He tipped her chin up, so she’d look at him. “You was upstairs?” he prompted.
Her gaze sidled away. “Yes.”
She fell silent. Christopher’s impatience increased. “What the fuck happen after that, Megan?” he snapped. “Cuz you bein’ fuckin’ upstairs ain’t explainin’ how you got fuckin’ strangle marks ‘round your fuckin’ neck…” He closed his eyes and heaved in a breath before looking and kissing her lips. “Fuck…Megan…I ain’t…baby, what the fuck happen? Talk to me.”
“Oh, Christopher,” she whispered, staring at him. “It was so aw…” She shook her head. “I was upstairs in our bedroom and a man walked in. I’d never seen him before and…and…he attacked me. Started…started choking me.” Her face crumpled and tears slipped down her cheeks. “If…if Mortician hadn’t been coming to talk to you, I’d be dead.” She swiped at her wet face. “Mortician and J-Johnnie.”
The words rushed from her, too fast to be the truth. Megan wasn’t a good liar. And he knew her. He knew her reactions. Her mannerisms. Her tones. He knew everything.
Megan was his, and he’d made it his life’s mission to keep track of every fine detail of her. He never wanted her hurt or scared, sad or miserable. She was his salvation and his obsession. He worshipped the ground she walked on. He loved her more than anything in this world, including himself. Without her, life would be worthless. She was his sun and his moon.
His everything.
He took her into his arms and kissed the top of her head again, then laid his cheek against her.
“Don’t talk no more, baby,” he told her, picturing himself walking into their room and finding her dead. He shivered. “Ima go review the fuckin’ footage.”
She tensed again. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mort scrub a hand over his face.
“Where the rest of our lil’ motherfuckers?” he asked. By now, all the kids should be home.
“W-with Roxy,” she got out. “Bunny and Digger are going out. That’s why she brought them there.”
“It hurt to talk?” he asked her, not giving a fuck if Bunny and Digger was flying to fucking outer space. “It sound like it do, baby.”
She didn’t answer, so he took that as a yes. He thumbed her lips and kissed her again. He didn’t know what god to thank, how to thank him or her, that his Megan was still breathing.
“MegAnn okay?” CJ squeezed between the spot where Christopher’s thighs touched her dangling legs and feet. His boy leaned against Megan and looked up at him. “MegAnn not crying no more?”
“She was cryin’?” Christopher asked.
“Yeah,” CJ answered, his little face screwed up in a worried frown. “MegAnn okay?” he repeated.
“Yeah, boy,” Christopher responded as Megan said, “I’m fine, potato.”
Christopher met Megan’s gaze and she smiled at him. His mouth curved into a semblance of a grin. “CJ, boy, take your Ma to our room,” he said, lifting Megan from the counter and setting her on her feet.
“Okay, ‘Law.” ‘Law not Dad, a sign everything was once again right in CJ’s young mind. He grabbed Megan’s hand. “Come on, MegAnn. I have gummies in my pocket. You want some?”
She stooped down and pulled their boy into her arms. “No, potato,” she whispered, rearranging his hair with her fingers. “Didn’t Mommie tell you not to go to the club alone?”
“Uh-huh,” CJ answered. “I’m a big boy, Mommie. I not scared to find ‘Law.”
She stood. “Why don’t we go to your room and see if you have any notes from your teacher.”
“Nope,” he answered with pride, using a word Christopher liked. “’Law say I can’t jump from the desk to the floor no more. Ms. Hollywell happy now and not giving me no more bad marks.”
“You haven’t put glue in Ryan’s hair again?”
“Him an assfuck, Mommie,” he said in exasperation. “Him mean to the smaller boys.”
“Tell your teacher. Do not do him anything.”
“Tell Aunt Bitsy, boy,” Christopher said. Zoann would take care of Ryan.
CJ wrinkled his nose. “Him gave me a dollar not to tell Aunt Zo.”
“Omigod, Christopher Joseph Foy Caldwell, are you taking bribes?” Megan asked, appalled, still sounding like a boy.
“No, MegAnn,” CJ said with a grin. “I not. I still make Ryan bleed if he mean to the other kids.”
“CJ…”
“Listen up, baby,” Christopher interrupted. This needed to be dealt with after he made a motherfucker bleed. “Don’t fuckin’ strain your voice talkin’. Me and CJ gonna talk ‘bout this shit. Just go the fuck up and rest. Okay?”
“Yeah, Mommie, me and ‘Law gonna talk about this shit,” CJ echoed.
Megan glared at Christopher, and he grinned at her, so relieved to see her outrage at their son’s words, he almost jumped for fucking joy.
“C’mon, Mommie. I take care of you,” CJ announced.
With one last look at Christopher, Megan allowed their boy to drag her away.
The moment he was alone with Mort, he turned to the refrigerator and got a bottle of beer. Once he opened it, he took a swig, then faced Mortician.
“Call Johnnie. Tell him to bring his ass here. We can re-fuckin-view the tapes to-fuckin-gether and get a plan of action.”
“Prez, I got some bad fuckin’ news,” Mort began. “You can’t see no footage because there isn’t none. I don’t know what the fuck happened. Me and Johnnie checked before he went home. Recordings were blank. It conked out at the worse possible time.”
Mortician stared at him with an unflinching regard, as if he wasn’t a lying motherfucker. Megan’s doing. Mort wouldn’t cover up a motherfucker trying to hurt Megan on his own. But Megan, his sweet, soft-hearted girl, thought she was doing Christopher a favor by protecting motherfuckers who claimed to be his friend—his family—but still tried to hurt his woman.
Christopher tasted his beer again. “You and Johnnie was to-fuckin-gether?”
“Yeah, Prez.”
“All fuckin’ day?” Christopher pressed.
Mort opened his mouth, then shut it again.
“Think fuckin’ careful, Mortician,” Christopher warned. “Ain’t gonna wanna blow you the fuck away, so give me the real fuckin’ story.”
Mort gave the smallest wince. But he shut the fuck up.
Finishing his beer, Christopher dug in his pocket for a smoke. Once he lit it and took a drag, he held it between his two fingers. He’d help Mort along. “Aintcha went to Portland to drop the fuck in on that lil’ motherfucker who owed us the ten Gs?”
Mortician nodded and lit his own cigarette.
“How that went?”
“Fine, Prez.”
“John Boy musta got back from Long Beach sooner than I fuckin’ thought. He fuckin’ told me he was gonna spend the whole day there.”
“I’m not too sure,” Mortician answered calmly. Smoke curled around his face. He looked away from Christopher then focused on him again. “I don’t keep up with Johnnie schedule.”
Christopher nodded. Jamming the cigarette in the corner of his mouth, he got his cellphone, sent texts to Johnnie, Val, Digger, Cash, and Stretch, for them to get to the house AFSAFP, then pulled up the camera feed. Once he logged in, he went to recordings and opened up the screen, calling up footage from the last eight hours.
It would’ve been easier doing the review in the security room. There wouldn’t have been as many apps to open. He merely would’ve had to tap into whichever camera he needed the footage from and reviewed what he wanted to see. His phone called for extra security. If it ever fell into the wrong hands, he didn’t want motherfuckers to have easy access.
However, he’d do it this way. Perhaps, there’d be footage stored on his phone that was no longer on the main system.
Except he was shit out of luck. Mortician—all of them—knew how the system worked. Stretch had created state-of-the-art surveillance programs. Recordings could be wiped away from the entire system if
users knew the pass code and chose that option. Such a deletion had to be done from the security room.
Something his boys had access to, because he trusted them to keep Megan safe.
He went through screen after screen, looking for evidence, only to find it gone. Large chunks of time were missing. Even cameras from the club and the outside ones that followed the pathway to his house had hours unaccounted for.
That meant, Christopher couldn’t track a motherfucker’s journey from the club to his house.
He threw his phone down, sucked on his cigarette, then went to Mortician and stood next to him. Not speaking. Not threatening. Just fucking staring. Glaring. Warning him, without words, he was fucking with his life.
Mortician’s jaw tightened. Same reaction he’d had since Christopher arrived. If the motherfucker wasn’t careful, his bones would lock the fuck up.
“Fuck, you too, Mort?” Val called as he walked in from the direction of the mud room. “Johnnie look like he walked into the same fucking fist you did. To top it off, motherfucker all scratched up. Like he got into a fight with a cat.”
“Prez,” Digger said, following Val in, ignoring Christopher’s growl upon hearing the RC’s words, “me and Bunny just about to leave. Can’t this wait until tomorrow? My woman going to give me pussy on the bike.”
“What’s this all about, Outlaw?” Cash asked, right on Digger’s heels. He caught sight of Mortician and his eyes widened. “Is this beat-a-motherfucker day?”
“Afternoon,” Stretch said, stepping beside Cash.
“Where my cookies?” Digger asked, frowning in the spot where the cannisters should’ve been. “Meggie keep Oreos in one of those little jars. Fuck, man. Can I leave for real now? This is going to be a shitty evening if I can’t have cookies or bike pussy.”
“Outlaw?” Val said. “You not talking. Everything okay?”
“Where Johnnie?” Christopher managed to ask.
Silence descended as they all looked amongst themselves.
“I’m here, Christopher,” Johnnie finally called, stepping into the kitchen. He stopped on the other side of the island.
Christopher took in Johnnie’s face, more battered and bruised than Mort’s. Deep scratches ran down both cheeks. Christopher’s insides froze. Any brotherly love, family connection, or friendly bond they had exploded into nothingness.
He was so fucking angry, he actually shook. Before he could shoot the fuck out of Johnnie, Megan rushed in. When they’d accessed the gate, she must’ve gotten an alert on her phone.
He searched his brain. He’d gotten an alert about three hours ago, but he’d ignored it. During the day, he was so used to Zoann, Kendall, Bunny, or Roxanne coming and going, he’d slacked up and stopped keeping track of her every move.
“What the fuck?” Val gasped, as he caught sight of Megan’s neck.
Almost all of them had the same reaction—shock. Except Johnnie. Regret filled his eyes.
“MegAnn, c’mon back,” CJ demanded.
“I’m fine, CJ,” she said quietly, looking anything but fucking fine.
“Megan,” Christopher started, his voice so cold he barely recognized it himself. “I fuckin’ looked up to Big Joe like he was my old man. I loved that motherfucker.”
“I know,” she whispered, her lips beginning to tremble.
Did she know where he was going with this? He’d bet she did, because she knew him so well.
“CeeCee was my old man,” he continued. “Ain’t had no fuckin’ love lost, but he was still my fuckin’ blood.”
“Yes,” she agreed, blinking away the tears in her eyes.
“This motherfucker,” he went on, pointing to Johnnie with a trembling finger, wishing bullets would fire from his hand to blow that motherfucker apart, “fuckin’ worshipped Logan, but put him the fuck down like the motherfuckin’ miserable dog he fuckin’ was.”
“Christopher—”
“Shut the fuck up, Megan,” he snarled. “Don’t fuckin’ tell me this motherfucker ain’t fuckin’ strangled you cuz I know he fuckin’ did. Too much shit ain’t fuckin’ addin’ up for this to be a fuckin’ stranger.”
Christopher unholstered his nine, aimed it at Johnnie’s head, then turned it to Mort before going back to Johnnie, not knowing who the fuck he wanted to shoot first. Johnnie for the crime or Mort for the cover-up.
“Fuck, man,” Mortician said under his breath.
“You’ve got it all wrong,” Megan cried, inserting herself in front of Mort but leaving Johnnie on his own.
That spoke more than Megan would ever fucking know. She adored Mort, but she loved Johnnie. She didn’t want anything to happen to him.
“Tell me how the fuck it be wrong?” he demanded.
“Dad?” CJ asked, his eyes wide. In five months, his boy would be six. He was still too young to understand real violence and retribution. Normally, Christopher tried to shield CJ, but he couldn’t see anything but the bruises around Megan’s neck.
He couldn’t feel anything but betrayal.
“I trusted you, motherfucker,” he snarled to Johnnie.
“Christopher!” Megan cried, not moving away from Mortician.
“Get the fuck outta here,” Christopher ordered. “Take CJ with you.”
“No!” she said stubbornly. “I’m not leaving for you to shoot Johnnie and Mortician for absolutely no reason.”
“No fuckin’ reason?” he yelled. “All the fuck I gotta do is look atcha fuckin’ neck and that’s my fuckin’ reason.”
“We told you what happened,” she insisted.
“No, Megan, Mort gave me some bullshit fuckin’ story that don’t even fuckin’ make no sense.”
“Christopher, please,” she sobbed. “Don’t do this. Even if Johnnie did something to me, he’s your brother. You grew up with him. You’ve protected him your entire life. How’d you feel if one day you woke up and realized you killed him for nothing? You’d never forgive yourself. Besides, what reason would Johnnie have to hurt me?”
“The fact that I choked the fuck outta his cunt of a wife,” Christopher snarled. “All this shit gonna make me do is fuck her up, too.”
Johnnie’s eyes frosted. “So my wife’s a cunt, who’s expendable, but your’s an angel, who’s untouchable?”
“If I was you, Johnnie, I’d shut the fuck up,” Digger offered, eating something. Who the fuck knew what it was.
“Christopher, listen to me,” Megan begged. “Johnnie didn’t hurt me, but don’t you think he would’ve been justified. You tried to hurt Kendall. His wife.”
“So he fuckin’ used you to seek retribution,” Christopher guessed, his head buzzing. He waited for her to slip up and agree but she knew his tactics now.
“He didn’t use me for anything.”
“You lyin’ to me. I love the fuck outta you cuz you lyin’ to protect me.”
“I’m not lying,” she whispered around tears.
“Where the footage where I can fuckin’ prove the story? Lemme see what the fuck happened and he off the hook.”
“There’s no footage from your bedroom,’ Johnnie pointed out. “You have no cameras in there.”
The sound of Johnnie’s voice enraged him so much that he fired. But Megan, sensing his actions, moved quick, and knocked his hand away. It was the second time in a few months she’d stopped him from fucking up a stupid motherfucker.
In October, Christopher had gone to Denver to take care of Sloane Mason’s brother for crimes against the club and Sloane. Kiln had ended up insulting Megan. If she hadn’t been there, Christopher would’ve shot the fuck out of him.
“Christopher, please, stop!” Megan cried. “Think of his children. Rory, Matilda, and JJ. They need him. Kendall needs him.”
Johnnie had lost all color. The shock in his eyes told Christopher he hadn’t thought the day would ever come when Christopher would truly try to kill him.
“CJ, Rebel, Rule, Ryder, and Ransom need you. I fuckin’ need you.”
“Chri
stopher, you’ve got this all wrong,” she insisted. “Mortician and…and J-Johnnie s-saved me. If you k-kill Mortician—or J-Johnnie—you’ll be making a mistake. Punishing the men who protected me. Y-you should reward them, not kill them.”
“Gimme a fuckin’ description of the motherfucker who broke in,” he told her.
“A d-description?” she echoed.
“Yeah! How the motherfucker look? Since these two assfucks decided to fuckin’ fight the motherfucker instead of puttin’ him to fuckin’ ground. Re-fuckin-mind me why that shit happen again?”
“The intruder had a gun, Christopher, “ Johnnie said coolly. “He had Megan in his sight. He released one round and we tackled him. Somehow, he overpowered us and got away. We were trying to keep Megan safe.”
“Motherfucker, you a ace shot. You coulda fuckin’ fucked him up and not got a fuckin’ scratch on my woman.”
“I didn’t want to risk it,” Johnnie insisted.
“Swear to me Johnnie ain’t put his fuckin’ hands on you, Megan.”
Megan bowed her head and wept. Christopher knew she wouldn’t say those words because she couldn’t.
“Mommie!” CJ whined, running to her and hugging her waist. “Don’t cry,” he sniffled, then gave Christopher the side eye. “’Law, stop being mean to Mommie,” he ordered, and hiccupped.
“Get outta here, boy,” Christopher ordered.
Releasing his ma, CJ faced him. “Stop being mean to her, assfuck.” Without warning, he kicked Christopher in the shin, ignoring his yelp and continuing his tirade. “Mudna fucker. Asshole. Fuckhead. Meanie,” he yelled, kicking Christopher again and a final time for good measure that had him hopping around like a fucking dickhead. “Leave my mommie alone before I make you bleed, fuckbag.”
“Fuckbag?” Mortician, Val, and Digger echoed while Christopher got his bearings.
Yeah, fuckbag was new to all of them. Leave it to his boy.
CJ positioned himself in front of Megan and met Christopher’s eyes. “Step away from the mommie.”
Wincing, Christopher limped closer. “Boy, if you wasn’t pro-fuckin-tectin your Ma, I’d beat your lil’ fuckin’ ass for hittin’ me and callin’ me outta my goddamn name,” he growled.
“Leave MegAnn alone, ‘Law. That’s my mommie.”
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 437
