because of the boarded windows. Now, the awful smell condensed in the closed up house and turned her stomach and she heaved, bringing up only bile, since she hadn’t eaten in hours.
“Fuck!” Digger snarled, throwing open the door again. Cold air blasted in, along with light. “I don’t need a sick fucking bitch with me.”
“Bun-Bun,” Little Man whispered, touching her back.
“Come here, CJ,” Digger ordered.
“Want ‘Law and MegAnn,” he countered on a cry, his calm disintegrating at Digger’s sharpness. Maybe, even because Bunny had thrown up.
“Remember me? Uncle Digger.”
The boy sneezed. “MegAnn falled!” he reminded them.
Bunny had the feeling that phrase wouldn’t disappear from the child’s vocabulary until he saw his mother healthy and happy again. If that would ever happen.
“You want to see Meggie and Outlaw again?”
“MegAnn got red and—”
“Listen to me, kid,” Digger said softly, the tone reminding Bunny of the man she’d once known, however briefly. He shoved his gun in his waistband, his jacket shielding it from view. “We going on another adventure. Me and you. Bigger than this one.”
A chill slithered down Bunny’s spine at the noted absence of her name. Was her time up now? Later? The thought turned her stomach again.
“I’m gonna get you back to ‘Law as soon as I can, but you have to listen to me.”
Little Man sniffled. “I want MegAnn.”
Digger huffed out a breath. “’Law might be the only one you get back.”
A soft sob escaped Bunny. Outlaw might be the only one because Digger didn’t think Meggie had survived.
“If you behave, I’ll get you ice cream as soon as we safe,” he said, not paying attention to Little Man’s sniffles and cries for his mommie.
“MegAnn gone?” he asked with a sob.
“She might be.”
“Mommie left me!”
“If she did, she’s with angels and—”
“No! Mommie ‘Law’s angel. Him said it!”
“CJ,” Bunny soothed, unable to allow this conversation a moment longer. She intended to offer as much comfort to Little Man as possible while she lived. Though it surprised her, Digger had begun to calm him down. Until he mentioned Meggie being with angels. She sat back on her haunches and pulled him into her arms. “Wherever Mommie is, she loves her sweet baby boy. You’re her buddy, right?”
“Yes,” he answered in a watery voice. “MegAnn say I her feet atato.”
She kissed the top of his head. “Sweet potato.”
He relaxed against her. “Yes,” he sniffled.
“She needs you to cooperate. So does ‘Law.”
“You stay with me, Bun-Bun?”
“You’ll be good if she’s with you?” Digger interrupted before Bunny responded.
“Y-yes,” he answered in a pitiful voice.
“Then, we’ll keep her.”
She snorted at his easy lie, but he lifted a brow, his inscrutable gaze sweeping over her.
“You sick or something?”
She felt flushed and overheated. Somehow, she ignored all her aches and pains. It was easy to do with so much going on. She was sick, though, a fact that Digger didn’t need to know.
“Only a little hungry,” she responded. Even if she were one hundred percent healthy, he had serious issues if he didn’t expect her to be affected by what was happening.
“Stay here. I need to find candles so we can close the door.”
She didn’t respond or move until he returned a few minutes later, carrying a lit candle in each hand. He handed both to her while he uncovered a table. That done, he took one of the candles and set it down, then closed the door.
A chill still hung in the air and she shivered, not protesting as he took the second candle from her. Standing, she dusted off her jeans, the wooden floor quite cold beneath her feet. Little Man sneezed again and he rubbed an arm across his runny nose.
“Blankets should be in one of the bedrooms. Who knows? Maybe, even tissues for your nose. A lot of shit just remained in place.”
Bunny raised her candle higher, not picking up a clue about who the house belonged to, but still seeing nothing but outlines of the furniture. “Where are we?”
Inspecting her throw-up, Digger sidled a distracted glance to her. “The Donovan farm,” he said offhandedly. “Belong to the club now, although none of them have set foot here in years. Not even Logan when he rose from the fucking dead.” He cocked his head to the side. “You know he has hiding spaces in the wall in his bedroom?”
She knew all about Logan Donovan and the thought of hiding spaces in the walls in association with him was scary. She imagined real skeletons cramming the spaces if Digger spoke the truth.
He grinned. “It once hid the money and the drugs from the club. Before our time. Prez never told you that?”
As if Outlaw sat around and told her tales from the club. “You’re pulling my leg, right?”
“Nope. Maybe, Prez never knew. Who knows? So many fucking secrets. But Big Joe brought me here in the middle of the night after Logan disappeared. You should’ve seen the fucking money. Blood money, he called it. Made from innocence. His words. Didn’t know what the fuck that meant. Now, I wonder if it was about the girls…” He swallowed. “Don’t fucking matter. Big Joe burned the money.”
“Burned the money?” she squeaked. “That’s illegal!”
The candlelight didn’t afford a very clear view of him, but his teeth flashed white. “As opposed to what, girl? Big Joe called it dirty fucking money.”
She lifted her brows.
“Dirtier fucking money then. He wanted no part of it. Meggie’s old man was something else. Good and bad all rolled up in one. He used the good in him, not to get too bad until no good lingered. He always loved Meggie, though. Always.”
“Do you think he’d appreciate—”
“The way I feel about her making Prez weak?”
“Yes.”
“Probably not. But as long as Meggie alive, Big Joe is, too. Everybody from that time gone, except her, with her daddy’s blood running in her. And Outlaw,” he added, then nodded to Little Man, who quietly picked at the threads on his cut that spelled out his name. “And their kids.”
“Do you want her gone because she’s making Outlaw weak as you say? Or because she’s in danger?”
“I don’t know right now,” he admitted. “I just wish she’d never come.”
“You want her to die, don’t you?”
“I don’t know,” he said again. “It’s probably too late anyway. Things have gone too far and it won’t stop until one side is completely annihilated.” He dropped his gaze to Little Man again. “Couldn’t think of nowhere else to come once I scooped Outlaw’s son. I can’t fail this kid like I failed Mort’s son.”
Before she could ask what he meant, he halted. At first, Bunny didn’t know why, until she heard the creak of the outside steps.
> “I think that’s the car he stole, Unk.”
Digger set his candle aside, swept Little Man into his arms and dragged her to her feet, jerking her behind him. “Sharper and Osti found us.”
Doubling her steps to keep up, Bunny hoped an escape route existed in the back of the house.
Otherwise, they were all dead.
Christopher still hadn’t gotten to Megan, hours after she’d been taken away. Cash called with updates, so Christopher knew Johnnie would be released in the morning while the others were being seen to. Still, Johnnie would be in the same hospital as his woman. Mort awaited word on Bailey and Roxy at the goddamn hospital.
But MC duties kept Christopher from Megan, including calls to his chapter presidents, and ordering club wide lockdowns, stateside, in Canada, and in England. Sharper’s reach extended as far as Christopher’s.
He had to see that the codes on all the entry points were changed and wait for Ophelia to arrive to look after the kids. Call after call blew up his cell phone and he issued directions as best he could. Since most of his focus was on Megan, he could’ve been ordering motherfuckers to fly to the fucking moon.
Sweeping up the last of the glass from the mirror Mort shattered, Christopher dumped the shards into the overflowing trash container. Red stained his hands. His own dried blood from inconsequential injuries he’d received in the last few hours. And Megan’s blood.
Her blood remained on his skin and his clothes. Her blood. Wanting a connection to her, he purposely hadn’t washed it away.
The sight turned his stomach and he slammed the broom and dust pan aside, running to the kitchen. Opening the faucet to the hot water, he shoved his hands beneath the flow, not moving when the temperature spiked and scalded him.
“Why the fuck you didn’t listen, baby? Huh?” His arms trembled at the pain flowing through him, but he didn’t care. Nothing compared to his devastation over his wife.
Not a fucking thing.
“Christopher?”
His sister’s voice rose from behind him. He straightened, still not bothering to move his hand from the water.
“Christopher?” Ophelia repeated, closer to him. A moment passed before she reached around him and turned off the faucet, taking his hand into her own. “Oh my God,” she said in a wobbly voice. “Look at your hands.”
He stayed motionless, unable to comfort his youngest sibling or to comment on her longer hair, in its natural color nowadays. She grabbed a dish towel from a nearby counter and began to dry off one of his hands, clucking when he flinched.
“What if I lose my Megan, Fee?” he whispered.
Standing on her tiptoes, she hugged him, running her fingers through his hair and kissing his cheek. “You’re not going to lose her, Christopher.”
“She was shot in the fuckin’ chest. Got a collapsed lung. A lotta blood loss. Ain’t even outta surgery yet.”
Using the dish towel, she swiped away his tears. “Go to the hospital and I’ll see to the kids.”
“I ain’t able to yet. I gotta…I still got shit to do here.”
“Is there anything I can help you with? Do you need me to call Avery, Nia, and Bev?”
He jerked away, yanking out his cell phone and shoving it at Ophelia. “Fuck, Fee. Call them. They need to get the fuck here. I ain’t trustin’ that motherfucker not to go after them.”
Ophelia quickly dialed. Until he heard Avery’s voice, he hadn’t known which of their sisters she’d called.
“Absolutely not,” Avery said, once Christopher gave his version of events over speakerphone, offering facts not being reported in newscasts. “You didn’t protect Mama. You didn’t protect Zoann. And you didn’t protect your wife. How the hell do you think we’ll be safer with you? Your so-called protection leaves a lot to be desired.”
Bleakness filled Christopher, and he nodded, although Avery couldn’t see him.
“Really, Avery?” Ophelia said with incredulity. “You’re not doing this to him right now. He doesn’t need us to shit on him. He needs us to stand behind him.”
“I ain’t even needin’ that, Fee,” he said hoarsely. “All I fuckin’ want is their fuckin’ safety.” He dropped his gaze to his phone. “Hear me, Avery? I ain’t askin’ us to kiss and make the fuck up. Just come to the fuckin’ club ‘til the threat passed. I can’t stand your fuckin’ ass like you hatin’ on me, but we family and I wanna protect you.”
“No.”
“Avery!” Ophelia cried, desperation creeping into her voice. “Call Nia and Bev. They may feel differently. Think about the children. Your daughters and Nia’s two.”
Yeah, Sasha. Christopher couldn’t remember which of his sisters was that one’s ma. He couldn’t even remember the names of his other two nieces, but he knew Sasha, the youngest. She’d taken a liking to Megan.
“Not happening, Ophelia. We’ll take our chances right where we are, thank you very much. As for Bev and Nia, I am speaking for them. We knew he’d call one of us. Christopher to the rescue, when he doesn’t give two shits about us otherwise.”
“That ain’t true! Sasha visit sometime.”
“Nia allows her to visit Meggie and your children. Not you. You’re worthless. You’ve always been worthless. You’ll always be—”
Ophelia disconnected the call, then threw his phone on the butcher block table. K-P had gotten this on special order. Kitchen Patrol. Motherfucker loved to fucking cook. Now, he was dead and his kid brother was, too.
Christopher hung his head.
“Don’t you dare let her get that in your head again!” Ophelia screeched. “I can’t wait until Meggie is better so she can kick her ass for pissing on you when you’re down, Avery didn’t have a right to say any of those things.”
Megan defended him to everyone and dared anyone to say what they all knew he really was. She was his greatest champion and he’d allowed her to get hurt. “Avery had every fuckin’ right. I got Ma killed. That was her ma too. Avery ain’t ever cared much for me, but that just sealed my fuckin’ fate.”
“Outlaw,” Cash called, appearing a moment later and halting when he saw Ophelia.
“You must be the man who called me,” Ophelia said in an attempt at cheer, holding her hand out. “I’m Ophelia. His sister.”
Nodding to her, Cash contemplated her from head to toe. “If you give me a minute, I’ll escort you to the house.”
“That’s fine.”
“Can you go check on Dinah for me, Fee?” Christopher asked, suspecting Cash needed to discuss club business with him.
Ophelia headed for the door. “She’s in the same room she’s always been in?”
“Yeah.” At least he thought she was.
“I can take over from here,” Cash said when Ophelia walked out. “Get to the hospital.”
“I gotta go to the funeral home first. Make sure Arrow and Tyler bodies in good hands.”
“Outlaw, as soon as I get your sister to the kids, so Art and Surrat can leave, I’ll check into it. Or I’ll call the priest.”
“Art and Surrat? Ain’t they two probates?”
“We couldn’t get anyone else to stay with the children.”
Sighing, Christopher scrubbed a hand over his face. “I tried to fuckin’ get my other sisters and their fuckin’ girls here, but they ain’t trustin’ me to protect them, Ghost.”
“You did your duty,” Cash returned. “It was up to them to accept. Speaking of sisters, Georgie is frantic. Sloane isn’t allowing her to come here and the band has a few more concerts before they have a couple of days off. I promised I’d keep her informed. She wanted me to tell you she sends her love.”
“Thanks.”
“Your work here is done. Go to Meggie.”
He didn’t need to hear those words twice. He went behind Ophelia to give her the updated plans. After kissing her on the cheek and ordering her to keep at Avery—one of them—until they came to the club, he hurried to his bike and rode out, finally able to be Megan’s husband, instead of
the MC President.
Cursing under his breath and calling himself a thousand fucking fools, Digger hurried Bunny and Little Man to Logan Donovan’s bedroom and the back wall. A hidden panel lay somewhere there, but hearing the opening of the front door fucked with his memory.
The fucking dark didn’t help, either. The small flicker of the candle Bunny held was fucking useless. It didn’t matter he sometimes worked in darkness. Fear fucked him up. If he hadn’t been familiar with the house, his nerves would’ve had him bumping into shit. His impulsiveness had struck again. The last thing he’d expected to have when they’d infiltrated Outlaw’s property was to leave alive and with hostages. Once he took Bunny and Little Man, this farm had been the closest hideout he could think of. Police had been speeding toward the club, ambulances in hot pursuit. Even worse had been the bikers arriving in a sea of chrome and metal.
Some of the brothers knew Digger by sight. All would know him by name. If they didn’t know him, they knew Outlaw’s son, and not only thanks to the cut proclaiming him the son of Outlaw. Then there was Bunny. The brothers knew her, too. Besides being a beautiful chick, she was also Meggie’s friend.
He’d had to get off the road until shit died down. Plus, Little Man’s screaming in the car had worked on his fucking nerves. The kid had lungs.
Finally, he found the correct panel and pressed against it, sagging in relief when it opened just enough for him to push Bunny and Outlaw’s son through and to slip inside himself after he set the candle aside. In the small space, Bunny and Little Man pressed against him and awareness of her seeped into his brain. Although the kid touched more of him than she did, he still felt her trembles and detected her fear. A desire to protect her rose up in him, but he shoved it away. He couldn’t afford an entanglement with her. She didn’t have a very fucking high opinion of him anyway. Whether she worshipped the fucking ground he walked on, he never wanted another permanent woman in his life. If they survived. Digger was well aware that they might die at any moment.
Fuck.
He supposed she had a right to be scared. He was, too. If not for the survival mode he’d gone into, he’d remember…today. Sharper standing over Tyler and riddling his body with bullets. Meggie dropping to the ground. Outlaw screaming. His father using an opportunity to kill Mortician’s son.
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 239
