“What might that be, sugar?”
“I might know where Meggie is being held,” Kendall murmured, lowering her lashes.
At first, she thought Roxy hadn’t heard. The silence stretched so long, Kendall couldn’t resist looking at her.
Shock and disgust marred Roxy’s features. “For fucking real, Kendall?” she shouted, then shook her head in denial. “No, I didn’t hear what I think I did.” She stuck her index fingers in each other and wiggled. “My hearing’s fucked up. My ears deceive me.”
“I think I know where Meggie is,” Kendall repeated, louder, when Roxy dropped her hands.
“By all that’s fucking holy, girl, you’re just revealing this shit now?” Roxy yelled. “The child could be dead!”
“I didn’t know what to do or how to tell anyone. Johnnie just forgave me about the drugging. If I confess this, he’s going to be so angry with me!”
“Why? What the fuck have you done now?”
“Oh, Roxy.” Kendall rushed to Roxy and hugged her. “I’m so ashamed.” Bitter tears streaked her face as the entire story fell from her lips, from the way she’d first met Randolph to how she’d dropped him off at his house. “Say something,” she pleaded, once she was finished.
“Say something?” Roxy demanded, her face darkening. “SAY SOMETHING? I can’t believe you! You’re some fucking piece of work. You know what? Never mind. Fuck it.”
Roxy started for the door, but, Kendall couldn’t allow her to leave. This time, she might not ever forgive her.
Running behind her, Kendall grabbed Roxy’s waist. “Please, please, please! Don’t leave me. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think Randolph would listen to me. I never meant for him to. I just didn’t want to be kidnapped, so I said all those things to him about Meggie.” She covered her face. “If Johnnie finds out, he’ll hate me.”
“If Outlaw finds out, he’ll kill you,” Roxy gritted, jerking away from Kendall and rounding on her. “Goddamn it, girl. Do you ever get tired of fucking up? Ever?” She shook her head and closed her eyes. “Jesus Christ, this is so fucking bad.”
“Don’t hate me. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for Meggie to be taken.”
Roxy glowered at her. “I’ll believe that when pigs fucking fly. You knew what the fuck you were doing. Your ass practically said, here, take this bitch instead of my ass.”
“No—”
“Shut the fuck up.” Roxy heaved in a breath, then stalked to the door. “Stay the fuck in here. I have to find Mortician. I’d rather tell this to him than Outlaw or Johnnie. Those motherfuckers will never fuck my ass up cuz of your dumb ass.”
“I’m so sorry,” Kendall said in a small voice.
In response, Roxy left the room and slammed the door behind her.
DIVING FOR COVER, JOHNNIE COVERED his head as glass, wood, and debris rained around him in a cloud of smoke. Luckily, he’d seen Christopher flip the switch or else he would’ve been blown the fuck up.
This third place they’d firebombed today was only the beginning. Riley had sent Christopher a list of all the Imperials with addresses, names, birthdates, every statistic available, and Christopher meant to use the information to wipe the entire organization from the face of the earth. Wherever an Imperials chapter was located, Christopher forwarded the information to either one of the Dwellers’ support clubs or one of their chapters in that particular area.
Sirens wailed in the distance, propelling Johnnie to action. He jumped to his feet and ran to Christopher’s pickup, hurrying in the driver’s seat and speeding off, not saying anything to Christopher, who was scratching the address off his list.
Adrenaline pumped through Johnnie. These were the moments, he lived and died for. They coordinated everything so perfectly. Christopher’s planning was an exact science. The rest of them just had to fall in line, and do their parts.
Cash supplied the explosives. Luckily, Christopher had already been planning an attack on the Imperials, and they’d already begun stockpiling what was needed. Stretch took care of any type technological needs.
Johnnie hoped like fuck Stretch successfully scrambled whatever security cameras were nearby. If not, they were all fucked.
In silence, Johnnie headed to the park, near the creek where Megan had once lived. Mort, Val, and Digger were already there. It was hidden here, quiet, the safest spot for them to meet and strategize the next phase of plan B.
“We got burgers,” Val said as Johnnie and Christopher walked to where the other three lounged on their parked bikes.
“French fries, too,” Digger announced, chomping on a handful. “Prez, I got an extra-large fry for you.” Leaning down, he picked up a greasy, white paper bag from the ground and started to toss it.
“You can have it. Ain’t hungry.” Christopher went to Mortician and grabbed the map of Portland from him, since some of the addresses were in unincorporated areas, unfamiliar to even them.
“Prez, I’m not trying to annoy you,” Digger started.
Mortician glared at him. “Then shut the fuck up and you’ll succeed.”
“Come on, Mort. I got to say this. Look at Outlaw. Haven’t shaved since Megan was lifted. Probably haven’t showered either.” Digger held up a finger. “Wait, I got the perfect thing.” Placing both his Christopher’s burger bags on the ground, he lifted his saddle bag and pulled out deodorant. “What about a lil skeet-skeet under each arm? I mean, I can’t do it. My nose might fall off, Prez.”
Instead of responding, Christopher took the map and walked away, skirting the edge of the creek, until he got to the small foot bridge and crossed to the other side, where he found a spot to sit. He laid out the map on the ground, then did fuck-all but stare into the distance.
“Yo, Outlaw,” Val called, following the same path Christopher had taken.
“I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings,” Digger said glumly.
“Would you shut the fuck up?” Mortician advised. “The man suffering and your dumb ass talking about his goddamn armpits.”
“Yeah, I hadn’t gotten around to mentioning his teeth yet or the mouthwash I got,” Digger said.
“It’s not even four fucking days he haven’t cleaned up,” Mortician growled.
“Don’t give a fuck, Mort,” Digger responded. “He must have extra sweat glands. Or nerves are making him sweat like a motherfucker. His face all full of hair. His hair not combed.”
“Shut up, Digger,” Johnnie ordered, tired of Digger’s conversation. “No one has seen him eat, either, but I don’t hear you trying to force food into him. I’m more concerned about that, than I am about the way he smells.”
“John Boy right, dumb ass,” Mortician said. “You his sergeant-at-arms. Go and sit with him, and don’t mention a goddamn thing about showers, teeth brushing, or anything else.”
“Aww, Mort, do I have to? I don’t have a clothes pin to seal up my nose or nothing.”
“Go, motherfucker,” Mortician said in a no-nonsense tone. “It’s not bothering Val. You’ll survive.”
“It wouldn’t bother Val,” Digger complained. “He’s not normal.”
“Get the fuck away from me,” Mortician said with disgust.
Stomping away, Digger took the same path as Christopher and Val, leaving Johnnie alone with Mort.
They were silent a moment. He hadn’t had a chance to speak to Mortician about the day Johnnie had been strangling Megan. Then, he’d been infuriated. Now, he was grateful. Luckily, he wouldn’t have had to live long with his misery and guilt if he’d killed her.
Christopher would’ve annihilated him.
“You hungry, John Boy?” Mortician asked before Johnnie could bring that day up.
“I haven’t had much of an appetite lately,” Johnnie admitted, wondering if it was better to leave well enough alone.
“You not hungry because of Red or Meggie?”
Johnnie shrugged. “Both, I suppose, but it started with Kendall.”
Mortician lit a joint, took a puff, then offered i
t to Johnnie. It had been a while since he’d enjoyed Aunt Mary. Kendall didn’t like him to be high, so he tried to respect her wishes.
Not that it mattered to her. She went out of her way to disrespect his. Grabbing the roll from Mort, Johnnie put it to his lips and inhaled, holding the smoke in, savoring the taste, the initial rush that morphed into a hazy relaxation.
“Roxanne called me,” Mortician started as Johnnie handed the joint back to him.
“About?” Why should a call from Roxanne be important to him? “For the past couple of days, she’s barely spoken to Kendall, so what’s up? Why should I know about her call?”
Sidling a sympathetic glance at him, Mortician hit the joint, closing his eyes as he inhaled. “This shit getting better and better,” he commented.
“What about Roxanne?” Johnnie pressed, snatching the joint from Mortician and hitting it again.
Mortician sighed. “She got information about Meggie.”
Johnnie stopped in the midst of flicking his lighter to fire up the joint again. “Like what?” he asked slowly.
Scrubbing a hand over his face, Mortician shrugged. “Her potential location.”
“What? And you’re sitting your ass there like you don’t have a fucking care in the world,” he said through clenched teeth. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you telling me and not Chris…” As his voice trailed off, an image of Kendall rose in his head. “No, Mort. No. Tell me Kendall isn’t involved in this.”
“I would if I could. I can’t,” he said with sadness. “I’m going to do my best to cover for her. I can only do so much, though. Prez going to want to know how I got this information. Maybe, not immediately, but eventually. Then, what?”
“Tell me how is Kendall involved?” A part of him didn’t want to believe it, but he knew her. She got into more shit than a kindergartner at recess. More than that, she played with people’s lives, including her own and especially his.
“Roxanne texted me the address,” Mortician said after he finished relating every sorry detail of Kendall’s story. “We all got lists for the Imperials, and I checked the information Roxanne sent against the lists Riley gave Outlaw. Sure enough, the address on there. Red confessed for nothing. Prez would’ve found Meggie girl by the end of the day cuz of the address on his list.”
Fury and a renewed sense of betrayal wove into Johnnie. All the hopes and dreams he’d had for their future crashed and burned. “I’m going to fucking kill her,” he snarled.
“No, Johnnie, you not,” Mortician said calmly. “You love her too much.”
“I fucking hate her,” he countered. “She almost cost me my life. Now, she’s fucking with Megan’s life, which, in turn, fucks with Christopher.”
“And, in turn, causes you to get fucked up anyway, since she’s your bitch,” Mortician pointed out.
God. Christopher. Johnnie was as good as dead. Christopher wouldn’t stop until he discovered the entire story and then he’d blame both Johnnie and Kendall.
“I’m dead. Both she and I are,” Johnnie whispered.
Mort patted him on the back. “Not if I can help it, brother. All I ask is you find a way to get Red back a line. She’s over the fucking top, Johnnie. Maybe, you need to think about leaving the club, so she could be the attorney she wants to be. Outlaw can’t ban her from her career if you aren’t associated with the club anymore.”
“I could also leave her,” he barked. “No matter what the hell I do I can’t make Kendall happy. I try my hardest, but it’s never enough. She fucking drugged me, Mortician, to have her goddamn way.”
“You’ll figure it out. Right now, I got to carefully explain this to Outlaw.”
As Mortician walked away, Johnnie thought about Kendall. This time, she’d gone too fucking far. Not because it was Megan, but because after she’d tried to manipulate him into agreeing with her by filling him with dangerous pills, she’d left him vulnerable to a gruesome death at Christopher’s hands.
After doing her shit, she hadn’t even had the decency to warn him.
Well, fuck her.
He.
Was.
DONE!
SHIVERING IN THE COLD ON the hard, concrete floor, and curled into a ball, Meggie imagined Christopher’s arms wrapped around her, warming her up.
Sometimes, her skin felt frozen. Other times, she shook, but sweat poured from her body. Her lips were cracked and bloody. Whenever she licked them, a metallic taste filled her mouth.
“Christopher,” she mumbled, wretched and miserable. In the morning, after he shaved, he always smelled like spice. She loved his scent.
Hopefully, he was functioning enough to take care of their kids. She was so worried about all of them, although Ransom was too young to really miss her for too long. Actually, when she thought about it, all the kids were.
Soon, she’d die. Death waited for her, only hours away from claiming her.
Someone else would raise her children. They’d only know her as the one who’d given birth to each of them. Her memory would fade from their minds.
A sob rose in her throat, but a sneeze escaped her instead.
She was dirty, grimy, hungry, thirsty, and now, sick. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten or gotten a glass of water. For that matter, she hadn’t seen Mystic either. He’d just left here there.
To die, alone and in the dark.
She sniffled. She’d had a good life. Being loved by Christopher—loving him—had been an honor. He’d been the best thing that had ever happened to her. He’d given her beautiful children, an amazing life, and unconditional love.
Maybe, she’d found it all while she was still so young because she hadn’t been fated to stay on this earth into her senior years.
“Megan!”
From a distance, Christopher’s voice came to her, and she smiled. He’d always be in her heart, her soul. If the sound of his voice was her last memory, she’d die happy.
She was trying her best to hold on until he found her. Even in her state, she knew he was leaving no stone unturned to bring her home. But she was so cold. And tired. She just wanted to sleep forever.
“Megan, baby, you in there? I ain’t got many other fuckin’ places to look.”
“Y-yes. I-I’m here,” she croaked, the effort taking all her strength.
Banging on the door hurt her head. The lock rattled. Christopher. He was there for her.
But, no. Where they had her, he’d never find her. Mystic was back. He hadn’t forgotten about her, after all.
Shudders racked her and her eyes slipped closed, the sudden still silence reminding her Christopher’s voice had been a sweet illusion in her fading mind.
“Get the fuck away from the fuckin’ door,” the Christopher in her head called again.
“O-okay,” Meggie mumbled, tears slipping from her eyes. She just wanted to see him one last time. Then, she’d be happy.
“I gotta shoot the motherfuckin’ lock,” her Christopher said.
She licked her lips. “’Kay.”
The gunfire startled her, and she jumped at how real it sounded.
Sunlight streamed in and footsteps pounded down the steps.
“Megan!” Christopher shouted. “You in here?”
In the corner, in darkness. Dreaming of her husband. She smiled. “Y-yes, C-C-Christopher,” she managed through her dry lips, unsure if the words actually came out or not. She moaned.
A light shone on her, and she closed her eyes, hurting from head to toe.
“Oh, baby! Megan. My Megan.” Christopher’s voice cracked, then he cleared his throat. “She here!” he yelled, his voice closer, his scent invading her nostrils.
His arms wrapped around her, and gently pulled her to a sitting position, but her head was too heavy to hold up, so it lulled.
“I gotcha, Megan. Hold the fuck on ‘til I getcha to the hospital.”
“C-cold,” she said.
His arms left her, and she moaned in protest, until he cocoone
d her in soft material, and lifted her into his arms. He held her tight to him, touched his chin to her head.
“C-C-J?” she whimpered.
“CJ safe, Megan.”
She turned her face into his chest.
“You safe, too.”
“’Kay.”
He fell into silence and started moving. His footsteps pounded on the wooden stairs.
Megan turned her face up, feeling the fresh air, the sun.
“Is she alive?” Val asked on a gasp.
“Yeah,” Christopher said thickly.
Johnnie’s face loomed above her. “Oh, fuck, thank fuck.”
“Meggie girl, I’m so fucking happy to see you,” Mortician said.
“Th-thank you,” she muttered, snuggling against her husband. “I-I kn-knew y-you’d c-come f-for m-me, C-Christopher.”
He kissed her forehead. “Always, Megan,” he whispered. “My ass’ll move heaven and hell to find you.”
“Let’s get her to the ER,” Digger said, as Christopher sat Meggie on his bike and held her.
“Ima harness you to me with CJ shit, baby. I ain’t thought this shit through. I ain’t gonna letcha fall.”
“I kn-know.”
Once Christopher secured her to him, he jumpstarted his bike. Soon, the rumble of motorcycles beat through Meggie. Christopher had found her in time. She was alive. The feeling of impending death disintegrated. She’d make it.
Leaning forward, she rested her head against Christopher’s back, leaving her care in his hands, which was exactly where she wanted to be.
IT WAS OVER. MEGAN was safe. Although her captors had gotten away, several of the Imperial’s chapters—in Hortensia and elsewhere—had been blown out of existence.
The image of a grateful Christopher, clinging to his wife two hours ago, tore at Johnnie’s soul. The outcome could’ve been different.
Tragic.
And Kendall, his wife, the mother of his children, would’ve been solely responsible. Pieces of a conversation floated through Johnnie’s head. He’d been in a booth with Kendall—and Randolph…? He couldn’t remember everything. That had to have been during one of his drugged states—again solely Kendall’s fault. Yet, the words the lowly wife of the lowly vice-president juxtaposed with you want to hit the club bad, get Meggie, Outlaw’s old lady.
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 448
