Chapter Forty-One – Christopher #2
“My Megan hidin’,” Christopher barked. “But Ima smoke her out one way or the other.” He should’ve quit while he was ahead the other night.
When she’d been sobbing so pitifully like his Sweet Angel.
He just hadn’t been able to believe Rule jumped out of a window.
Now, he couldn’t fucking believe Megan would go through with her hysterectomy.
“If I ignore her the way she ignorin’ me, she ain’t gonna like it.
I ain’t even goin’ to try to enter our bedroom. Ima eat at the club.”
“That might fuckin’ backfire, Outlaw,” Val said. “It might just piss her off more.”
“Val’s right,” Stretch said. “When Fee told her what the Triplets did, Meggie’s response was they should’ve sewn Cash’s stupid lips shut.”
Fuck.
“Meggie girl right,” Mortician said grimly. “Payback for his fucking vote.”
“We got a meetin’ with Derby,” he said, another idea coming to him. “Hopefully, Diesel will get home in a day or two.”
“Why?” Val asked suspiciously.
“Cuz,” he whispered. “Ima have him and his friends bring Cash and Johnnie to the meatshack. Stretch, you go with them and call Megan. Ima be at home and she’s gonna have to come to me to beg for their lives.”
“What if she doesn’t?” Stretch asked, his fear hard to miss.
“We’ll let them go,” Christopher said, satisfied with his plan.
“Uh, Prez, an apology is simpler and can do the same thing all your scheming might,” Mort pointed out.
“Yeah, but only temporarily. This shit Megan doin’ gotta stop.
I’m about to lose my goddamn mind. If I gotta put another kid in her, ignore the fuck out of her, or fuck up half the world so she’ll beg me to stop, Ima win this war she wagin’ no matter what the fuck I gotta do.
” If Megan treated him the same way, he wouldn’t give a fuck.
He’d let her be Hell Goddess, but he wouldn’t sit idly by and lose his fucking wife. “Let’s ride.”
Derby’s clubhouse was in northwest Portland bordered by miles of forest, a few streets, and the Willamette.
With some of the money the Burning Hounds earned as a Dweller support club, Derby had upgraded security and fencing installed and renovated the clubhouse, making the stage for their strippers the focal point.
The Hounds’ girls earned money by dancing and whoring, although the club took most of the profits.
Christopher had never agreed with that, but it wasn’t his club, so he shut the fuck up.
However, what annoyed him most of all about Derby was the motherfucker always trying to tempt Christopher into fucking over Megan.
Even after Christopher killed those two bitches Derby tried to set him up with, the motherfucker didn’t learn his lesson and sent a horde of blondes over the moment Christopher and his boys sat.
All Megan needed to do was smell another woman’s perfume on him and he was fucking done for. She hated when he visited Derby’s clubhouse, but usually she had common sense. Unreasonable little motherfucker that she currently was, she’d believe Christopher fucked one of the girls.
His Megan saw the good and believed in people. She excused unacceptable behavior and listened to explanations. She valued life and love, and protected both at all costs. This Megan seized on the bad and trusted no one. She didn’t want explanations. She wanted blood.
Instead of making a big deal out of the women at the table, Christopher ordered a set-up, tipped each of them, and sent them on their way.
He ignored the naked girls on the stage, each performing acrobats on the pole, and showing their pussies to anyone who cared to look.
The music, a cross between goth and porn background tunes, gave him a fucking headache. His hard cock didn’t fucking help.
“Why we here again, Prez?” Mort asked irritably when the song ended and the three girls started fucking, encouraged by the hoots and hollers of some Hounds. He rested his arms on the table and averted his head away from the stage.
“Derby asked for the meeting,” Christopher answered, glancing over his shoulder toward the bar, so crowded with motherfuckers, he couldn’t see the bartender. “He ain’t here, so maybe I missed him.”
“Hey, boys,” Gypsy greeted, inserting herself between Christopher and Mortician and smiling at them. “I heard you were dropping in. I hung around to say hi.”
“Back with the motherfucker again, huh, babe?” Christopher shook his head. “He don’t deserve you.”
She forced a smile, but it didn’t help the misery so clear in her expression. “So I’ve been told.” She kissed Christopher’s cheek, then Mortician’s, and waved at the other three.
She’d been quite pretty when she was younger. Christopher never slept with her but, if he remembered correctly, Johnnie and Mortician had.
Squeals and moans floated to them, and she frowned, remembered her charade, and grinned again. “How’s Meggie?”
Christopher grunted.
“Oh stop,” Gypsy said with genuine laughter. “You two will work it out. You always do.”
“She called you, too, babe?” Val asked.
“Bunny did.” She pinned Digger with a glare and sniffed.
Christopher squinted at that motherfucker, almost one hundred percent certain something was up. Because he’d been the one to fuck with Megan, not Digger. Her sniff should’ve been directed at him.
“I’m coming!” one girl yelled.
He’d had enough. Before he killed Digger, Christopher got to his feet. “Tell Derby I stopped in—”
“He’s…he’s in his office.” Gypsy’s nostrils flared and she gripped the back of the chair he’d just vacated. “I can bring you to one of the private rooms until…until he’s finished.”
“I’m finished now, Gyp,” Derby said, walking up to them.
A dark-haired girl stood next to him. She was naked and flushed with swollen nipples and love bites on her chest, neck, and thighs. Dried cum stuck to her cheeks and belly. She smirked at Gypsy, who looked so humiliated Christopher’s heart went out to her.
Was she a stupid bitch for repeatedly reconciling with Derby? Fuck yeah, but that didn’t mean Christopher couldn’t feel sorry for her.
“Nita’s pussy is nice and tight,” Derby said, “and it’s as sweet tasting as candy. She’s the new special. A hundred for a dick suck, two fifty for pussy with a condom, five hundred for a creampie, seven-fifty to fuck her in her ass, a thousand to eat her out, and three thousand for all of it.”
“That’s a fuckin’ upcharge, fuckhead, not a bargain. With the prices you quoted, it’s twenty-six-hundred dollars to order the shit separately.”
“Four hundred dollars for using the room all night long,” Derby said. “So, what do you say?”
Nita closed the gap between them and pressed herself against Christopher. “I’ve spilled Derby’s creampie,” she breathed. “I’d love if you make another one.”
Christopher met her brown gaze and smiled. “You got two fuckin’ seconds to get the fuck away from me before I shoot the fuck out of you.”
Apparently, Nita didn’t believe him because she laughed. “I’ll give you head.”
Megan hated when he killed women, especially innocent ones. Technically, Nita was innocent. She was just following Derby’s fucked-up lead. He was the motherfucker Christopher should shoot for repeatedly doing this bullshit. But Megan wouldn’t care. She hated Derby.
“Babe?” Val called as Mortician, Digger, and Stretch stood. “Hey, babe, why don’t you get us some drinks?”
“But—” Nita swung her gaze to Derby, who nodded. “Are you going to pay me?” she squeaked.
Glancing uneasily at Christopher, Derby winked at her, patted her ass, and sent her to the bar.
“I told your motherfuckin’ ass if you ever did this shit afuckingain, I was fuckin you up,” Christopher snarled.
“And Meggie and Rebel just got out of the fucking hospital,” Val said with disapproval. “We don’t fuck over our bitches, Derby. They’d never put up with that bullshit the way Gypsy does.”
Derby swung his gaze to Gypsy. “You’re still here, babe? I thought you would’ve left when you saw ‘Nita.”
Without another word, Gypsy rushed away.
“I didn’t call to fuck with you,” Derby said, unconcerned at her departure.
“It’s about the Scorched Devils. They’re in a bad way, Outlaw.
The Scorpions have made their move. The Devils are all but decimated from so many deaths.
Those who’ve survived this far are resigning.
Only Dez and four other members are left.
They have a huge fucking target on their backs. ”
“Patch them over,” Christopher ordered.
Derby lifted his brows. “To my club?”
Christopher nodded. Those yellow-bellied cowards who’d voted against him wouldn’t lift a fucking finger if they absorbed Dez and they still got fucked up.
However, if they became Hounds and Bash and his motherfuckers fucked them up, Christopher could argue that they couldn’t desert a longstanding support club like the Burning Hounds.
It wasn’t foolproof, but there was an opening to get what he wanted.
“Bash and the Scorpions will target us,” Derby said.
“Then keep your cock outta random bitches and protect your motherfuckin’ club, Derby,” Christopher told him.
“The Hounds can always go on lockdown,” Mortician said.
“Absolutely not!” Derby declared. “We wouldn’t know how long that’ll last. If we missed one or two months of distributing for the Dwellers, it won’t matter. Any more than that, and our bottom line is affected.”
“The way I see it, if your bottom line affected, so’s the Dwellers’,” Mort said.
“None of our other support clubs as vital and our members wouldn’t want their money fucked with either.
If the Hounds out of commission, the Dwellers might not have a fuckin’ choice but to go to war against the Scorpions.
” He looked at Christopher with meaning. “Right, Prez?”
Mortician’s way would be slower, but probably more palatable to the brothers. “Yeah, Mort, you right.”
“Outlaw! Mortician! Look around my fucking club,” Derby said, swinging his arms to indicate the room. “This isn’t set up for lockdown. It’s set up to fuck and earn money.”
“What the fuck you talking about?” Val asked. “You went on lockdown for a week a couple of years ago when the Gnomes were on a rampage.”
“Gypsy and I were still happy then. I can’t fucking imagine being cooped up with her. Every fucking thing is a goddamn problem. I love her to death but her cunt is old and dry. I can’t deal with that. I need wet young pussy.”
Mortician glared at Derby, then nodded to the door. “I’ll be outside, Prez. I need to call Lou and Kaleb.”
Val excused himself to call Bitsy and Stretch didn’t say shit. He just walked out.
“Was it something I said?” Derby asked with a grin, not giving a fuck that he’d disrespected Gypsy to high fucking heaven.
“One of these days, motherfucker, you’re gonna be wishin’ you still had Gypsy.”
“She always comes back. I lick her pussy, let her suck my cock, and fuck her ass, and she’s happy. I always thought she liked her ass fucked more than her pussy anyway. Who the fuck knows?”
No matter what Christopher said, Derby wouldn’t get a fucking clue. “Get Dez, his four members, and their families here. If their old ladies don’t like the clubhouse, let me know, and I’ll get you money to find a safe place until we get this shit sorted out.”
Christopher studied Digger, still wondering about Gypsy’s look. Bunny had been upset with the motherfucker for awhile and she’d told Gypsy. But if Mort was involved and it really had to do with Megan, that left very limited crimes.
Forcing his cock in her or trying to was out. Mortician would’ve castrated him, Bunny would’ve left and Megan wouldn’t have been able to hide the same shit again.
Same with hitting her. Motherfucker wasn’t limping, so that was out, too. If he had laid hands on Megan, Mortician would’ve stomped him, Bunny would’ve left, and Christopher would’ve seen bruises.
The only other crime Christopher could think of was theft. Digger had stolen something for dumb shit, probably got money for it, and then gambled it the fuck away trying to make more money.
But that would’ve been a lot of fucking trouble.
Christopher narrowed his eyes. Unless he got his fucking hands on one of Megan’s bank accounts? No. Even Digger wouldn’t be that fucking stupid.
“You okay, Outlaw?” Derby asked faintly.
Digger gulped.
“Ain’t you told me your woman wanted a bigger house?” Christopher asked and pointed at Digger.
“I-I-I-I n-n-n-n-never s-s-s-said that, Outlaw,” Digger pushed out. “Bunny f-f-f-ine—”
“What the fuck are you talking about, asshole?” Derby blared.
“Your bitch is fine, but Gypsy made a point of telling me how Bunny thought it was sweet that you mentioned a bigger house for her in case she got pregnant again. Bunny thought you were joking since she knows you wouldn’t have the money. ”
Sweat popped out on Digger forehead and his face crumpled. But Christopher needed proof. So far, it was only speculation. Megan probably wasn’t missing the money yet—she had so many goddamn accounts. Meanwhile, Mort was probably preparing to pay whatever the fuck was stolen.
Maybe, he’d even bargain for Digger’s life by reminding Christopher he’d saved CJ’s.
There was so much other shit going on, Christopher would let it play out. That didn’t mean he wasn’t madder than a motherfucker.
He grabbed Digger by the throat. “Listen up, fuckhead, if you stole goddamn money from my wife, put it the fuck back or for every goddamn dollar you stole, I’ll cut a piece out of you.
” He punched him in his fucking mouth just for being a stupid motherfucker.
“Now, let’s get the fuck outta here before I shoot the fuck outta you,” he snarled, and stormed away.