Mortician blinked. “Wait, you out here. Meggie girl…?”
“Opened her fuckin’ eyes, Mort,” he said then gave the updates on the others, including the conversation he had with Johnnie and Roxy. “I gotta get shit goin’,” he said after he finished, appreciating the fact that Mortician wasn’t trying to change his mind about patching out.
“What you need from me?”
He cocked his head to the side. “You up to this shit?”
“Yeah, Prez.”
“Check in on Megan ‘til I get back. I might have a lead on Digger, Bunny, and my boy.”
Mort nodded.
“I ain’t gonna be long.”
“Okay, Prez.”
Before he left Christopher peeped in on Megan and found her still asleep, oxygen back in place.
Satisfied, he bent and kissed her lips, breathing easier for the first time in days.
Listening to the running water as Bunny showered, Digger cursed the tiny cabin Gabe dropped them at, located in the middle of nowhere. Beggars couldn’t be choosers. He needed to get off the grid for a while and Gabe had fulfilled his request. Hopefully, neither Outlaw nor Sharper got a lead on their location before Digger regrouped. That still left Gabe vulnerable. Neither Outlaw or Sharper would offer the man mercy for assisting Digger.
Bunny had been right about Digger impulsively seeking out Gabe. He hadn’t liked hearing those words from her. She’d almost sounded disappointed in him. In. Him. A motherfucker who’d never opened himself up enough to feel as if he owed any bitch one explanation. Including Peyton. She hadn’t been interested in shit like that, anyway. On the flip side, she didn’t listen when he really needed her to.
The thought slammed through him, the irony not lost. Rashness begot rashness.
He’d always kept a part of himself closed off, but he was clueless to the reasons why. It was as if he’d ever attempted a relationship before Peyton. Even before she’d put him through the goddamn ringer, he’d separated fucking from feelings. Maybe, because of the women he hung around? In the club, the old ladies were exclusive to the brothers they belonged to. Club Ass fucked whoever wanted them. Kiera, Ellen, and some of the other long-time chicks who’d hung around so long they’d become club property, dick-hopped. Digger had never seen a reason to open up fully to any of them.
Ellen. That fucking bitch. That lying fucking bitch. She’d gotten her fucking ass killed after she’d planted all that bullshit in Peyton’s head. He’d liked Ellen. They all had and she’d had the fucking audacity to claim Meggie stole Outlaw from her.
Another crime on Digger’s conscience. The moment he’d found out Peyton’s intentions, he should’ve shut the shit down and went to Outlaw. Bunny was right. He’d had choices and he’d always made the wrong goddamn one. Adjusting his position on the sofa, he opened his bottle of vodka and tipped it to his mouth.
The water stopped, then started again, and he tightened his hold on the bottle, imagining how her lush body looked all wet and soapy,
Lucky for him, he’d adjusted to small spaces in the past few months. Otherwise, these close confines with Bunny would be unbearable. Being introduced as an old lady of another brother had made her out-of-reach to Digger. They weren’t the type of club who shared their women, so she’d become like a piece of furniture to him. A cool chick, always around, and Meggie’s friend. Beyond acknowledging her and joking here and there with her, he didn’t fuck with her.
Being one-on-one with her and having to take care of her changed his impression. He found her quiet strength refreshing. Her calmness settled him down and removed some of the loneliness that had chased him from the club.
Throwing money at Bunny wouldn’t matter. Returning Outlaw’s son was her main priority. Not their crappy lodgings or her lack of clothes. Had Peyton been with him, she would’ve made him miserable, asking for dollars, outfits, and good food and all the things he’d pretended he could afford when they’d met.
Tyler would’ve been on Digger’s ass, too. Not that it had been the boy’s fault. He’d grown up in wealth, just like Digger and Mort. Whereas their mother had kept them grounded, Tyler’s mom had been out-of-control herself.
Tyler.
Tyler. Tyler. Tyler.
Tylertylertylertylertyler…
Swallowing, Digger ignored the moisture in his eyes and swallowed more vodka. He tried his best not to fucking think of Tyler’s death. It kept going to the same thing—Sharper standing over a fucking thirteen-year-old and filling him with bullets.
What kind of a motherfucker did that?
The short amount of time Digger had known Tyler before the boy had changed hadn’t been enough. He wanted more. A do-over. A chance to impress upon Tyler that the lifestyle they led always had the chance of ending badly. Tyler, more than Digger or Mort, had everything in the palm of his hands, as Sharper’s heir.
He could’ve been anything. The great holy man Sharper pretended to be. A CEO. A physician. Yet, Tyler had followed in their footsteps, taking the worst of each of them. Sharper’s violence. His mother’s arrogance. Mort’s stubbornness and Digger’s recklessness. Given that DNA rundown, Tyler hadn’t stood a chance.
He’d killed innocent girls. For all of Digger’s protests and demands not to hurt women, Tyler had thrived on killing those weaker than him. If he’d lived, would he have been redeemable? No one would ever know.
Blinking to clear away his tears and his hurt, Digger thought about Switzerland and how Tyler had been a pro at skiing.
Overseas, Digger had seen to it that he, Peyton and Tyler had stayed in the finest places. But, once again, he’d overspent and ended up broke. Same old story of an uncontrollable dumbass who never learned shit. Maybe, if he’d taken better care of his money, Tyler would still be alive. He never would’ve had to return to Sharper to hide from Outlaw and expose Tyler to their father’s evil deeds.
He was one broke motherfucker now, and still he continued in the same manner. He’d borrowed money from Gabe without a way to repay him.
Bunny’s low opinion of him was well-deserved. Of course he had fucking kidnapped her so that might affect her judgment of him too. Yet…yet, she hadn’t pouted. She’d occupied Little Man while Digger got food together. She’d made her request and believed he’d think about it, taking him at his word. The idea uncoiled something inside of him.
They’d eaten sandwiches while Bunny looked through all the toiletries he’d purchased for her. Judging by Peyton and Char, women needed all kinds of stuff. Little sewing kits. Tampons. Lipstick. Mascara. Eyeliner. Perfume. Pens. Notepads. Mints. Gum. Deodorant. Travel sized toothpaste. Kleenex. Business card holders. Mini bibles. Guns. Condoms.
Fuck, shit Digger wouldn’t have dreamed of.
So he’d gotten Bunny most of the stuff that hadn’t been in Char’s and Peyton’s purses, like shampoo and conditioner. All except the gun. Couldn’t do a fucking background check under the circumstances. Besides, she’d probably use it to fuck him up.
The shower stopped for a few moments, then started again.
Digger imagined how Bunny looked with the water hitting her breasts and sliding down her bald pussy. Remembering her study of his mouth and his hair hardened his cock.
“Dig?” a hoarse little voice called.
Scratching his chest, Digger glanced down at Outlaw’s son. Not an hour ago, the little motherfucker had cursed his ass out and beat the fuck out of him. Now, he grinned up at him, his cheeks smeared with drying snot.
“Find something to wipe your nose, kid.” He sounded like a mean, grouchy motherfucker, but looking after Little Man for the past hours had worn him the fuck out. He intended to do something with his dick so he wouldn’t ever create kids of his own.
“Potty,” Little Man whined, after swiping his sleeve across his nose.
“Bunny taking a shower. We can’t go in there ‘til she done.”
“POTTY!” he yelled. Digger had stuffed him with candy, donuts, and chocolate milk and he’d been going
non-stop ever since. On top of coughing and sneezing, he must be tired.
For the entire time Bunny recovered, Little Man had been an angel. The moment she’d awakened, he’d turned into a fucking brat.
Between thinking of Bunny in a sexual way, remembering Tyler’s death, and his own tiredness, Digger reached his limit. Crouching down, he glared at the boy. “Hold your piss, you little fucking brat, and that’s that. I’m not going in there and looking at her pussy. I’ve already seen it and got a hard dick. So sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up. Understand?” he snarled, satisfied at Little Man’s widening eyes and a bit of fear creeping onto his face. “Another fucking thing. If you piss on yourself, I’m beating your ass.”
Tears filled those green eyes, too much like his father’s, and he plopped down to the floor, sniffling, as if he wanted to cry but held back. His chest rattled.
Digger frowned. Bunny was right. Little Man sounded as if he had pneumonia. He needed medication.
“Dig mean ash fuck!” he whimpered, his chin wobbling.
What a fucking nightmare. He was treating Little Man the way Sharper had disciplined him and Mortician when their mother hadn’t been around. Once she’d died, Sharper had brought his sons to church or to events with the media, but basically allowed the staff to care for them. Unless discipline was required.
“Want MegAnn,” Little Man said in a hurt voice.
“What’s going on?” Bunny’s breathy voice floated to Digger and he glanced to where she stood in the doorway, holding a fucking towel in front of her, her brown hair plastered to her head. She hadn’t even bothered wrapping herself up and he glimpsed the hint of an ass cheek from the angle he sat.
“Potty, Bun-Bun.”
“The door was unlocked,” she explained as if Digger didn’t have a working dick that wouldn’t respond to an almost-naked woman. “You should’ve come.”
She crooked her finger at Little Man, but he sniffled and blinked, tears finally rolling down his cheeks.
“Dig say sit fuck down and shut fuck up, fuckin bwat.”
“He said what?”
Just to piss Bunny off a little more, the kid’s shoulders shook with the force of his big sniffs. She threw him an evil look. The little motherfucker repaid him good by tattling to her.
Huffing, she threw Digger another violent glower and held out her hand to Little Man. He ran to her. She stopped him, bent down and whispered in his ear. Glancing uneasily at Digger, he scampered toward the bathroom.
The moment the kid disappeared, Bunny stomped to him. “You fucking asshole, don’t talk to him like that!”
“I don’t remember telling you I joined a fucking monastery, Bunny. Get fucking dressed or get on your knees and suck my fucking dick to relieve the tension in my balls caused by you looking so pretty and naked.”
Hastily, she wrapped the towel around herself, although her movements revealed some pussy and tits. He liked her height, especially now, seeing her gloriously long legs.
“Happy?”
“Nope, woulda been happier getting a dick suck.”
Little Man’s return interrupted Bunny’s response. Instead of coming closer to them, the child ran behind Bunny and peeked around her.
Digger and Bunny stared at each other as if they were seeing one another for the first time. In a way, they were. This was the first time she’d ever looked at him with desire flickering in her eyes.
“He needs a bath,” she said, glancing away, a flush creeping into her face. “Does he have any clean clothes?”
“In the bag,” he answered in surprise. What did she think all these fucking bags held around here? “You do, too.” He’d only shown her the toiletries, not the clothes and shoes.
Moving away from her put distance between them. Digger picked up two bags from the floor, one with things for her and the other for Little Man. He nodded to the prescription bottles on the table.
“You have antibiotics. I’m not sure what happened to you. But I figured it was fucked up with how sick you was. The way I saw it, you was suffering from more than the effects of the fire.”
Vulnerability entered her brown eyes, the kind that made a man want to protect a woman. She nodded and gave him a small smile before backing away and grabbing Little Man’s hand. “Thanks. Let me see to him,” she said, nodding to the kid.
Several hours later, Digger sat on the sofa, glad that Bunny had finally gotten Little Man settled. The kid had energy to burn and then some. Seeing him in action wore Digger out but Bunny took it all in stride, leaving him to be the odd man out. Once Little Man finished his bath with Bunny watching over him, Digger took another shower—this time cold—not knowing what else to do.
He shouldn’t expect anything else from Bunny or the kid. Of course they’d be on guard with him, and shut him out of their world. They saw him as the enemy, an idea he perpetuated with his grouchiness.
Finishing off the pint of vodka he’d been nursing since they’d eaten, Digger stood and went to the bags on the floor, scrounging through them until he found a bottle of vodka. Snapping the seal and unscrewing the top, he guzzled from it, enjoying the burn down his throat.
He started for the sofa but paused at the sight of Bunny in a T-shirt and sweatpants. Seeing how much healthier she looked, relieved Digger. She shifted from foot-to-foot, assessing him. He wished he knew what she was thinking at this particular moment. Could it be with the same interest and desire he felt for her? It definitely wasn’t the annoyance and disgust from earlier. Her gaze flickering to the bottle in his hand ruined the moment. She shrank back.
“I…um…”
An idea of exactly why Outlaw had fucked up Trader formed in Digger’s head. After taking care of her, he’d guessed Trader abused her, but based on her reaction, he hit when he drank.
Digger searched for words to put her at ease, but didn’t know what to say to her, to put her at ease. Not the kind of words she deserved to hear. Deciding talking was better than looking like fuckwad, he went with what he knew. “I haven’t fucked you up yet. Have I, girl?”
Her eyes flared in surprise as if she didn’t know he’d figured Trader out.
She licked her lips and hesitated before her shoulders heaved and she spoke. “That can change with alcohol.”
He rolled his eyes, disgusted and out-of-sorts. Caring for her while she’d been sedated had softened him toward her. The way she watched over Outlaw’s son and protected him, as if she’d given birth to him herself. Digger appreciated her attitude. Of course, she wanted to escape, so he couldn’t hold her two attempts against her. In her position, he would’ve done the same thing. But he didn’t like her fear of him, while he drank. “You saw me drunk as fuck before.” She acted like he was a complete stranger. “Did I go off the fucking chain then?”
“At some point you did,” she retorted. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be on the run from Outlaw.”
“Ouch. You go for the jugular.”
“I’m just responding to you.”
“Yeah, but you left one part out. I’m on the run from Sharper, too.”
“You’re the one who got the club in the mess with him. Remember?”
“Wrong.” Drinking again, he finally returned to the sofa and sat. “I never once betrayed Outlaw. Even when I brought Bailey to Sharper. I wanted to save my brother.”
Anger flashed in her eyes, and she opened her mouth to give him the business.
Raising his hands in surrender, Digger hit her with his defense. “Think about how you want to save Gabe. Your kid brother. Well, Mort’s my big brother. If I knew Meggie was there, I would’ve called her and told her to stay the fuck away.”
“She would’ve told.”
Probably. Meggie had a fucking head on her shoulders. She figured shit out as much as her husband did. But there were inherent difference between their views on life. Whereas she looked at things with emotion, Outlaw viewed shit with stone cold logic. “Wouldn’t have been me.”
“Technicality.”
“Point being, my old man couldn’t make Mort suffer as long as I followed his orders.”
She tipped closer, though still out of reach. “Why didn’t you do it? You’re saying this because…” Her voice trailed off.
He shrugged, tired of offering her the reason. Apparently, she hadn’t heard a goddamn word.
“I didn’t have time to think shit through. I should’ve called Meggie, even though Outlaw would’ve had my ass for involving her. It wouldn’t have been me telling him or Mort. I could’ve called Kendall, even.”
The words captured her full attention and she didn’t respond, so he continued talking and drinking.
“Know why I took Outlaw’s kid?”
“You said to save his life.”
Another fact she seemed skeptical of. “That’s the truth.”
“Something else you didn’t think through, since you were going to kill me.”
“That’s why I don’t see shit with any gray in between,” he explained. “If I’m loyal and it comes time to choose, I go with the person who I have the most allegiance to. I’m sorry for threatening you. If the kid hadn’t wanted you, I probably would’ve shot you.”
Even he winced at how callous he sounded. His confusion brought back the fear in her face gradually sliding away and she stepped back.
“Sorry,” he said again. “I just…I’m an in-the-moment type of dude. That’s why I mostly worked the disposal detail in the club.” Although Mort had seen more in him, which was how he’d been elected SAA.
She scrunched her nose up. “Impulsiveness is good sometimes. Other times, thought and planning is required.”
“Sharper had supposedly been planning to take Outlaw down for months. Then, suddenly, he’d decided to move in. And look how that had turned out.”
“A prime example of why impetuous behavior isn’t good.”
“Whatever the fuck enters my head is what I do.”
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 248
