Chapter Eight
Christopher’s full schedule started early this morning with a visit to D.
Elliot. Afterwards, Meggie knew Christopher was meeting Derby, the president of the Burning Hounds, a Dweller support club, and Dez, president of the Scorched Devils, a club in need of protection.
In high spirits for the first time in weeks, Meggie headed to the club after visiting Jo and stopping at the grocery store.
She wanted to surprise the guys with a meal.
Once the guys unloaded her car, Meggie didn’t bother going home to drop off her purse, change out of her stilettos or to grab her Property of Outlaw cut.
Inside the clubhouse, she nodded to Dementor, Bedhead, Exorcist, Potter, Narci, and Torrin, went to Christopher’s office, put her purse in his desk drawer, and set her stilettos on the sofa.
She’d forgotten to buy a new pair of flip flops for times like these, so she had no choice but to walk around in her bare feet.
She’d had a wonderful weekend with her family—her husband—and she was feeling a little more herself.
Once the bikers saw the old Meggie, they’d back off with their taunts, sexual demands, and come-ons.
They were lucky Christopher’s focus remained on her.
Otherwise, he’d catch a whiff of their shenanigans and all hell would break lose.
He’d kill most of the younger members, and some of the older ones, for their disrespect toward her. It wouldn’t matter that he’d inadvertently created the situation.
Neither here or there. Life was good again. Things would be fine.
Tomorrow, she’d host their first family get-together since November. It wouldn’t be elaborate, but everything was finally falling back into place.
They still needed to find Molly and get to the bottom of those documents. Both situations were heavy burdens. Yet they would be fine. Meggie finally felt the strength to move forward nine weeks after her life fell apart.
At the gate, where Bishop was nearing the end of his gate duty shift, Meggie told him she needed help with all the groceries.
She didn’t have a lot of time; it was already almost two.
Soon, the kids would be arriving from school and the bikers would begin trickling in.
It was cloudy outside, so she didn’t expect a big crowd, which was fine with her since she’d purchased enough food for no more than fifty people, including her own family.
As she returned to the main room, she plaited her hair into a single braid. The hasty style wasn’t the neatest but that couldn’t be helped.
“What are you doing here, gorgeous?” Bedhead called lazily, still seated on a stool at the bar. Like Narci, he was a notorious flirt and partier. He also sounded a little too familiar for her comfort.
Instead of making a big deal about it, she ignored his tone. “I’m here to cook. I wanted to show how much I appreciate everything you all did for Christopher, my kids, and me, while I recovered.”
Dementor smirked at her. “I can think of a few other ways you can show your appreciation, Meggie.”
Hands on hips, she narrowed her eyes. “How? By telling Christopher you’re coming on to me and watching him cut you into tiny little pieces?”
A thump from behind careened her into a table. If it hadn’t been there to stop her forward motion, she would’ve sprawled onto the floor.
“Sorry, Meggie,” Nyx cooed.
Straightening, Meggie turned and met her vicious gaze.
“I didn’t see you.”
Meggie drew in a breath. She’d ignore every last idiot there. Their stupidity wasn’t worth the aggravation. Whatever was going on, she was almost certain, it still had to do with Torie. Even from her graves, that witch tormented her.
The opening door brought in Digger and Bishop. He might be a friendly face, but Digger certainly wasn’t. He was still angry with her for things she had absolutely no control over.
“Where Bunny?” Digger asked, stalking past her and heading to his seat at Christopher’s table. “Where I see you, I usually see her.”
“Gunner had a check-up,” Meggie said calmly. “Since she doesn’t like to cook for big crowds, she took him. I’m here to start dinner. Braised short ribs, mashed potatoes and gravy, carrots mixed with ham and onions and acorn squash stuffed with turkey sausage. For dessert, I have ice cream.”
He made a face at her. “Get me a beer.”
Meggie overlooked Digger’s harsh tone. “Come in the kitchen with me and keep me company. We can talk.”
“You got a special drink for me?”
“I don’t have one for Mortician, either,” she responded. “I didn’t—”
Anger washed across Digger’s face. “Fuck you!”
Meggie drew herself up, heaved in a breath and tried again. “Something’s going on with you and I want to help.”
“Ohhhhhhh,” Exorcist called. “Looks like Meggie wants some special time with Digger.”
The growing crowd of bikers joined in with whooping and whistles. Instead of defending her, Digger smirked.
If Meggie broke down now, she’d never get any peace. Disregarding the pain of his treatment to get to the root of the problem, she forced a smile. “Why don’t we take this opportunity to clear the air between us?”
Nyx accepted the beer Potter handed her, then turned to Meggie. “You pitch pussy too, cunt,” she sneered, “so fuck you, pretending you’re so goody-goody.”
“That’s my cue,” Meggie snapped, intending to head to the kitchen and leave them to their misery.
She wouldn’t tell Christopher yet . She’d asked Mortician for help first. Potter didn’t look pleased, though Meggie suspected he knew what was going on. Bishop sat at the other end of the bar, eyes downcast.
Nyx stormed in Meggie’s path and shoved her.
“You don’t go any fucking place unless I give you permission. This is my turf. You think you’re so fucking high and mighty? You’re only as powerful as Outlaw allows you to be and we all know that’s minuscule.”
“I suggest you back off, Nyx,” Meggie warned. “Before you really piss me off. You don’t want to see that side of me.”
Nyx pushed her again, so hard Meggie bounced against a wall and then fell onto the floor.
“Fuck, man,” Digger growled and rushed to Meggie, holding his hand out to help her to her feet.
Once she stood, he turned to Nyx. “Get the fuck back to the fucking bar or get out. You out your fucking mind, touching Outlaw woman? He never killing my fucking ass for not killing your fucking ass. Fair warning, bitch.”
“Shut up, Digger. You think she’s a cunt, too,” Nyx snarled. “Narci told me.”
Meggie ignored the hurt settling into her at Digger’s betrayal, worsened by his lack of a denial. Nyx wasn’t the most reliable source. Had she mentioned any other of her family—except Johnnie—besides Digger, Meggie would’ve called her a liar.
“Meggie, listen to me—” Digger started, still not denying Nyx’s accusations.
For days, Christopher had searched for ways to make Meggie cry and she’d been dry.
Over the years, she’d cried buckets for so many different reasons.
Hearing Digger disliked her so much that he disparaged her to Nyx of all people hurt Meggie deeply and sent tears to her eyes.
At the worst possible moment, in front of her biggest hater.
A tear slipped down her cheek, and she sniffled. Nyx cackled.
“Come to my room, baby,” a biker—Chains, Tiny, Zephyr, Dementor, Exorcist, she wasn’t sure—called. “My cock down your throat will make you forget your tears.”
Nyx reached for Meggie again, but the entire situation threw her off-kilter, shocked her, infuriated her, and crushed her. Their disrespect reached new heights .
Instead of allowing Digger to intervene, Meggie shoved him hard enough to send him into a chair, knocking it and him to the floor, then she balled her fist and punched Nyx with all her might.
The third hit was so hard, Nyx flew backward, hit a stool, and dropped to the floor like a stone.
For good measure, she kicked Nyx a few times, not caring that her own toes stung.
“Oh, goddamn.”
At the sound of CJ’s shocked words, Meggie paused mid-kick, turning toward the door. She planted her feet on the floor. The stunned gazes of her potato, the Triplets, and Mortician—the absolute silence of the club—washed over her. Everyone stared at her. She didn’t care. She’d had enough .
She glared amongst the bikers who were there, then met Narci’s panicked gaze. “If you don’t want to die, promise me this will never happen again.” She nodded to the monitors. “Stretch will hear me. He won’t show the footage to Christopher, but he will keep it.”
Mortician walked over to Meggie and tipped her chin, assessing her face. Seeing no injuries, he lifted her hand. Her knuckles were bloody.
“Why you checking her first and not me?” Digger demanded, still sitting on the floor.
“’Cause you a well-known dumbass,” Mortician snapped. “You too fucking old to be act so brand new. You lucky I’m not fucking shooting you, motherfucker. Now, get the fuck out my goddamn face.”
“Why you mad at me?” Digger yelled, hopping to his feet and dusting his butt off.
Mortician glared at Digger.
“Fine, Mort,” he said, and stormed out of the club without looking back.
CJ, Ransom, Ryder, and Axel came to her, while Mortician went to Narci and began a low conversation with him. Potter loped from behind the bar, lifted an unconscious Nyx into his arms and disappeared through the archway that led to the rooms.
Ransom studied her. “Mom, you know how to punch like a dude?”
His uncertainty left her empty.
“Come on, Mom.” CJ guided her to Christopher’s table. “Let me get you a little peroxide to clean up your hand.”
Axel threw his arms around her and kissed her cheek. “You’re so cool, Mom! That was awesome.”
Ryder nodded. “Mad respect. You used to fight girls in school?” he asked as Mortician came to the table.
Meggie shook her head. “I used to fight men.” Thomas. Cee Cee. Spoon. All life and death situations that left her with no choice.
Her boys gaped at her, and the need to cry rose in her again.