Chapter Forty-Eight—CJ
In the ensuing chaos, no one questioned the Triplets about their fucking bomb. That was lost in translation as was the stench and soupy shit.
His little brothers had a fucking shit fetish. Bomb making aside, there was absolutely no goddamn reason for those little assholes to always fuck around with shit.
Realizing they’d doused Dad–poetic justice somehow?—along with Axel, Uncle Johnnie, and Uncle Digger, Ryder and Ransom froze for a split second, widened their eyes and then screamed as if their lives depended on it.
If everyone hadn’t frozen in shock, they would’ve gotten fucked up. Instead, they threw the buckets, turned, and ran back the way they came, their screams trailing behind them.
If there wasn’t enough fuckery, Rebel walked into the kitchen, stepped next to CJ and made a gagging sound.
“Come with me, Momma,” she ordered, assessing the situation and smirking at Dad’s back. “Let them deal—”
Mom glanced over her shoulder and shook her head. “I’m fine, Reb.” She poked Dad. “Go outside and hose yourself off. And I suggest you don’t speak if you don’t want poop in your mouth.”
Turning, Dad made a noise.
“Don’t you dare walk through this house dripping slop, Christopher,” Mom said firmly and pointed in the direction Ryder and Ransom escaped. “Go through the mudroom.”
“That’s not fair, Meggie,” Uncle Digger complained. “The hoses are on the other side of the fucking house.”
“Life’s not fair, Digger,” she replied coldly.
“Come on, Dad.” Choking, Axel grabbed Dad’s hand. “Mom’s right about talking, too. But I know a way. A shortcut.”
“Of course you do,” Mom grumbled.
Dad remained ominously silent.
“Shitty behavior. Shitty reward,” Rebel said gleefully.
Axel huffed and tugged Dad away. Uncle Johnnie followed without comment.
Shocking, but thank goodness for minor miracles.
“I’ll help de-shit them.” Uncle Mort sighed and started off. “Come on, fool,” he called over his shoulder to Uncle Digger.
When the mudroom door opened and Uncle Digger made no move to follow, Mom narrowed her eyes at him.
“Why are you still in my kitchen, Digger?” she demanded.
“It’s cold and damp, and I’m dripping shit. It’ll be too uncomfortable for me—”
“Get the fuck out, fuckhead,” Uncle Val ordered. “This Prez house too, and he followed Meggie’s orders.”
Uncle Digger glared from Mom to Uncle Val.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Digger?” Uncle Val growled.
Rebel started to speak, but she’d only make the situation worse, so CJ shook his head and placed a finger over his lips.
“Don’t give me another reason to dislike you.” Mom’s cold words shocked everyone into silence. “I already have five hundred thousand. Or is it a million? As usual, someone tried to clean up your destructive behavior.”
Uncle Digger’s eyes widened.
If CJ wasn’t mistaken, it sounded as if Mom accused Uncle Digger of stealing money from her. He certainly couldn’t think of five hundred thousand reasons for Mom to dislike anyone.
Regret and shame crossed Uncle Digger’s face, but only for the briefest moment before he glared at Mom.
“It’s not as if you missing that fucking money,” he said, confirming CJ’s suspicions. “You know how to make that back and then some.”
Rebel stiffened. CJ tugged her in front of him, wrapped his arms around her, and rested his chin on her shoulder.
“Goddamn,” Uncle Val said. “You stole from Meggie, motherfucker?”
“Obviously, I missed it if I know it’s gone,” Mom spat, and pointed up. “And there are cameras, idiot.”
Not to mention witnesses.
“As if you didn’t intend to tell Outlaw.” Scorn dripped from Uncle Digger’s voice as rank as the shit dripping from his body.
Mom smirked. “What should I tell him? You won’t get out of my house or you stole his money? What would get you killed quicker and make my life easier?”
“I stole Prez money?” Uncle Digger squeaked.
“That’s your fucking take away?” Uncle Val asked in outrage.
“Yes!” Rebel screamed wildly. “Yes, it is because he’s a stupid motherfucker,” she continued just as Diesel entered from the hallway and Uncle Mort walked in from the mudroom.
Probably because he’d been waiting for his brother and the motherfucker was too lost in fuckery.
“He doesn’t realize Mom won’t order his fucking guts yanked out through his mouth and fucking barbequed because of Uncle Mort. ”
CJ lost his hold on her and she rushed Uncle Digger, punching him in his fucking mouth. Although Bishop and Kaia tried to pull her away, she punched Uncle Digger again and delivered a few kicks.
Diesel walked to her, ignored her struggles, and yanked her back, rescuing Uncle Digger. By then, the motherfucker was on the floor beaten, bloody and still dripping slop.
“Do any of you motherfuckers respect my mother?” Rebel demanded.
“Do you?” Uncle Digger struggled to a sitting position. “You see that little cunt as a weakling, so you always fight her fucking battles. If you fucking didn’t, you’d step the fuck out of the way and let the fucking chips fall where they may.”
“My whole fucking family lost their goddamn minds,” Uncle Mort complained, reaching for Uncle Digger.
The motherfucker crawled away.
“Yeah, they have, Uncle Mort,” Rebel said harshly, struggling against Diesel’s hold.
“But this motherfucker?” She pointed to Uncle Digger who was darting around the kitchen like a jackass to escape Uncle Mort’s wrath and smearing shit everywhere.
“That’s your fucking fault. You left Harley to face the consequences when she turned into a raging bitch, yet you always protect this grown greedy motherfucker who needs to face the outcome of his own bad fucking behavior. ”
Uncle Mort froze, the pain and regret on his face hurting CJ. Uncle Val averted his gaze, obviously agreeing with Rebel.
Mom sat on a stool. “Put Rebel down, Diesel, and get Digger. Rebel, call Stretch and tell him the situation.” She dug in her pocket and produced her phone. She held it out to Reb.
Once Rebel followed Mom’s orders, Uncle Mort sat heavily next to her and bowed his head.
Diesel pointed a gun at Uncle Digger’s head.
Uncle Mortician went ashen. “Meggie–”
“What do you want me to do with him, Aunt Meggie?” Diesel sounded entirely too fucking happy.
“Bash him in the skull, yank out his brain, and toss his body to crocodiles,” Rebel said resentfully, throwing Mom’s phone on the breakfast bar.
“The idea has merit but that would devastate your Uncle Mort and Aunt Bunny,” Mom said as if she’d ever allow such a gruesome fate. “Take him outside and hose him down, Diesel.”
Disappointment crossed Diesel’s face, but he nodded.
Mom swept CJ with a look, then nodded to the stools on the other side. “You two sit,” she told him and Rebel.
Immediately, tension settled into CJ. He’d disappointed her, which was the last thing he wanted, especially after her insight freed something inside him. No wonder Dad had been Outlaw for so many years. Behind every powerful man, there was a strong woman.
Mom rubbed Uncle Mort’s back, then leaned her head against his bicep.
“While I agree you should allow Digger to face the music, I understand why you can’t,” she said softly. “Most of the time, his actions endanger his life. But he’s beginning to take advantage of that privilege.”
“You got to get the motherfucker in line, Mort,” Uncle Val agreed.
“We all know how it feel to wait for Prez to issue a life-or-death verdict. But being a kid saved Ryan. Digger keeps fucking with Meggie lately. Now, Outlaw going to want to know why the fuck he beat up and who the fuck did it? If he find out it was Reb, he’ll know it had something to do with Meggie. ”
He let those words sink in, patted Uncle Mort’s back and headed toward the mudroom. A moment later, the snick of a closing door reached them.
“Leave Digger alone for tonight,” Mom advised, lifting her head. “Check on Bunny. She left early because she knows what happened. He placed her in a terrible predicament and she’s quite upset. She loves him, though. Like you do.”
“What the fuck can I tell her, Meggie?”
“I asked her if she wants a bigger house and she said that she does,” Mom said. “Digger drained their accounts, Mortician. On gambling, then he gambled away what he won. Money has always been his problem.”
“I thought Bunny was handling the accounts.”
“He told her she was treating him as a child and demanded more access,” Meggie said. “Now, he’s waiting for the quarterly residuals from your parents’ estates to gamble that away too. Not to build Bunny’s house or to repay me or anything responsible.”
“Fuck,” Uncle Mort said.
“Suppose he wouldn’t receive quarterly residuals from Sharper’s estate and your mother’s money? Suppose the club wasn’t financially solid? Suppose I didn’t know how to trade?”
“That stupid motherfucker would be better off!” Uncle Mortician snarled.
Mom shook her head. “Doubtful. Digger had more than enough money to build Bunny a mansion and pay for the infrastructure.”
“No, Meggie girl. Since I pay for the upkeep of our LA mansion and share some of the club expenses, I told him I wanted seventy percent.” Uncle Mort scrubbed a hand over his face. “This my fucking fault. If I would’ve split it the way–”
“He would’ve just wasted that, too,” Mom said firmly. “Digger likes to spend money and gamble. He also wanted to find another way to hurt me.”
“I’m so sorry—”