Chapter Twenty-Eight—Christopher #2
“No fuckin’ buts,” he snarled to whoever the fuck said that.
“Let’s leave Megan the fuck out of this.
What about you motherfuckers? Your bitches?
Your lil’ motherfuckers? Bash already fucked up some of our members.
You wanna sit the fuck around until this motherfucker get tired of playin’ fuckin’ games and really start pickin’ us the fuck off? ”
“Johnnie said Bash is bored,” Skip insisted. “And in need of money.”
“Ain’t no motherfuckin’ way that motherfucker gettin’ a cent of club money or my money,” Christopher growled.
“Why not?” Rip said again. “Cash and Johnnie said you sanctioned a fifty grand a month fee without club approval.”
These motherfuckers wanted to sue for fucking peace over gossip?
Unfuckinbelievable.
Christopher forgot to ask Rip if he was out his motherfucking mind believing Johnnie and Cash before he stormed to McCall and punched him in his fucking mouth.
“If you wanna be a pussy ass cunt, get the fuck out my fuckin’ club, motherfucker. You fuckin’ underminin’ me puttin’ all us in danger just cuz my sister pushed out a kid to carry your fuckin’ name?” He punched him again. “Fuck you.”
Breathing heavily, Cash wiped his bloody mouth and nose and leaned his head on the table.
“I ain’t—”
“Johnnie produced receipts,” Skip inserted.
“Outlaw, we appreciate you and want to stand by you, but we’re running scared.”
“Bash—”
“Gave the order to kill CJ because you ordered Johnnie to stop paying,” Rip interrupted before Christopher explained Johnnie was a lying motherfucker.
“If Megan in danger, then it’s my fuckin’ problem,” Christopher spat. “I’ll take care of those motherfuckers.”
“I’m with Outlaw,” Potter said.
“Me, too,” Narci said, which was echoed by Bishop, Torrin, Zephyr, Pike, Slipper, Orange, and Huck.
“Let’s take the fuckin’ vote,” Christopher growled.
The vote was split almost fifty-fifty, but somehow, Cash and his motherfuckers won.
“Outlaw, you’re coming up for re-election next year,” Art said, a big Texan who was the president of their Houston chapter.
“We don’t want you going lone wolf on us.
It’ll still put us in danger. I would vote for Johnnie or Cash as National President.
However your brothers vote, that’ll be on them. ”
“You can still protect Meggie by suing for peace and paying Bash what he wants for our safety,” Rip said.
Never fucking happening.
“You wanted the vote, Outlaw,” Art said. “You got it. Honor it or we’ll be more than happy to call a special meeting to levy sanctions against you and vote for your removal.”
“Johnnie promised us peace as long as we could reach an agreement and stick to it,” Skip revealed.
Because Johnnie was a motherfucker. If Christopher killed him now, he’d divide the club, much like it had been after Big Joe’s death.
And he was making no headway with his brothers.
Johnnie had convinced men who’d been staunch allies of Christopher to turn their backs on him.
No matter his arguments, he wouldn’t change their minds.
“Listen up, motherfuckers,” Christopher snarled, so angry he shook. “You wanna keep me as your Prez and fuckin’ force me to seek peace with Bash? Ima do it.”
“You don’t have a choice, Outlaw,” Rip said, eliciting snickers.
Wanting every motherfucker who’d voted against him to see he was livid enough to blow them all the fuck up, Christopher walked amongst the members. He glared at the turncoats, enjoying the unease on their faces. He nodded to his allies before returning to the podium.
“Ima do it,” he reiterated. “Under one fuckin’ condition.”
“You aren’t in a position to bargain if you want to stay president.” Art’s voice blared from the screen. “But for fairness, let’s hear your terms.”
“One thing,” Christopher growled, holding up a lone finger to emphasize his point.
“If I’m fuckin’ right and something happen to Megan cuz you motherfuckers against me?
Fuckin’ run because Ima fuck every last one of you motherfuckers up.
And if I ain’t able to fuckin’ leave, my kid—” He nodded to Diesel— “will be more than happy to bring your fuckin’ pieces to me. ”
Despite Prince’s earlier claim, many of them knew Diesel and suddenly looked sick. Some of them shifted. Cleared their fucking throats.
“We aren’t wrong,” Art said with less confidence than before. “We…uh…as you…as you pointed out…uh…this isn’t only…uh…it’s not o-only about us. You…you w-won’t r-risk Meggie and, uh, neither would we!”
Lying motherfucker. They’d just voted against him because of her.
“We wouldn’t risk our families either,” Rip blurted. “If we…there’s no need to threaten us! We aren’t wrong.”
“Meggie’s a wonderful woman. We love her to death,” Skip swore, stealing another motherfucker’s lie as if he didn’t have one of his own. If they loved her so fucking much, they wouldn’t gamble with her life. “We’d never leave her open to danger. Never.”
“Outlaw?” Diesel called.
Shoving his fingers through his hair and feeling as if he’d failed his wife, Christopher looked at his son. “Yeah, boy?”
“If I may make a suggestion?”
Christopher walked behind the podium, lit a cigarette, then nodded to Diesel. “Floor’s yours.”
“Thank you.” Diesel stood and smiled at everyone. He looked so fucking affable to the ordinary observer. Only his soulless eyes gave away his heartlessness to those who understood. “I don’t think killing your opponents is the answer if you’re right, Outlaw.”
Ignoring the murmurs of agreement, Christopher enjoyed his cigarette and waited for Diesel to continue. He knew that innocent assertion wasn’t the end.
“I should kill them,” Diesel said, holding his smile. “I’ve always wanted to practice scalping. In the heat of the moment, it slips my mind.”
“Can’t you survive a scalping?” Val asked, ignoring the gasps and grumbles.
Christopher hadn’t appreciated a smoke this much in days. “An attached scalp pretty fuckin’ important, fuckhead.”
“Would someone volunteer to be my guinea pig?” Diesel turned in a circle and pointed at random motherfuckers with, “You?” and “How about you?”
If assfucks slid any lower under their table, they’d end up on the goddamn floor.
“I volunteer Cash and Johnnie,” Christopher said, pleased at Cash’s horror, although he regretted Stretch’s fear.
“For tonight?” Diesel asked hopefully.
“No!” Cash yelled. “Nothing’s going to happen to Meggie. And, if it does, I’ll be the first to volunteer to fuck up anyone who’s responsible.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Christopher snarled, “cuz, motherfucker, if something happen to Megan, Diesel ain’t only scalpin’ you, I’m fuckin’ skinnin’ you.”
“I’m your brother-in-law!”
“Show me the motherfuckin’ marriage license where you married Fee,” Christopher said.
Mars stood from where he sat at a table in the middle of the floor. He had a handlebar mustache, a bald head, and a fucking lily liver, voting with Cash and crew. “Can someone call Meggie? She don’t like all this killing, Outlaw. She’ll save us.”
A buzzing started in Christopher’s head and it felt as if he’d run a fucking mile. The red haze clouding his vision could’ve been glimpses of blood or maybe even the fires of hell.
“Fuck, man.” Digger sidled a glare at Mars. “Sit the fuck down. I don’t feel like being on brain detail tonight.”
“I’m not saying nothing bad, Digger,” Mars protested.
“Motherfucker, you just voted against war with Bash because of Meggie,” Mort said with disgust. “Now, you want to call her to save you?”
Diesel walked to his side. “I’ll handle it, Uncle Christopher,” he whispered. “If you pull your piece, you might not stop at that stupid motherfucker.”
He sure the fuck wouldn’t. He’d shoot all those motherfuckers who’d voted against him. Balling his hands into fists to remain still, Christopher nodded.
Smiling happily, Diesel walked back to the space between the podium and the tables and beckoned Mars over. As the motherfucker weaved his way forward, Diesel pulled up a chair.
“I don’t mind talking on behalf of everyone, Diesel,” Mars said, seating himself.
“How very nice of you.” Diesel walked behind Mars and pulled a blade from inside his cut, then slid the knife down the center of Mars’s head. His scream echoed around them.
Enjoying himself too goddamn much, Diesel sliced a few times before shoving the blade in Mars’s head. Then, he pulled it away, ignoring the jerks and twitches, and peeling away the top layer of skin.
Mars tipped over and slammed onto the floor.
“Sorry, Outlaw,” Diesel said, not fucking sorry at all. “I botched that. I’ll need more practice. Anyone else willing to use my mom for their own selfish purposes and then desert her in her time of need?” He shielded his eyes with a bloody hand as if the lights blinded him. “Anyone?”
A few motherfuckers burst into tears. His boy’s show was a potent reminder of Diesel’s insanity. A hindrance in some instances, an asset in others. In that circumstance, it was definitely the latter. Had he shown his ruthlessness prior to the count, the motherfuckers might’ve voted correctly.
But too fuckin’ little, too fuckin’ late. Shit had gone off the rails, to no avail. The fear Diesel’s stunt caused was pleasing, but it didn’t erase Christopher’s crushing fucking disappointment at the meeting’s outcome.
For now, war was off the table.
With nothing else to do, Christopher adjoined the meeting. Returning to his office, he called Kendall and gave her the go-ahead to set up the meeting with Bash.