Misjudged (Death Dwellers #3.5) (8 page)

“You bleeding,” Val went on as Johnnie stalked out of the room and slammed the door behind him. “Let me get some bandages and shit, and see to that.”

Christopher nodded and returned to his seat. Snatching up his bottle of tequila, he drank from the bottle then poured the alcohol over the stab wound, hissing at the stinging pain. Johnnie’s words banged in his head. He couldn’t fucking believe the motherfucker had the fucking audacity to say that bullshit to him.

Fuck him and the fucking bitch he rode in on. He owed fuck all to no-fucking-body but Megan. Yeah, she’d been madder than a motherfucker when he’d announced he was having the Bobs at a meeting. And, yeah, he’d gotten a fucking hard dick watching those bitches suck off Mutt and Jeff. Fuck, and, yeah, he’d had a circle of them bitches at his table after fucking barring Megan from the party he’d fucking decided to have.

His behavior was all kinds of fucked up, but he did it because of how much he fucking loved Megan. He was about to lose his fucking mind not knowing how to help her. How to reach her.

And, most importantly, he felt like a selfish fuck for not wanting the baby she so desperately wanted. They’d always planned on having a bunch of little thems running around. From the fucking moment he’d met Megan, he hadn’t fucking worried about covering his dick. He’d fucking wanted her innocence all over him, as if her pureness could absolve his dirtiness. He’d wanted to mark her, let the whole fucking universe know she belonged to him.

She’d let him. She’d opened herself to him and trusted him with her body, her heart and her life. Whatever he wanted, she gave to him.

But he couldn’t risk her life for another baby’s. He mourned his other boy, too, and wished like a motherfucker the baby would’ve been born alive. Or saved. Or…what-the-fuck ever…he just wished shit was fucking different.

Yet, he was fucking grateful shit had turned out as it had. What the fuck would he have fucking done if both Patrick
and
Megan had fucking died? Or, fuck it all, what would he have fucking done if Patrick had survived and…and…fuck, he couldn’t even fucking finish it.

He would’ve had two sons to raise without his heart and soul with him. He’d just needed a fucking break from his heartache, and—fuck him—his resentment toward Megan.

This marriage shit was hard enough. Sometimes, he fucking wished…he fucking wished he’d kept a part of himself from her. That she didn’t make him lose fucking control the way he did. Sometimes, he wished the only time he wasn’t truly happy and at peace was when she was at his side.

What the fuck would he ever do if some-fucking-thing happened to her?

So he’d gotten the Bobs here. Mutt and Jeff would’ve signed on to run the guns just with the cash alone, but Christopher had just needed a little of
himself
back.

Now, motherfuckers thought he wanted to stick his dick in some other bitch. Everything else might’ve been all fucking fucked up in his head, but he’d never fuck any other fucking girl but Megan. He had no fucking interest in it. He did, how-fucking-ever, have a very healthy fucking cock. Watching bitches suck off motherfuckers worked on his dick, cuz, yeah, he loved having his own dick sucked and that had made him picture Megan sucking him off.

The door opened again and Christopher narrowed his eyes. Johnnie stomped in, carrying a medical bag and glaring at him. They faced off for a moment before Johnnie dropped his eyelids and backed down on the fucking sly.

What the fuck ever. Christopher only fucking backed down to Megan.

“What the fuck you want, motherfucker?” he asked, swigging his drink again.

“I’ve come to sew you the fuck up.”

“Fuck you. You the motherfucker fuckin’ knifed me.”

Johnnie threw him a dirty look, one eye swelling shut. “To fucking stop you from beating my fucking ass,” he argued.

Not responding, Christopher drank again while Johnnie pulled a chair up, grabbed his arm and inspected his wound.

“Ain’t fuckin’ deep.”

A muscle ticked in Johnnie’s jaw. Instead of commenting, he opened the bag and laid out what he needed on the conference table. “I love Kendall, Christopher,” he said, piercing Christopher’s skin for the first stitch.

“Yeah. Then what the fuck you meant when you say you was human, motherfucker, when you fuckin’ spent the day with Megan? Answer me fuckin’ that. Sure the fuck sound like you still got feelins for my fuckin’ wife. Lemme tell you, I’m ‘bout sick of all you motherfuckers fallin’ all over your-fuckin-selfs for Megan.”

Johnnie completed stitch number two with the utmost care, then leaned back. “Ever fucking see how motherfuckers leer at Bailey, Zoann, and Kendall?” He shrugged. “Fuck, Christopher, maybe, some of those motherfuckers do hold Megs above the other girls. I admit I did, too, at one time. But there’s a lot of psychology behind it, too.”

“I fuckin’ swear, John Boy, if you start with your preppy fuckin’ bullshit I’m punchin’ you right the fuck in your fuckin’ mouth.”

“Fuck off, you fucking lunatic,” Johnnie barked, jerking back to his task and then pausing to allow his fingers to stop shaking. “Before Megan, every other girl we hung around was a fucking free-for-all, asshole. Then, she comes and she’s suddenly off-limits to everyone but you. That alone made her the most fascinating creature in history. So, yes, we all wanted a piece of her to find out on that basis alone. But she’s young and gorgeous. She was also innocent as fuck. You know what else she is?
Who
else she is?”

Christopher scowled. Of course, he knew. He just never thought anyone else gave a fuck. “Big Joe’s baby girl.”

“One more,” Johnnie said, after doing stitch number four and keeping his gaze averted. “I was never as close to him as you were,” he began quietly, “but, somehow, he was still a big part of my life.”

“I don’t want to hear nothin’ ‘bout that motherfucker—“

“Leading Zoann to believe you didn’t want her was wrong, Christopher. A betrayal. But he did it for you.”

“He fuckin’ knew how much I love Bitsy. The fuckin’ bullshit he did wasn’t for me—“

“If he wouldn’t have kept Zoann away and she’d told you, you would’ve gone after Logan and Cee Cee.”

“Ain’t only woulda fuckin’ went after them motherfuckers. I woulda fuckin’ buried them.”

“You would’ve gotten yourself fucking killed.”

“No the fuck—“

“You were twenty-four years old. Street smart? Yes. But you didn’t have half the fucking instincts then that you do now. My guess is Logan was hoping you’d find out. You might’ve killed Cee Cee, but, I bet there was a contingency plan where someone would’ve stepped up and hunted you down. What about Logan? Suppose you’d found out and went to Columbia? You would’ve been in a foreign country where Logan had probably set up informants. The moment you got anywhere near him, you would’ve been shot down like a dog and fed to his fucking starving pigs.”

Christopher yanked his arm away the moment Johnnie tied the fifth stitch off.

“You have a bunch of reasons to hate Joseph Foy. This time? Hate what he did, but don’t hate him. He did what he had to do to save your fucking life.”

“What the fuck that got to do with Megan?”

“You know exactly what the fuck it has to do with her, motherfucker. With us and her. If we’d thought for one moment she was here to harm you, none of us would’ve hesitated to slit her fucking throat to keep you safe. Just
because
she was that motherfucker’s daughter. Do you understand me? We would’ve rode her hard, used her, and then carved her to little pieces just like we finished Big Joe. That’s the ugly fucking truth. Have we entertained those thoughts after the only discussion we all had while you were in the hospital? Fuck no. Fuck, I don’t think that’s crossed my mind since that day.”

“You woulda fuckin’ hurt Megan like that when we ain’t never hurt no girls?”

Johnnie squeezed the bridge of his nose. “It all goes back to Big Joe. She was
his
girl, which meant she would’ve gotten special treatment. I don’t know, Christopher. Maybe, we’re trying to make up for it to her. Or, maybe, we feel guilty as fuck for just wanting to fuck her and imagining how
you
fuck her. Fuck, whether it’s right or not, most of these motherfuckers do hold her above every other woman. She’s Big Joe’s daughter. She’s your wife. And, fuck, she glued you the fuck back together and gave you what you needed to run this club the way we all knew you could. You hated Big Joe as much as you hated yourself for killing him. She forgave you and, in turn, you forgave him and yourself.”

Johnnie fell silent and folded his arms, but Christopher didn’t say anything, too shocked at his brother’s confession about what they’d spoken of for Megan’s fate to say much else.

“Your head’s slowly doing another assdive, by the way.”

That
got Christopher’s attention. “What the fuck you mean?”

“You’re hating him again.” Johnnie blew out a breath. “I’m getting back in Megan’s good graces after our falling out. The only feelings I have for her are that of friendship and respect. Fuck, life is what it is.
Yes,
I loved her. I can’t fucking change the past. But I let her go. In here—“ he touched his head—“and in here—“ then moved his fingers to his heart. “I skipped fucking adolescence and having fucking puppy love. I loved Megan first but it doesn’t mean I love her the most.” He shook his head. “Love is hard. When I told you I’m human, I just meant I took the opportunity to spend my day with Megan because I didn’t have to think about Kendall. I didn’t have to worry about her and yearn for her. I didn’t have to fucking jerk off to thoughts of cutting Spoon’s eyeballs out and hacking off his lips and nose, and watching him fucking suffer. I had to hurry up with him, you know? I couldn’t do what I wanted to do to him.”

Odd how much Johnnie’s need to find peace resembled Christopher’s. He was also fucking right. Although Christopher already knew love was harder than a motherfucker, it was worth every moment. “You motherfuckers call me fuckin’ psycho. You one sick fuck, assfuck.”

Johnnie and Christopher bumped fists at the comment and snickered, their argument forgotten.

“Yo’, Prez,” Mortician said as he opened the door.

Christopher frowned. “Where the fuck you been, Mort?”

The club enforcer averted his eyes and shrugged. “Taking care of shit.” He nodded to Johnnie. “How’s Red?”

“Kendall should be home in nine days. I want to surprise her and have everything ready for us to get married when we walk in the door.”

That’s the bitch Johnnie wanted, so Christopher would shut the fuck up. He just hoped he didn’t have to fucking one day kill that bitch. Johnnie was talking about fucking up Megan. Well, that shit fucking worked both fucking ways. While they’d abandoned the thought to disappear his girl, Christopher would give a fortune to be able to get to Kendall and choke the fuck out of her.

Kendall’s ringtone peeled through the air as if Christopher conjured that bitch from fucking dragon flames. He wished like fuck Johnnie would go back to the old ringtone cuz this new motherfucker
All About That Bass
annoyed the living fuck out of him.

The moment Johnnie answered, Christopher got to his feet. Time for him to fucking leave.

“Wait, gorgeous, let me ask. Christopher?” Johnnie’s call halted Christopher’s departure. “Where’s Megan? Kendall has been trying to call her and she isn’t answering her phone.”

“Fucking Red,” Mortician mumbled, scowling.

“What the fuck she mean,
where Megan
?” He glared at Mortician and stepped closer. “And what the fuck you mean,
fucking Red
?”

“All right. Call me back.” Johnnie hung up. “Bailey was on the other line, so…”

Christopher tuned him out and focused on Mortician. “Where the fuck my wife, Mort?”

“Prez—“

“This motherfucker stabbed me here,” he explained, pointing between Johnnie and his arm. “I pulled my piece. He still fuckin’ breathin’. Familiar fuckin’ story, huh? Time for a new fuckin’ endin’, so lemme clue you the fuck in. If I gotta pull my piece a-fuckin-gain to-fuckin-night, I’m fuckin’ shootin’. Hear me? Now, I’m fuckin’ askin’ you
a-fuckin-gain, where my fuckin’ girl?
”

“Where she supposed to be, Prez?”

Christopher let out a roar and Johnnie hurried between him and Mort. “Fuck, you stupid motherfucker, tell him before you get your ass shot off.”

“All right! Fuck, man, try to do right round this motherfucker and end up with a fucking bullet in your head.” Mortician yanked Meggie’s cellphone and car keys from his cut and tossed them to Christopher, who caught them on reflex. “She at Bailey’s and Chester going get her to bring her here.”

“What the fuck goin’ on? Why—?”

“Prez, I can’t tell you. Meggie gotta be the one to do this shit.”

“Tell me fuckin’ what?” What the fuck was wrong with him? It just hit him that he hadn’t seen Megan since this morning. After he’d discovered the video footage and fucked up Val, he’d watched the shit. Watched that motherfucker stick his fucking fingers in his girl’s pussy. Everything became a blur from there. “Is CJ here?”

As long as his boy was here, Christopher knew Megan was coming back.