Chapter Twenty-Nine—Christopher
“I can’t fucking believe you shot two of my fingers off,” Johnnie spat, the moment Christopher opened the door, walked in, and woke that fuckhead up.
Not speaking, Christopher lit a cigarette and sat in a chair near the bed, watching the motherfucker prop himself up on one pillow and his bandaged hand on another.
“What do you have to say for yourself, brother?”
“Not a motherfuckin’ thing, brother,” Christopher responded, his murderous fury bubbling up again. “Cuz lemme fuckin’ tell you, you ain’t pullin’ that fuckin’ card after the way you stabbed me in the goddamn back.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? I’ve never betrayed you.”
“We both know that’s a big fuckin’ lie. You called some of the chapter presidents, motherfuckers long my allies, and put it in their fuckin’ heads that we need peace.”
Guilt crossed Johnnie’s face.
“Why? I’m beginnin’ to think you workin’ with Bash.”
Johnnie’s eyes bulged, but a liar used pretenses for everyfuckinthing. “I’m insulted you’d even think that.”
“Ain’t no fuckin’ skin off my nuts. I don’t give a fuck what the fuck insult you. You doin’ something because you can’t still think you wanna save the fuckin’ day without me.”
Black fury darkened Johnnie’s face. “You’re a fuckhead. You act as if I’m a piece of shit. A newbie. Like I don’t have the brains or the balls to face off with Bash.”
“You don’t, so fuck you.”
“Get the fuck out.”
Johnnie struggled to a sitting position. Whatever Mort had given him, so he’d sleep through Church hadn’t quite worn off. Christopher bet that motherfucker would be wide the fuck awake very fucking soon.
“I forgot you don’t understand intelligent English, so let me say it in your language. Git your fuckin’ ass the fuck out of this motherfucker.”
Christopher was almost impressed. “I don’t say git and you too fuckin’ preppy to even try and sound like me.”
“Get out, Christopher. You annoy me.”
“Then we even cuz you annoy the fuck out of me. Ain’t no motherfuckin’ reason for you to be so fuckin’ stupid. Ain’t no fuckin’ reason motherfuckers got to repeat the same shit over and fuckin’ over cuz you ain’t got a bit of fuckin’ common sense or loyalty.”
“Fuck you. I have more loyalty than you give me credit for.”
“In your fuckin’ dreams. I give credit where the fuck credit due and the motherfucker ain’t due you.”
“Answer this,” Johnnie sneered. “If, in all your supposed genius, I don’t have loyalty or common sense, what the fuck am I?”
“If you ain’t fuckin’ figured that shit out, you never fuckin’ will.”
“Or, maybe, you’re jealous of me. You know you don’t hold a candle to me. You’ve always wanted to be me. Grandda once said you kept me around to be your lackey. He was right. I should’ve listened to him.”
“Motherfucker, the day I wanna be you is the day I fuck myself up. You don’t know your fuckin’ asshole from your fuckin’ dickhole.
If your cock never pointed to pussy, you wouldna known how the fuck to find it on your fuckin’ own or what the fuck to do with it if you did find it.
You got a fuckin superiority complex a mile fuckin’ long.
You a fuckin’ dumb, stupid, blind, bitter, arrogant, pretentious, witless, fucked-up, mean, pussy-face fuckbag. ”
“You didn’t shoot me for anything else but what I told you the other night when you were flirting with my wife.”
“I wasn’t flirtin’ with your bitch,” Christopher snapped, not denying the other charge. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“You.”
Rory opened the door and peeped in.
“What are you doing here, son?” Johnnie asked in surprise. He glanced at the clock. It was close to 9PM.
“Uncle Christopher called me.” Rory walked into the room and closed the door behind him. “He said to meet him here.”
“Next time, call me. I’m your father. He had no right to summon you.”
Christopher wouldn’t get into that debate either. He got to his feet and pointed to the chair. “Sit, Rory.”
“Don’t you dare listen to him!” Johnnie snarled.
Hesitation crossed Rory’s face. “This club business, so sit the fuck down. My word trumps your old man’s. You, Johnnie, shut the fuck up.”
Once Rory complied, he glanced uneasily at Christopher, his pulse pounding in his neck.
Unholstering his .44 Magnum, Christopher shoved it against Rory’s temple. The kid burst into tears.
Ignoring his nephew, Christopher met Johnnie’s gaze.
“What the fuck that motherfuckin’ letter said, Johnnie?”
“What…? Uh, what…?” Johnnie lost his color. “What letter?”
Fury from the failed attempt to move against Bash still lingered in Christopher. “You really fuckin’ riskin’ your boy life by handin’ me that fuckin’ line?”
“Rory, son, he won’t pull the trigger.”
Christopher jiggled the barrel against Rory’s temple. “I think Megan in danger from Bash. Ain’t too sure why when not a motherfucker findin’ nothin’. You, motherfucker, playin’ fuckin’ games. Fuckin’ fine if it ain’t involvin’ my wife.”
“You involved mine!”
“Fuck you. Kendall the motherfuckin’ attorney and she got more fuckin’ brains than you ever fuckin’ hope to have.”
“I’ll never forgive you for this. I don’t know what fucking letter you’re talking about. Get the fuck out with your fucking showboating. I—”
Christopher cocked the gun. “You really wanna risk Rory life on what the fuck I might do? He involved cuz of you.”
“Christopher—”
“What the letter said, Johnnie?”
“It mentioned Randolph. He contacted Bash—”
“You already said that shit. Tell me what the fuck Bash want.”
“Money,” Johnnie said, tears in his eyes, his breath coming in harsh pants, finally realizing the fucking seriousness of the situation.
“Do he think Megan own the club?”
“No. Hopper said he doesn’t know.” Johnnie gave him a beseeching look. “Don’t do this. Please. We went through this, too.”
“In fuckin’ case you ain’t realized it, I don’t fuckin’ believe you.”
Johnnie’s sobs matched Rory’s. “Christopher, please, don’t hurt Rory. I’d never live with myself—”
“You ain’t got to worry about that, motherfucker, cuz you’d get fucked up, too. Club business. You both disobeyed me. You both fuckin’ lyin’ to me.”
“Th-think of Kendall. It would break her heart. Would you kill her? What would become of Matilda, JJ, and Blade?”
“Think of my Megan. What would happen to my kids, me, if Bash kills her?”
“She’s not in any danger,” Johnnie cried. “I swear! God, I swear. Just don’t hurt Rory. Please.”
Growling in frustration, Christopher moved the barrel from Rory’s temple, and de-cocked the gun. Rory covered his face, bent over, and sobbed into his hands. Furious that his gut said one thing but evidence pointed to something else, Christopher stalked to the other side of Johnnie’s bed.
“Look at me, Rory,” Christopher ordered.
“Uncle Christopher—”
“Look at me now.”
The minute Rory complied, Christopher shoved the gun in Johnnie’s mouth.
“Uncle Christopher!” Rory yelled, weeping pitifully, and jumping to his feet. “Don’t hurt my dad.”
The thought of pulling the trigger crossed Christopher’s mind.
Then, he saw Kendall and Mattie’s faces.
They’d never understand why he took Johnnie away.
Perhaps, Kendall would, but it would still destroy her.
No matter how angry she was with that motherfucker, she loved him.
She’d almost lost her shit when Christopher shot Johnnie earlier.
Then, there was Rory. Playing both ends against the middle.
Trying to protect Johnnie and appease Christopher—CJ.
Those two goals could never find a common ground.
Even if he didn’t kill Rory and fucked up Johnnie, the kid would turn into another Rule.
“What the fuck the letter said, Rory?”
His wet gaze flickered away, then met Christopher’s. “I told you, Uncle Christopher. I swear.”
“You ain’t torn that motherfucker up, did you?”
“I said—”
Christopher cocked the gun and Johnnie’s sound of distress upset Rory more than having the barrel against his head.
“Are you going to hurt my dad if I tell the truth?”
“You just fuckin’ admitted he fuckin’ lied!”
“No! No, please, Uncle Christopher. Please.”
“You got three fuckin’ seconds to tell me—”
“Yes, Dad tore it!” he cried, close to hyperventilating.
“Why?”
“Because…because…”
“Cuz your Aunt Megan in danger, yeah?”
Rory shook his head wildly. “No! I swear…no. He didn’t want Mom to find the letter and involve herself anymore than she already has. I swear, Uncle Christopher. I swear. Just put the gun away. Don’t hurt my dad.”
“Bash playin’ a motherfuckin’ game. I feel it in my goddamn bones.
Johnnie ain’t fuckin’ equipped to handle that motherfucker.
Know how the fuck I know? Cuz he always relied on me to fix his shit.
He was better at takin’ directions, then leadin’ the fuckin’ club.
” He yanked the gun away and punched the side of Johnnie’s head.
“We worked, John Peter, cuz you understood your fuckin’ limitations.
That was one of your greatest fuckin’ assets. ”
“You were going to kill me and Rory,” Johnnie said dully.
“I still wanna kill you,” Christopher spat.
“But know this, motherfucker. Somethin’ in me might not pull the trigger cuz we family, but if I’m missin’ something that I find out you knew and Megan end up hurt, you dead, Johnnie.
So’s Ghost and every other one of those motherfuckers who stood with you. ”
He needed club resources to continue his search. As long as he was president, he had authority, though watered down because of Johnnie. Outlaw was known so Christopher’s power extended outside the boundaries of the club. If he was forced out, however, he’d be seen as a threat.
Like traitors, threats were dealt with.
However the club resolved the Bash issue, it would be while Christopher was in control. Then, he’d resign.
“There’s nothin’ to find, Christopher, especially about Megan,” Johnnie broke in. “I wouldn’t risk Rory’s life.”
“We had Church tonight,” Christopher started, and explained the outcome. “I ain’t wanted to risk your wife, Johnnie. Hear me? But there’s a fuckin’ reason she want to talk to Bash other than gettin’ Hopper’s phone number. She said she got questions about family ties.”
That might’ve been the truth. She wanted to find out more about the girl named Jana. It was possible that simple. It just wasn’t fucking probable.