Chapter 8 – Christopher
The warmth of the late afternoon brushed against Christoper’s skin, soothing him and reminding him his daughter had survived another attempt on her life. His mind veered to all the what-ifs. Especially the one where she hadn’t made it out alive.
Mort handed Christopher a smoke. He inhaled and exhaled in silence, wishing it was Aunt Mary, but unable to imagine Kendall’s outrage if she came up and saw him smoking a joint in public. It was just one more reminder of how the walls of civilian life were closing in on him.
Not that it had ever been a good fucking idea to light up outside the privacy of the club or his house. Shit was just easier to skirt around at one time.
“Meggie like the new bedroom?”
Christopher shrugged. “Ain’t got much of a chance to enjoy it before we got hit with this bullshit.”
“Sorry I couldn’t stay and help more. Lou wanted a new pair of shoes. I couldn’t miss an opportunity to see them.”
Bailey kept a tight fucking rein on the boys, so Christopher didn’t fault his friend for seeing them when he could.
“I was interrupted myfuckinself,” Christopher admitted. “Got a call from Lance Hart.”
Flicking his barely-enjoyed cigarette to the ground and stomping it, Mort frowned. “Who?”
“A motherfucker who wanted Bash and his club to move drugs and dealing with guns.”
“Dealing with?” Mort echoed, never a slow motherfucker. “Trading? Smuggling—”
“Both. Hart pretend to be just a tech billionaire, but the bulk of his money came from illicit deals. Gun tradin’. He was able to shake the Feds, but not his need for money.”
“How you got wind of it?”
“Riley. Durin’ background checks on the American Scorpions.”
“Bunny old man thorough, that’s for fucking sure.”
“That’s why he’s still on the fuckin’ payroll.”
“How’d Hart find out about us, Prez?”
Christopher poked and prodded until he made contact with the motherfucker.
Once Kendall ironed out the deal, he should’ve walked away or had her include it in their many written agreements.
But, fuck, it still chafed Christopher’s nuts how he’d been forced into peace with Bash, even if the motherfucker was behaving and seemed to want to do better.
“Hart and me came to an agreement,” Christopher said, skirting Mort’s questions. “He’s callin’ in the next several days for a meetin’.”
Mort squinted, studying Christopher in silence. Long years of friendship allowed the motherfucker to read between the lines and guess what the fuck Christopher wasn’t saying. “You stealing this from the Scorpions?”
“They didn’t have it on fuckin’ lockdown, Mort,” Christopher snapped.
“But they knew about it?”
And thought they were all but guaranteed to get it. Yet, all the fuck Bash would do was waste the money. Maybe even get himself fucked up.
“Prez, you forcing Diesel to stay married to Tabitha…no, you allowed Bash to include that in the peace agreement. A peace agreement that risk a lot of lives, especially Meggie’s, if it’s fucked up. Yet, you doing the same thing and think you justified?”
“I ain’t cuttin’ Bash out. Ima give him his fair fuckin’ share.”
“According to you, you not cutting him out. And it won’t be a fair share if we get the bulk of it, which we will because we the ones who risking our lives and our freedom.”
“Torrin’s up next for a big enterprise, but I’m makin’ Val co-captain on this one. What Johnnie did with Molly and how Val had to involve you wouldna happened if he had his own bills. Efuckinuff of his own bills. This’ll put him up there with us.”
“Fine, if that was fucking true, Outlaw, but we know it’s because Johnnie and his motherfuckers hurt your fucking pride.
Fuck, they hurt mine, too. I understand, Prez.
I do. It just not like you to hold another man to an agreement that you knowingly and willingly break. Especially your own fucking son.”
For months, Christopher had prepared for war. He’d thought of ways to protect and defend Megan against an enemy who could strike at any moment. Then, suddenly, the threat was supposedly gone. Bash wanted to be accepted into the family and a bloodbath was averted.
Yet, the club’s true owner was still a mystery. Bash’s long-term goodwill was still in question. The Death Dwellers’ ability to bounce back from months of strife was still unknown.
“Mort, if you don’t want a part of the deal, I understand. You going through a lot with your woman. I ain’t holdin’ it against you if you want to be excluded.”
“No, Prez. I might not be happy with it and want you to reconsider, but I’d never turn my back on you.” He held out his hand. “We brothers for better or for worse. ‘Til I breathe my last.”
A chill slid up Christopher’s back, but he shoved it aside and shook Mort’s hand. “Always, brother.”
“How’s Rebel?” Kendall asked, rushing up to them from toward the parking lot. She hugged him and then Mortician. “What happened?”
“Kendall, why don’t you take the kids upstairs?” Johnnie suggested, escorting Rory, Mattie, and JJ from the same direction Kendall had come.
“Hi, Uncle Christopher,” Mattie greeted, hugging him just like her ma had.
Christopher hugged her woodenly.
“Hey, Uncle Mort.”
“Hey, baby,” Mort greeted, returning her hug.
Before any of them said anything else, Val, Ryan, and Devon walked up.
“Harley wanted to stay with Puff,” Val revealed once their greetings were over. “I appreciate that so fucking much. Zoann just devastated.”
“How’s Rebel?” Ryan asked, looking and sounding as if he truly cared, which Christopher believed he did.
“I was just about to go upstairs with Mattie,” Kendall answered.
She sounded normal, but Christopher detected something off about her.
He couldn’t put it together right now. His thoughts were so fucking jumbled.
He couldn’t place the look in her eyes. It could’ve been worry for Rebel, but it was…
haunted. Vulnerable. She couldn’t know that Charlotte was dead.
She’d loved that cunt. She would’ve been inconsolable.
“We can all go up together,” Kendall added just as Christopher’s phone started ringing.
He looked at the device and frowned. Nivins flashed across the screen. Wasn’t that the manager at Diesel’s condo?
“Yeah?” he answered as Kendall guided Mattie, JJ, Rory, Ryan, and Devin into the building.
“Outlaw, we have a situation,” Nivins greeted
“I’m busy,” he barked. He wouldn’t leave the hospital for Tabitha’s bullshit. “Call my son. Whatever his wife did—”
“I can’t reach Diesel. I regret to inform you that your daughter-in-law has been found dead.”
The news was so fucking shocking that Christopher gasped.
“What’s going on?” Johnnie asked, not close enough to have overheard Nivins.
“Thanks for the call,” Christopher said, getting control of himself so he wouldn’t clue Johnnie in. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He disconnected, his mind spinning.
Tabitha was fucking dead?
But…?
“Christopher?”
Remembering Johnnie’s question, Christopher lifted his gaze, suspicious of that motherfucker’s concern. Johnnie weaponized everything.
His thoughts racing, Christopher looked at Mortician and thrust his chin toward the hospital entrance. “Mort, check on Kendall and—”
Worked like a fucking charm.
Johnnie stiffened. “Excuse you, Christopher. I’ll check on my own fucking wife.”
Christopher shrugged. “I thought maybe you’d want Mort to do it so you can ride with me to the club for a bitch situation.”
“No, fucking thank you,” Johnnie barked, storming away.
The moment he disappeared inside the building, Val shook his head. “Even I know that’s a smokescreen, Outlaw.”
“Yeah, Prez,” Mort agreed. “You a little chalky. Like you received another shock.”
“I’m done with fuckin’ surprises,” Christopher grumbled. “Tabitha fuckin’ dead. Lemme hit up Megan, then we ride to Diesel’s condo.”