Chapter Twenty-Four – Christopher
After a long, leisurely bath with Megan and more fucking, Christopher enjoyed a delicious meal of pot roast, roasted carrots and potatoes, fucking salad, and dessert.
Mattie and Harley left before dinner, and Bunny didn’t stick around, so it was just him, Megan, their kids, Bishop, and Kaia. Megan tried to coax Jana to join them, but she declined, instead taking her food in Diesel’s room, even though he joined the family.
They’d just gotten to the den to spend time together, when Mortician called and ruined his fucking night with news he never expected to hear.
Mortician heaved in a breath. “Gypsy dead, Prez.”
Christopher plopped his ass in the seat and all noise stopped. He tried to fucking speak, but just an unintelligible sound came out.
“Is it Rule, Christopher?” Megan cried.
“She wouldn’t fucking listen, Outlaw,” Mortician continued. “I told her to call you when Wally, Jr. first walked in.”
“Wally, Jr. killed Gypsy,” Christopher repeated, trying to comprehend the situation. Repeating those words in his head. Out loud. Unable to make it make fucking sense. “Gypsy dead.”
Megan gasped “What?”
“Gypsy’s what?” Diesel asked.
“Is Uncle Mort serious?” CJ called.
Megan snatched the phone out of Christopher’s hand. Rebel frowned but otherwise didn’t react. Bishop’s mouth hung open. Kaia’s confusion made sense because he wasn’t well-acquainted with Gypsy. The Triplets sat in silence as their ma placed the phone on speaker.
“Is…is Gypsy really dead, Mort?” Megan asked, her voice already thick with tears.
“And Wally, Jr. killed her?” Christopher repeated, still not connecting the dots.
She’d been a pain in fucking ass, whiny and mopey as a motherfucker, but she was Megan and Bunny’s friend, who they knew for years.
More than that, she was a fellow president’s old lady, killed at a Dweller hangout by one of their enemies. “Wally, Jr. Where he at?”
“I shot the fuck out of him,” Mortician’s voice filled the room. Christopher registered the man’s shock. “I tried, Prez. Why the fuck wouldn’t she listen? FUCK! That miserable motherfucker shot her in the back of her fucking head.”
Christopher had so many fucking questions.
Why the fuck was Gypsy at Tee’s? Why was Wally on that side of town?
Tee’s was along a main thoroughfare, but it wasn’t so close to Turn Creek that the little motherfucker couldn’t have found somewhere else to eat.
Why ride there? And how the fuck did he know Mortician would be there?
“Gypsy called me earlier and asked if I would meet her,” Mort volunteered without Christopher saying a fucking thing. “She told me ‘Junior’ was staying with her and I just brushed her off, Outlaw. It didn’t even cross my fucking mind–”
“Do you think Gypsy set you up?” Megan asked, swiping at her wet cheeks.
“No, Meggie girl. That motherfucker used her to get to us, then shot the fuck out of her because she was convenient. Prez could’ve been sitting here with you, Val with Chester, me with Bailey…
” Mort choked out, chilling Christopher’s blood.
“We could’ve been here with our daughters. He wanted revenge for Eliza.”
“I’m on my way, Mort.”
“I’m coming,” Megan announced.
“Bodies in here, Meggie,” Mortician said. “And the place full of blood and gore.”
Her hand flying to her mouth, Megan nodded.
Axel ran to her and hugged her. “It’s okay, Mom.”
Megan held Axel tightly, not responding, her face in his neck.
“Stay here with us, Mom,” CJ said, his hands balling at his sides.
“I’ll see you in a few, Prez,” Mort said and disconnected.
Christopher got to his feet and snatched his phone. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, baby.”
“I-I have to call Bunny,” she said, her tone filled with disbelief.
When he got to the diner with Diesel and Bishop, Stretch and Val were already there, helping to clean the place up and pulling footage. Mort led him to where he’d laid Gypsy’s body on the counter after wrapping her in the blankets Val brought for this purpose.
“Wally, Jr. in the fucking bathroom for now,” Val said.
Christopher nodded and dialed Derby’s number.
“Meggie unleashed your collar a second night in a row?” he said, answering the phone on the second ring, shouting to be heard over the noise in the background. “Come back to the club. Got a new bitch here. She just sucked my cock until my fucking toes curled.”
Unlike other times when Derby fucked with him, Christopher couldn’t even summon anger.
“Derby, you gotta come to—” The party suddenly seemed louder, so the motherfucker probably couldn’t hear him.
“Go somefuckinwhere quiet,” he ordered in a raised voice.
“You gotta come to Tee’s—” he started when he could hear himself talk.
“Negative,” Derby interrupted. “I’m not leaving my new cocksucker’s side tonight.”
“Gypsy—”
Derby grunted. “Let me guess. My bitch is crying to yours that I’m not answering her fucking calls. I should’ve known you were calling for Meggie because Gypsy—”
“Is dead, Derby,” Christopher managed, those fucking words harder than a motherfucker to say. It could’ve been Megan or Rebel or any of his sisters and nieces. More than that, he’d known Gypsy for thirty years and…fuck. “Your woman dead.”
Christopher blinked away the moisture in his eyes.
Gypsy had been fucking stacked when he’d first met her.
She’d gone from a stripper in Derby’s club to him selling her pussy to Burning Hound property, and finally his old lady.
Christopher had never fucked her, although he loved to party with her.
For whatever reason he’d never wanted to fuck her. But–
“Is this your idea of a fucking joke, Outlaw?” Derby finally exploded after an interminable silence in which Gypsy and Christopher’s friendship replayed in his head like a movie set to slow motion. “This isn’t funny, motherfucker.”
Christopher sat heavily in one of the chairs and looked at her covered body. “It ain’t a joke, Derby. Wally, Jr. shot and killed her.”
“I’m on my way.”
The line disconnected.
“Prez, you want to see her?” Mortician walked through the double doors that led to the kitchen and went to a stool in front of the counter near Gypsy’s shrouded body. “We can unwrap her.”
“The footage, Outlaw.” Stretch plunked his cell phone in front of Christopher. “Mortician tried to protect her,” he muttered, hesitating. “I’m just the fucking messenger. Okay?”
“What the fuck you talkin’ about?”
Sighing, Stretch pressed play. The moment Christopher heard what the motherfucker had planned for Rebel, he understood Stretch’s reluctance.
Scrubbing a hand over his face, Christopher watched the rest of footage in silence, then slid the phone away.
“Get Tee the fuck out. Derby going to want to shoot his fucking ass off.” He fucking felt like shooting that motherfucker.
And Wally, Jr.? He wished that motherfucker was still alive so he could fucking torture him.
“We’re gonna address the Tee issue some other time, but this not the fuckin’ time.
” Not long after Tee left, and Narci, Potter, Torrin, and Huck arrived, Derby and members of the Burning Hounds walked in.
Standing, Christopher met Derby’s gaze and nodded toward the counter. “She there.”
For long moments, Derby stared at the blanket-wrapped body, not moving or speaking. Just frozen.
“I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Derby,” Christopher murmured, not wanting to imagine himself in Derby’s place but somehow unable not to.
What could he say to his friend? If that was Megan…
he blinked, swallowed, blinked again. Jesus fucking Christ. If that was Megan, there would be nothing anyone could say to him that would soothe him, bring her back, or make it right. “I’m sorry, brother.”
Derby glanced in all corners of the diner, then stared at the floor and heaved in a breath. “Are you sure it’s her?” he asked, his voice trembling.
Unfuckinfortunately. “A hundred percent.”
Derby walked to where she lay like a man condemned with iron weights clamped around his ankles. Hands trembling, he removed the blanket. He stared at her, touched her cheeks. “She didn’t close her eyes,” he said, bending over her, burying his face against her neck, and sobbing.
More proof how fucked up emotions were. Derby had never treated Gypsy with the respect she’d deserved. He never acted as if he loved her. Yet, grief poured from him in his tears, his actions, and his words.
He stroked her hair. “I’m so fucking sorry, Gypsy. I should’ve made an honest woman of you. I thought I had more time. I thought you’d always be there, waiting for me. I love you so fucking much. I should’ve…” He bent over her and sobbed again. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
No one interrupted him. He needed to get it out. In Gypsy lay Christopher’s greatest fear. That one day, his lifestyle would cost Megan her life. It could’ve been this time. Like Mort said, if that little motherfucker had run across any of their women, they would’ve gotten killed.
Fuck. Mattie. Wally, Jr. would’ve killed Mattie and called it even. But Grant saved her. Christopher would never be able to repay that motherfucker for realizing she wasn’t there and going to search for her.
Christopher wasn’t sure how long Derby cried or talked to her. No one spoke, allowing him the time to come to grips with the initial shock.
Finally, Derby staggered to Christopher, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen. One of his brothers handed him a wad of napkins.
“What happened, Outlaw?” He dabbed at his cheeks. “How’d she get killed? Fuck, what am I going to tell our kids? They love the fuck out of their mama. What happened?”
“Sit,” Christopher ordered.
“I have to get Gypsy—”
“Stretch pulled footage and sent it to his phone,” Christopher said. “Seeing it better than I can fucking explain it.”
He held the phone out to Derby, who stared at it like it was a poisonous snake, before he blew out a heavy breath and snatched it.
“A bitch for a bitch?” Derby echoed the words he’d just heard Wally, Jr. say on the video. “I didn’t fucking kill Eliza Bart!” He stormed to his feet, his hand going to his gun.
Always expecting shit to go fucking south, Christopher drew his .9mm and pointed it at Derby. Since none of the Hounds pulled, Christopher knew his boys drew on those motherfuckers.
“Val killed Eliza, Derby,” Christopher said. “Cuz she was forcin’ Ryan to fuck her.”
“How fucking dare you sound so goddamn blasé!” Derby snarled, ignoring Christopher’s gun and getting right the fuck in his face.
Christopher shoved the .9mm against Derby’s midsection. “I know you fuckin’ hurt but pull back on your fuckin’ disrespect before I shoot the fuck outta you.”
Derby glared at Christopher, but snapped his mouth shut, tears still rolling down his cheeks.
“Gypsy didn’t deserve this, Outlaw. She helped that motherfucker, too.
To make me jealous, yeah, but she still opened her fucking house to him.
She still fucked him and he fucking repaid her with a bullet in her brain?
” He sat in his seat, put his elbows on his knees and hung his head.
“She told me she was meeting a friend tonight and that her houseguest was dropping her off. I didn’t fucking care.
All I thought was she’d be out of my fucking way so I could fuck the new stripper. ”
Christopher nodded to his boys, signaling them to lower their guns.
Standing, Derby looked at Gypsy’s body again, then walked to Mortician and held out his hand. “Thank you, brother,” he said on a sob. “I know you did your best.”