Chapter Thirty-Four –Christopher
For most of the night, Christopher hadn’t been able to sleep. Certainly fury kept him awake. He still wanted to gut Ryan. Cut his fucking fingers and toes off. Lob off his nose. Dig out his eyeballs. Maybe a few other things so he’d really suffer before Christopher chopped him in half.
Howfuckinever…Bitsy. To make shit worse, everyfuckinbody had to treat that little motherfucker normally when his ma was around, so she’d never discover the truth.
It made Christopher want to chew fucking nails and wish Diesel had filmed Ryan at the funeral home.
Diesel was the other motherfucker that stayed on Christopher’s mind. True, he’d said Megan gave him the idea to fuck with Ryan and she hadn’t even batted an eyelash when he told them what he’d done.
Rebel and Axel had shown a little too much glee, but what the fuck ever.
Christopher wasn’t stupid efuckinuff to believe Diesel had gone off the deep fucking end because Ryan had abused Harley, Mattie, and Rebel. No, that motherfucker lost his goddamn mind because of Rebel.
Rebel and Diesel made Christopher think of him and Megan. Her when she’d first arrived, not legal to fucking drink, just an innocent with a beautiful soul and a kind heart.
He’d never met a girl like her before or since.
The type of bloodlust so prevalent in Rebel hadn’t manifested in her ma until recently, and he’d been the motherfucker to bring it out.
Another reason Diesel was so fucking bad for Rebel. He’d have her as murderous as he was. The fucking Dangerous Duo. Rebel just didn’t give a fuck. She wanted to kill. Kind of like Axel.
Megan turned on her side, and Christopher held his breath, waiting for her to awaken and gaze at him with her beautiful blue eyes. But it had been a long and emotional night. She was exhausted.
One of his favorite things to do was watch Megan sleep. Tucking hair behind her ear, he leaned over and brushed his lips over hers.
A part of him would always mourn the Megan who looked at people and chose to see good; who looked at the world and chose to see beauty. She’d loved him without fear or hesitation, the kind of love motherfuckers only dreamed about.
That Megan protected everyone and guarded his soul most of all. He’d molded her because she’d allowed herself to be so malleable.
Today, motherfuckers would say he groomed her, although Christopher didn’t see it that way. Fuck, she’d done the same to him, training him to keep his cock in his pants and his killer instincts under wraps.
Now…
He hated to even think about it. Since she’d been home, he’d mentioned another pregnancy to her twice and she’d shot him down both times, claiming she wanted to focus on Jo for now.
One time, all he needed to do was manipulate her through word or deed, and she’d capitulate. He’d taught her how to love pregnancy and babies because he loved seeing her filled with his kid.
Suppose Megan…
Fuck, she’d told him she was thinking about taking Rebel away for a mother-daughter trip every few months. Megan had never even considered that shit before. What the fuck was she thinking? Why was she suddenly so willing to have time away from him?
That shit wouldn’t fucking fly if he wanted to stay sane.
Christopher drew in a deep breath and got to his feet, walking to the bathroom and flipping on the light. He blinked at the brightness and allowed his eyes to adjust before he went to her side of the custom-made vanity.
Drawing in a deep breath, he opened the top drawer and took out her birth control pills. Before she left, he’d thought about her being pregnant to keep her safe from whatever threat Bash had posed. Now, he just wanted to fucking keep her.
Christopher wasn’t sure what it was about fucking birth control pills that made her forget to take them. Their hectic life, probably. With the way things had been lately, she wouldn’t have remembered them. Except now she had reminders and double reminders, determined not to get pregnant.
He counted the pills left in her blister pack. Ten. She had three left before she got to the ones that were a different color when her period started. She already had a new pack waiting for her.
Fuck, she’d probably know he threw the motherfuckers away if he fucked with her nearly used pack. But the other ones? They wouldn’t be there and he’d keep her so fucking busy preparing for their trip to the cabin, she wouldn’t even think about them.
Goddamn, the trip. Megan couldn’t keep anything on her stomach when she was pregnant, especially in the first few months. She wouldn’t enjoy the fucking trip.
Scrubbing a hand over his face, Christopher snatched the box and the nearly used blister pack and brought them to his closet, throwing them in his sock drawer.
When he returned to their bedroom, he walked to her nightstand and picked up her phone.
Once he unlocked it, he went to her birth control reminders and canceled them.
Easily explainable as a technical issue with the phone. Satisfied, he set the phone down.
Back in bed, he lifted on his elbow and stared at her, listening to her even breathing, wondering how low of a motherfucker could he be. Throwing away her birth control pills went beyond a low motherfucker move and entered the territory of coercion and sabotage.
As long as she didn’t find out, she wouldn’t fuck him up. Unfortunately, she almost always managed to figure out what the fuck he was up to, either because one of her spies ratted him out or because she fucking put it together herself.
To risk it or not to risk it? That was the fucking question.
Suppose he went through with his fucking plan and she aborted the baby?
He just didn’t know what the fuck she’d do anymore.
He certainly hadn’t expected her to be happy that Diesel targeted her sixteen-year-old nephew.
At one time, that would’ve been a hard no.
It wouldn’t have mattered what that fuckhead did.
What would happen if Christopher looked in the direction of one of the club girls for too long? Most of the time, he saw those bitches in an abstract kind of way. They were pretty, sexy, and the brothers loved them. The fucking end.
Megan would’ve accepted that. Now, she’d want those bitches stuffed in a barrel of pickle juice and drowned, and his fucking eyes plucked out.
She stirred again, opening her eyes this time and blinking. “Hey,” she said when some of her grogginess cleared.
He leaned over and kissed her. “Hey, baby.”
“What time is it?”
Christopher glanced at that fucking fucked up clock. “5:30.”
“How long have you been awake?”
Relaxing against the pillow, he pulled her into the crook of his arm. “Most of the fucking night.”
She kissed his chest. “What’s on your mind?”
He pulled a random thought out of his fucking ass. “You’ll just be turnin’ fifty when CJ thirty-two.”
Silence, and then, “Umkay. What brought this on?”
Lying motherfuckery. “Just watchin’ you sleep and thinkin’ about how young you were when you had CJ.”
Fuck, he needed to keep his fucking mouth shut before he slipped up.
She kissed him again. “I wouldn’t change a thing, Christopher. I have no regrets.”
“Okay, baby,” he said, sighing.
“Do you have anything to do at the club today?”
“I need to call Bash and look over some reports. I’ll be free this afternoon so we can visit Jo.”
“I’m bringing Rebel to have her cast removed. We were going to see Jo afterwards, but I was wondering if you could make an appointment with the guy who built the back staircase.”
“Why?”
“First of all, Diesel’s bathroom.”
How the fuck could he forget? It was cleaned up, but everything except the toilet was unfuckingusable.
“Then, Rebel. She didn’t sleep in her suite, Christopher. I don’t think she’ll ever feel safe enough to spend the night in that room again. Her privacy was violated in the worst possible way. She’ll wonder if someone got in there and planted a camera.”
Christopher couldn’t address that without blowing Ryan the fuck away, so he just said, “Ain’t we just spent a fuckin’ mint, redesignin’ two fucking rooms and decoratin’ them for her?”
“We did. But I want her back on the third floor.”
That would be away from Diesel. Christopher could live with that.
“That requires redesigning the layout to accommodate CJ and Rebel’s room and Gunner and Jo’s nursery.”
“Refuckindesign?” Christopher squinted. “Ain’t you already complainin’ about how big this fuckin’ house is?”
“I’m not proposing we make it any bigger. I was thinking we move into one of the bedrooms downstairs, have Jo and Gunner’s baby bed with us, let CJ and Rebel choose a room on the first floor, too, and we have the third floor gutted.”
“No. You ain’t fuckin’ with my photos of you in the fuckin’ hallway.”
“Of course not. We can make our space smaller to free up space for CJ, Rebel, Gunner, and Jo.”
“Why not fuck up Rebel’s suite and put Gunner and Jo in there?”
“One’s a baby and the other’s a toddler. You’ve never wanted the kids in here with us. I at least want them on the same floor when they are so little.”
“Didn’t you just fuckin’ tell me you wanted those two in our fuckin’ room?”
“I did,” she said, sighing. “But only temporarily. Until construction is finished up here.”
He glared at the ceiling. She’d never fucking wanted their private sanctuary to be smaller before. What the fuck was wrong with her?
“How about we build up?” he said, testing the waters.
“A fourth floor?” she squeaked.
“Our room and a nursery.” Big enough for three babies, but he wouldn’t get into that right now. “Rebel complained about not havin’ an elevator. I’ll even have one installed.”
“Are you sure? That sounds much more expensive than what I’m proposing.”
“Ain’t it almost time to redecorate? We’ll do a complete fuckin’ renovation. Redesign whatever room you want.” And keep her fucking distracted. “The kitchen. All the bathrooms. The fuckin’ natatorium.”
Megan squealed, lifted up and kissed his lips. “I love you so much, Christopher. Thank you. This was so much more than I expected.”
Christopher smiled. “Ain’t nothin’ but a thing, baby,” he murmured. “How about you show me just how happy you are?”