Chapter Three – Christopher #2
“Not,” Ransom said. “Axel gets words and sayings mixed up, not situations. He’s really smart with that.” He stood up and made a show of looking around. “I hope he comes back soon. We need to discuss a situation that happened at school yesterday.”
“And what was that?” Christopher asked.
“We’ll tell you if you need to know, Dad,” Ryder assured him. “Just trust us.”
“We still don’t have more food or the dessert,” Digger said crossly. “Fia, can you pick the apples out? I’m not in the mood for sweet apples.”
“Motherfucker, you just asked for apple pie,” Val said with a shake of his head.
“Yeah, son. And what the fuck don’t you understand about layered?” Mortician snapped. “It’s fruit, whipped or ice cream, and syrup topped with granola.”
“You would know that, Mort,” Digger grumbled. “Bailey like all that sadity shit.”
“My wife prepares parfait too,” Knox said coldly. “Is she sadity?”
“Roxanne much more down to earth than your bitch ass or her daughter could ever be,” Digger retorted.
“Listen up, motherfucker. If you don’t shut the fuck up about my wife and mama-in-law, I’m ripping your goddamn tongue out.” Mort nodded to the bar. “Better yet, get the fuck away from me.”
Not moving, Digger made a face at Mortician, who started to stand.
Christopher shook his head and the motherfucker sat back down. “Bring the dessert, Fia,” he instructed. “And more alcohol.”
“I have a joint.” Tennysee smiled at Narci the minute Fia scampered away. “Do you want to smoke it with me?”
“No,” Narci said harshly. “You made the dessert, Ten. Now, you need to help serve it.”
“Bishop showed me how,” Tennysee said.
“Good for Bishop. Hopefully, you gave him good head for the lesson.”
Torrin, Diesel’s best friend, dragged Tauriel over from the pool area, where they’d just finished a game. Like Fia, Tauriel only wore key-hole panties and nothing else, not even shoes.
Christopher wasn’t sure if the girls wanted to become Bobs or if they just liked the attire.
Torrin settled his hands on Tennysee’s waist, bent and kissed her. “Let’s leave this grump be, babe,” he said, nodding to Narci. “Come and party with us.”
Irritation crossed Narci’s face. “She doesn’t need to party with you or anyone else, Torrin,” he snapped. “She needs to go in the fucking kitchen.” He pointed at the door next to the bar. “Go.”
“Okay,” she mumbled, turned, and ran off.
Snickering, Torrin grabbed Tauriel’s hand, flipped Narci off, and disappeared down the hallway.
Christopher rolled his eyes and checked his watch. 7:18. It wouldn’t be long before one of the women walked in. They’d gotten their nails done, had a glass of wine, blazed the fuck out of their husbands, and eaten.
Fia and Tennysee served the parfait with smiles and conversation. As usual, Fia was more outgoing and talkative, secure in herself and unconcerned at her nearly naked state.
He couldn’t help but wonder what led her to follow Nyx’s lead. Though Fia was twenty like Nyx had been, she wasn’t as hardened as that bitch.
“Goddamn, this shit delicious!” Digger scraped the last of the dessert from the glass and held it up. “You got more?”
“You can have mine, Uncle Digger,” CJ called, standing from his chair and carrying the parfait over. He set it in front of Digger, then nodded behind him. “My plate’s there, too.”
Christopher searched his son’s face. “You not hungry, boy?” he asked, knowing he was. CJ had wanted to go home to eat.
“No, Dad,” CJ said, just as his stomach growled.
“Either you starving or you gassy.” Digger licked the whipped cream from the spoon, set it aside, and sniffed the air. “Don’t smell a fart.”
Flushing, CJ shoved his hands in his pants and glanced away.
“We have beer,” Fia announced, returning to the table with a tray of bottles.
Glancing from his son to glare at Fia, Christopher clenched his jaw. She stumbled back. Luckily, Narci grabbed the tray and saved the beer, although he looked a little sick, too.
“I’m sorry!” Fia cried. “I’m sorry!”
“What did you do, sweetheart?” Johnnie drawled.
“I don’t know!” She burst into tears. “Don’t kill me please!”
Before he did shoot her, Christopher smiled at his boy. “We all ate, son. Ain’t none of us…” He could barely get the word out. Resting his elbows on the table, he met CJ’s eyes. “We ain’t die, boy.”
CJ swallowed and lowered his lashes.
“CJ!” Fia wailed. “I—”
“You’re fine, bae,” CJ said softly. “I just…if Mom had cooked…” He looked away. “I’m still Outlaw’s son. You might overdose me because I didn’t smile at you right.”
“No! No! No!” Fia cried.
If she was giving Christopher a headache, he could only imagine how CJ felt, so he got to his feet.
“Listen up, cunt, if you don’t shut the fuck up, I will shoot the fuck outta you.”
Sobbing pitifully, she turned and fell into Tennysee’s arms.
“It doesn’t mean I can’t be a part of the club, Dad.”
“No, it just mean your momma baby you too fucking much,” Digger scoffed.
CJ glared at the motherfucker. “It just means I’ll have to eat somewhere else.”
Christopher wouldn’t get into that right now. He’d stomp Digger then take his boy somewhere to eat and talk. “Digger?”
“Yo, Prez?” Pounding on his chest, he belched, then nodded to Tauriel. “I need a beer.”
“Ima get it, babe,” Christopher said, stopping her in her tracks. He crooked his finger at Digger. “C’mere.”
“Meggie going to be home soon,” he squeaked.
Oh no the fuck that motherfucker didn’t mention Megan when he’d fucked over her so badly.
A roar of rage escaped Christopher and he kicked his fucking chair into the wall, not surprised when Digger jumped onto the table and leaped, missing tables and chairs by fucking feet but scattering motherfuckers in all directions.
He hopped to his feet and started to run, but Christopher drew his .9mm, aimed and fired, hitting Digger’s shoulder. He wanted that motherfucker to suffer.
A woman’s scream barely broke through Christopher’s rage. Probably Fia. The sobs were the other two, since they were so close.
The bullet halted Digger momentarily.
“One more motherfuckin’ step and Ima shoot your fuckin’ head the fuck off,” Christopher warned.
“Mort, talk to Prez,” Digger begged.
Christopher glanced in Mortician’s direction, hating his friend’s devastation but sick to fucking death of Digger, Johnnie, and motherfucking Cash.
“Ain’t a motherfuckin’ thing you can say, Mort,” Christopher told him. “Ain’t no fuckin’ explainin’ in the world when that motherfucker did what the fuck he did.”
“What the fuck I did, Outlaw?” Digger cried.
Infuriated, Christopher shot his other shoulder. “You lucky I ain’t got my fuckin’ hollows. Keep fuckin’ talkin’ and that’s gonna change.”
“Little bruh!” Digger called, tears sliding down his cheeks as he turned to CJ. “We saved your life. Talk to your old man. A life for a life.”
“Prez, please,” Mort whispered, breaking through Christopher’s rage that Digger was playing that card.
“If you saved my life to fuck over my mom, then you shouldn’t have bothered,” CJ said, shocking the fuck out of everyone.
“I know what you did to her, Uncle Digger. My mom didn’t deserve that.
You want to use my life as your get out of jail free card, find your fucking debit card and pay my mom back. ”
“It wasn’t like that!” Digger cried, taking his gaze from CJ and looking at Christopher again. “I just…Outlaw…Bunny want another baby and we need a bigger house!”
“Meggie give dividends from the money she got from the sale of the house that once belonged to Big Joe and we get our share from the club earnings,” Val said.
Christopher appreciated he’d left off the trading Megan did, since that was mainly for family members.
“Not only that, you and Mort get money from Sharper estate,” Val went on. “You took the woman money because you a greedy motherfucker.”
Digger clutched his right shoulder and gritted his teeth. “I took her money because Bunny just give me a little bit of what I get.”
“I wonder fuckin’ why,” Christopher said sarcastically, walking up to Digger and gut-punching him, smiling at the pop of bone as that assfuck dropped to his knees.
Christopher kicked him and he vomited where he landed. Enjoying the show of Digger coughing and gagging, he watched for a moment then stalked to him. He leaned over and dragged Digger to his feet by his hair, then put him in a chokehold and jammed the gun to his temple.
“Outlaw, please,” Digger managed in a strangled voice. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. Meggie don’t want me dead.”
“Know how I know my Sweet Angel almost back? Cuz of your motherfuckin’ ass,” he said before Digger answered.
“She ain’t let Mort repay her and she told me we, me and her, buildin’ the infrastructure.
” He jiggled the gun against Digger’s head.
“And you know why the fuck she told me all that? Cuz I fuckin’ guessed what the fuck you did.
She was tryna protect your motherfuckin’ ass, motherfucker.
Even after you fucked over her. She said it was for Mort and Bunny, but it was for you too.
My woman loyal.” He met Cash and Johnnie’s horrified gazes, then focused on Digger again.
“More fuckin’ loyal than you. You her family, so she’ll give you ten fuckin’ thousand chances.
Me? Your fuckin’ saves all used up. Ima fuckin’ stomp you.
” He shoved his gun in his cut and slammed Digger to the ground.
“Your fuckin’ fingers. Those motherfuckers accessed her bank account. ”
He slammed his boot against Digger’s hand, ignoring the motherfucker’s scream.
“Your fuckin’ arm. Ain’t got it, ain’t got no fuckin’ hand to steal.”
He kicked Digger’s forearm, making sure the steel toe connected.
“By the fuckin’ way, you know that was my fuckin’ account, huh?”
He dragged him to his knees and punched him back to the ground, then yanked him up again and shook him before letting him drop in an unconscious, bleeding heap.
Christopher ignored the shock and fear on many of the younger members’ faces. They’d never witnessed one of his beatings. They’d heard stories. Rumors. Fucking gossip, but judging by the attitude of the past weeks, they hadn’t fucking believed it.
“Mortician?”
The enforcer looked sick, resigned. “Prez?”
“I want five million dollars tofuckinmorrow.” Megan wouldn’t accept it.
Christopher would keep it safe for her. “I ain’t givin’ a good fuck if you keel the fuck over writin’ that motherfuckin’ check.
Digger lost his motherfuckin’ mind, playin’ with my fuckin’ wife.
Playin’ with me. And if you ain’t wantin’ me to cut this motherfucker head off, get him the fuck in line. I’m fuckin’ tired of repeatin’ that.”
It was a fucking personal matter that played out in front of the club. He couldn’t have motherfuckers thinking they could get away with the same bullshit.
“You fuckin’ lucky he stole from me and Megan personal account,” Christopher went on, still so fucking livid he could taste Digger’s blood and see his brain on the fucking floor.
“If this was a club matter and I let him fuckin live, he’d be out bad.
And if it was a fuckin’ club matter, you’d enforce our rules.
And, if it was a club matter with someone other than Digger, Megan wouldn’t hold sway.
Motherfuckers don’t think she worth protectin’, so I wouldn’t give a fuck if she asked me not to kill you. ”
“Not us, Outlaw,” Narci cried. “We voted with you.”
When Johnnie arrived, so too did some of his fucking minions.
Christopher didn’t respond to Narci, but it warmed his heart to watch how greatly they’d fucked up dawn on Johnnie’s motherfuckers.
“Can I see to Digger, Prez?” Mortician asked.
Before Christopher answered, his phone began ringing. “Probably Megan.” He glanced at Digger. “I wonder if she’d care?” he asked no one in particular as he dug his phone out of his pocket.
Sloane Mason’s name flashed on his screen, and Christopher frowned. He walked to Stretch, since he wasn’t talking to Cash, who was Sloane’s brother-in-law, and handed the phone over.
“Talk to him, Stretch. Tell him Ima call him back.”
“Put it on speaker,” Cash ordered.
Stretch looked at Christopher, who nodded.
“Mortician,” Christopher started as Stretch answered with, “Outlaw will call you back, Sloane.”
“I was hoping he knew where our wives went,” Sloane said.
Christopher froze and stared at the phone in Stretch’s hand. “What the fuck you mean? Our wives at the fuckin’ spa. I ain’t got a fuckin’ clue where your woman at, Sloane.”
“Georgie is fucking gone, Outlaw. I found a note on the pillow, saying her and Brynn needed to get to Meggie and Rebel as soon as possible since they left you.”
“Megan left…the fuck you say!” Christopher snarled, digging in his pocket for his cell phone, then remembering he was talking to Sloane on that motherfucker. “My wife ain’t leavin’ me—”
“Is she there?” Sloane yelled. “Whatever is going on with you two, Georgie is taking her side! My wife and daughter are wherever—”
“Give me a second,” Stretch said, his voice a little shaky, setting the phone on the table.
“I’ll call the spa, Uncle Christopher,” Diesel said, standing and walking to the bar.
“I’m texting Mom,” CJ volunteered.
“Me, too,” Ransom said.
“I’ll text Ax,” Ryder said.
No one spoke in the minutes it took for Diesel to make the call and Stretch to check the trackers. Though Sloane hadn’t disconnected, he was silent. Christopher, meanwhile, could barely breathe and it felt as if his heart would pound out of his chest.
That was why he couldn’t hang up on Sloane and call Megan himself. He was afraid she had left.
“Are you sure?” Diesel’s voice travelled to Christopher through a tunnel. His boy paled, his eyes wide. “Yes, thank you.” Hanging up, he walked woodenly back to the table. “She’s not there,” he croaked. “She didn’t go there.”
CJ lost his color too, while Ransom and Ryder jumped up.
“Where’s Mom, Dad?” Ransom cried.
“Is Axel with her?” Ryder said in a frantic tone. “You think he left us because we were mean to him like you were mean to her and Reb?”
“The vehicles are all still at Kendall’s office,” Stretch announced, holding up his phone.
“Look at the fuckin’ cameras,” Christopher ordered. He was shaking. “Now!”
“I-I can’t anymore,” Stretch whispered. “The feed is disabled.”
“Mattie,” CJ, Ryan, and Rory chorused on a groan.
“Find my fuckin’ wife,” Christopher roared, heading to his bike, intending to tear the world apart until he found his Megan.