Chapter Twenty-Eight—Christopher
Before he allowed Kendall to endanger herself, Christopher would campaign for war against the Scorpions and their affiliates one last time to his members. He’d fucking scrambled to include as many chapters as possible, even if it was only the presidents.
The Scorpions hid behind dozens of shadow clubs across the country, so Christopher didn’t need only the support of the mother chapter and, in this case, national headquarters, but the entire organization. A war meant everyone’s lives were on the line.
Two and a half hours after calling emergency church, Stretch and Val wheeled in four monitors to bring in the clubs via Zoom. It was turning out to be a long fucking night with fucking up Johnnie and storming to his office to calm down because of CJ.
Once he shoved aside his annoyance, Christopher ordered Mortician to administer extra drugs to Johnnie. Without his fucking influence, Christopher might get enough votes to go to war.
Or, fuck it, move on his own because he was sick to death of motherfucking Bash.
Though Christopher hadn’t seen Hopper in years, he still owed her for helping Megan.
No fucking way would he allow Bash to get to her.
Or Kendall, who was fucking hellbent on meeting with that motherfucker.
Fuck, but she was still such a busy fucking bitch.
He supposed he was feeding into that, but she made a good ally.
Once the meeting was called to order, Christopher didn’t waste time on pleasantries.
“So, you want war?” Cash asked slowly once Christopher presented the facts as if the motherfucker didn’t understand.
Christopher ground his teeth together. He should’ve fucking drugged Cash, too. Or punched the fuck out of him and knocked him the fuck out.
“We already lost three of our members to them, Outlaw,” Chip said from one of the little monitors on the screen, though every motherfucker heard him loud and clear. “We go to outright war, and we’re risking all of us.”
“Losin’ three fuckin’ members already three too fuckin’ many.” Christopher knew Johnnie had killed two of them because he was a dumb motherfucker. It had been on Bash’s orders to save Rory and Ryan’s lives, but still. “Losin’ one fuckin’ member a reason for war.”
“We have a lot to lose,” Frank insisted, another chapter president, this one from Bossier City, Louisiana. “More than I’m willing to risk. Johnnie and I talked a few days ago. He made a compelling case to sue for peace.”
“Even the possibility of an alliance,” someone added.
“Ain’t no fuckin’ alliance with that motherfucker,” Christopher snapped. “Especially with things as they stand.”
“Johnnie told me how hard war would be,” Frank added.
“This not going to be easy,” Christopher admitted, wishing he’d shot Johnnie’s fucking tongue away so he couldn’t use it to undermine the club.
“But we startin’ to look like weak cunts.
Bash runnin’ fuckin’ circles around us. Instead of playin’ fuckin’ cat-and-mouse, lets just fuck them up and get it the fuck over with. ”
“How do we even know which clubs are aligned with them, Outlaw?” Digger grumbled.
Mortician glowered at his brother. If Christopher didn’t know better, he’d think there was an issue between them.
“I’m with Prez,” Mort said before Christopher figured out what the fuck was up. “I’m fucking sick and tired of motherfucking Bash and the Scorpions. They been fucking with a smaller club, trying to smoke us out.”
“Why not take out the smaller club?” Slipper asked around a belch.
“Cuz Dez and the Devils ain’t done fuck all to us. They want us to absorb them.”
“What’s the hold up with that?”
The question came from one of the screens. Judging by the British accent, it sounded like Trav.
“The holdup is they don’t have a viable income stream,” he explained, though that was only half the reason.
They were also a bunch of yellow-bellied, unreliable fuckheads.
“They’d be deadweight. We absorb a club with fifty or sixty motherfuckers that don’t bring something but fucking enemies, and we dilute our resources.
Especially our fuckin’ income. If you want that, I’ll patch those motherfuckers over tomorrow if we agree to take down the Scorps. ”
“Outlaw, as much as I agree that the Scorps need to be dealt with, this isn’t the way,” Cash insisted. “I have a kid to think of. A son.”
Later, he’d tell him the deal: motherfuck your fucking son. Christopher had sons, too.
“We go on fuckin’ lockdown until they dealt with,” Christopher announced for now.
“I didn’t agree to this when you approached me about a chapter in Butte,” Rip said, that chapter’s president said. “I wouldn’t have left the Great Falls chapter.”
“We was…were at peace,” Christopher reminded them. “This not a fuckin’ club full of bitches. Eventually, we rubbin’ some motherfucker the wrong way.”
“This isn’t about the club. It’s about Meggie,” Cash said. “You think Bash wants her, so you want to risk the entire organization.”
“You motherfucker,” Stretch spat, ignoring the raised voices.
Cash knew the chaos those words would cause, because, Johnnie was right. Somewhere along the way, the brothers had stopped respecting Megan.
Maybe they’d lost respect for him. He distributed club money amongst his members.
Made sure viable deals and opportunities were created for all his chapters.
He quashed internal beefs, paid legal fees, sent money to the wives and kids of incarcerated members, and did everything required of him as the club’s leader.
But his chapter no longer got their hands quite as dirty. They sourced shit out to support clubs. He issued orders from the safety of his office or the comfort of his mansion.
His wealth, more than many of them, grew because of Megan. He’d extinguished the threats, stopped attending many of the parties, and only went on a couple yearly runs, because of his wife.
Just as they’d begun to resent CJ for Christopher’s misjudgment, they’d also turned against Megan for the same reason.
“Megan might be the fuckin’ target, but what the fuck difference does it make?”
A fucking lot. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d put his fucking ass on the line for the club. Fires cropped up that he had to involve himself in. And the last three months, he’d been worth shit.
“I’m with you, Outlaw,” Val said, “and any motherfucker too chickenshit to stand with our president, then fuck you. So what if it is about Meggie? He’d go to war for one of our bitches. Why wouldn’t we go to war for his?”
“Bash is a bad motherfucker,” someone said.
Christopher couldn’t bother to identify him.
“But we’re badder,” Diesel said viciously. “I challenge any motherfucker to fuck with me.”
“You think because you Outlaw’s son, that’ll protect you?
” Prince’s heavy voice blared from one of the monitors.
The president of the Idaho Falls chapter had long had a problem with Diesel because of his bitch.
“Johnnie said no one’s a match for Bash.
If John Boy’s afraid of him, you don’t have a fucking chance, Diesel. ”
Diesel bared his teeth, but Christopher held up his hand, warning him to silence.
Bishop got to his feet. “What’s wrong with you motherfuckers? This is Outlaw’s woman. Meggie. She’s not only dedicated herself to her man and their children, but to us. She’s no longer good enough to go to war for?”
Christopher glanced around. Some thought she was. But not enough.
“We love Meggie,” another voice called from the monitor. “It’s not that.”
“Carson’s right,” Skip agreed. “We know Bash infiltrated the club with those girls, Outlaw. Tried to kill your boy. Johnnie said Shine was a fucking Scorp. I laughed and drank with that motherfucker when I was there in December. If you can’t detect a plant, how can we?”
CJ’s overdose wasn’t a secret. Bash infiltrating the club wasn’t as widely known, though it had been discussed at church not long after it happened.
Whatever spin Johnnie put to it hadn’t helped.
“What the fuck you want me to say, Skip?”
“What can you say, Outlaw?” Skip cleared his throat. “You a good fucking Prez, but the way Johnnie laid it out…he’s worried about you. He says Bash almost killed you once. Digger left you vulnerable.”
Fuckhead fucking Johnnie! Lying like a motherfucker and turning Christopher into a scary bitch during his secret meeting with Bash and Cleaner in Roseburg.
“The fuck I did!” Digger yelled, jumping to feet, while Christopher wrestled his temper under control. “I take umbrage to that. Step out that little fucking screen and say that to my fucking face.” He looked at Mortician. “Tell him.”
Mort glowered at his brother, so Digger sat down and threw Mort a dark look.
“Even now, I’m fucking quaking in my boots,” Skip continued, “wondering if Bash has someone here and they’re listening to me.”
Grumbles of agreement rose up.
“CJ’s overdose was a fuckin’ crime of opportunity,” Christopher said.
“But it was because they were our enemies,” Rip reminded him.
“No motherfucker in their right mind would target our president’s son and his wife, yet Bash did that.
He’s a cokehead maniac. When he’s high, he’s ten times worse.
We don’t stand a fucking chance if he had the balls to fuck with you, Outlaw. ”
“What the fuck’s the disconnect here?” Christopher roared, losing his patience and his temper.
“We ain’t standin’ a motherfuckin’ chance cuz we a bunch of divided bitches, tremblin’ like bleedin’ fuckin’ cunts.
We vote to attack. I blow those motherfuckers the fuck out of existence.
If I even fuckin’ suspect a shadow club, I fuck them up, too, and we live in motherfuckin’ peace.
End of fuckin’ story. Case fuckin’ closed. ”
“But—”