Chapter Eight #3
“Why don’t you just order Prez to get a custom-made bitch seat, Meggie?” Digger asked irritably.
“Love the idea,” Meggie said.
He’d been facetious. She was serious.
“Make that second seat custom-made, Christopher,” she said.
“Thanks, assfuck,” Christopher growled.
“I wasn’t serious!” Digger called.
“Then you should’ve shut the fuck up,” Mortician said in disgust.
Johnnie studied her. “You aren’t serious, are you, Megan?”
“Quite.”
“What if Dad got to pick one of us, Mom?” Axel scrunched his little face. “Me and Gunner could fit on a seat made for you, but nobody else. Not even the Blonde Viper.”
She was allowing jealousy to rear its ugly head again. Her children were right. Sometimes, Christopher put one of them on the back of his bike.
“Baby, I swear I ain’t puttin’ no other woman in your seat ever again if she ain’t a family member.”
“If I had you on the back of my bike, I’d never taint that space and allow another woman in that spot,” Easton said, his stare just this side of respectful.
Embarrassment swept through Meggie, and she flushed in spite of her best efforts.
“Motherfucker,” Christopher snarled, wrapping an arm around her waist as he stormed to his feet. “Get the fuck outta here before I blow you the fuck away.”
Meggie wiggled until he set her on her feet. “He doesn’t mean that, Mr. Love—”
“That can’t be your real fuckin’ name,” Christopher raged.
“Who the fuck hired you? This shit too fuckin’ suspicious.
You prancin’ in here, lookin’ like him , and just happenin’ to know about finances.
” He turned to Johnnie. “Find a fuckin’ written math test. If he ain’t passin’ it, he fuckin’ dyin’. ”
“Christopher, shut up!” Meggie smiled at Easton. “It’s a peaceful club—”
“The fuck it is!” Christopher kicked a chair. “ Any motherfucker bold enough to flirt with you in front my fuckin’ face, brave enough to face my fuckin’ wrath.”
“What did you just say?” Meggie thought of all the times she’d had to endure the club girls flirting with Christopher right in front of her face. “Shut up, Christopher,” she fumed. “Before you make me really mad.”
“I ain’t givin’ a good fuck. You tellin’ Rebel how much you love me, then laughin’ and gigglin’ with this motherfucker in front my goddamn face. I ain’t fuckin’ havin’ it.”
“Uh, Prez, you might want to dial it the fuck back before Meggie girl clock you,” Mortician advised.
Christopher ignored him and rounded on Easton. He pulled his.9mm and pointed it at the financial advisor’s head.
“Jesus, Christopher,” Johnnie said. “Put that fucking gun away.”
“Dad, you don’t have to kill him,” CJ said calmly. “We can rough him up.”
The words served as an icy reminder of how entrenched her son was already in the club.
“I don’t infringe on another man’s woman,” Easton said, unfazed by the gun trained on him or the threats of violence.
“You’re flirting with her in front of Dad’s face,” Ryder accused.
“Find me that fuckin’ test, Johnnie! Now!” Christopher glowered at Easton, anger and fear and wildness in his eyes. “Motherfucker, you dead. Comin’ in my club, tryin’ to steal my Megan.”
“Uncle Chris, why don’t we retire to the board room.” Diesel glanced from Meggie to Rebel. “This is club business.”
Rebel gasped.
Meggie saw red. She shoved Christopher, catching him off-guard. He stumbled and stared at her.
“Anything you and your sons don’t want me and Rebel to know will be classified as club business, jerk!”
“It is!” Digger said flatly.
Tired of him too, Meggie grabbed Christopher’s beer bottle and lobbed it at Digger’s stupid head. It hit him dead center, bounced, and crashed to the ground, shattering on impact.
“I don’t want to see your miserable face, Digger,” Meggie snarled. She turned to Christopher. “As far you, I’m sleeping in Rebel’s room. I expect Easton to still be alive tomorrow .”
“How the fuck’s that’s fair when you ordered Torie killed?” Johnnie sneered.
A buzzing started in Meggie’s head. She stared at Johnnie, a part of her not believing he’d blurted that information in front of a stranger. On the other hand, this was Johnnie . All the intelligence she believed he had was only a smokescreen. A brick had more brains.
Sanity returned to Christopher, too. His gun disappeared and his facade of civility returned. “Don’t know what the fuck you mean, Johnnie. Megan don’t know a fuckin’ Torie.”
Meggie glared at Johnnie. “Neither does Christopher.”
“My mistake,” he responded.
Christopher wrapped an arm around Meggie’s waist and kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered.
Meggie nodded curtly.
Releasing her, Christopher sighed. “Reb, I’m thinkin’ about gettin’ another fixer upper. You interested in workin’ on it with me?”
Rebel considered Easton, then looked at Meggie, and finally at her daddy. “Can I ask you something, Momma?”
“Whatever you need to know, love.”
“How do you handle all the women? How can Daddy ever know what it feels like if you pass up your chance to show him?”
“Your ma ain’t got to do a long, drawn out thing, Rebel,” Christopher barked. “This shit enough for my ass.”
He sounded like he was on the verge of unhinging again. This time, instead of kicking a chair, he’d leave a body. He didn’t handle jealousy well, so she’d have to think long and hard if she decided to hire Easton. There’d been enough blood and death the last few months.
Peace was long overdue.