A Very Christopher Christmas (A Death Dwellers MC Novella) (17 page)

Scooping his nephew into his arms and getting to his feet, Christopher grimaced at the kid’s loud cries. CJ and Ryan stood side-by-side, frowning in confusion. “You two, go play.”
 

They ran off, their loud, happy screams trailing behind them.
 

It took a few minutes to quiet Rory, but Christopher finally succeeded, thankful when the little boy fell asleep, although he continued to sniffle.
 

“Jesus H. Christ,” Val said on a sigh. “What the fuck they do to that kid?”
 

It was what the fuck they wasn’t doing that was the fucking problem. “They ain’t lettin’ him be a kid,” he said simply, adjusting Rory on his shoulder. “But I ain’t come to talk ‘bout them two motherfuckers. I came to see how the fuck John Boy doin’.”
 

“When we left, he was fine, Prez,” Digger answered. “Cash got the bullet out of him and Brooks.”
 

“John Boy pissed you off bad,” Val said quietly.
 

“His bitch pissed me the fuck off bad.”
 

Digger nodded. “We understand.”
 

Val gazed at CJ and Ryan, who chased each other in the center of the park. “What now?”
 

Yeah, what the fuck now? McCallister hadn’t come right out and made a threat against Christopher or the club, but now the transfer of the money escalated things to the next level.
 

On the other fucking hand…What the fuck was wrong with him? Johnnie’s revelation had fucking knocked him off his game for a minute. No fucking way would Christopher do this only on McCallister’s terms. The motherfucker had yet to give a drop-off location stateside or international. If Christopher had to deliver the goods himself then McCallister had to fucking deal on Christopher’s terms. The motherfucker had to give if he expected to take. Otherwise, Christopher had to kill him. Fucking simple as that. He’d interrupt his holidays for a little bloodshed, but oh-fucking-well. Worse shit had happened around this time.
 

He still might have to kill the motherfucker, whether he accepted Christopher’s terms or not. Riley couldn’t get a heads-ups on McCallister’s clients. Other than knowing the arms dealer, Christopher would be going in blind. And the motherfucker expected him to leave the country. He just hadn’t said to go fucking where.
 

Fuck, no, this shit wouldn’t fly.
 

“I’ll tell you what the fuck now.” Setting Rory in Digger’s lap, Christopher pulled out his phone and sent Cash a text. In a moment, a response came through.
 

“McCallister,” a voice answered after Christopher punched in the numbers Cash sent to him.
 

“This Outlaw,” Christopher responded.
 

“Glad we’ve come to a meeting of the minds.”
 

“We ain’t, so here’s what the fuck I’m thinkin’…” Something he should’ve been considering long before now, after he’d called Val to get their location. "I didn’t sign off on this fuckin’ deal, but I gotcha fuckin’ money. That shit not a fuckin’ problem. I sent it the fuck back to you once before. My ass’ll do it the fuck again.”
 

“Is that so? Do you know how unhappy that’ll make me? Most people go out of their way to keep me happy.”
 

“I ain’t most fuckin’ people. I don’t give a fuck ‘bout keepin’ your ass happy, ‘specially if
my
ass not.” Pacing in front of the bench, he lowered his voice. They wanted him? Then they were going to have to take him on his terms. Besides, one way to get the entire fucking club off the hook for retaliation was to personally piss the motherfucker off. “You fuckin’ hear me?”
 

“Are ya saying the deal’s off?”
 

“What the fuck I’m sayin’ is you want this motherfucker to go through, you meetin’ some of my goddamn demands.”
 

“More money?”
 

“Fuck you. Fuck no.”
 

“You insult me.
 

“That fuckin’ matter to me how?”
 

“What do you want, Caldwell? Lay down your terms so I can accept or rebuff them.”
 

“My terms simple,” Christopher said coldly, throwing the motherfucker’s words back at him. “You want the fuckin’ arms, you come stateside and get the motherfuckers yourself. I’ll meet you on the East Coast.
Stateside,
” he reiterated. “You choose the location.”
 

“No.”
 

“Then fuck you. I’ma send your fuckin’ money back.”
 

“And that’s your final answer?”
 

“It sure the fuck is. I ain’t the motherfucker wantin’ the guns. I ain’t the motherfucker needin’ your fuckin’ money. I’m the motherfucker
with
the guns. You ain’t dealin’ this my way, we ain’t fuckin’ dealin’ no fuckin’ way.”
 

“You’re a hard man to bargain with. How do I know this isn’t a setup?”
 

“Fuckin’ exactly. How the fuck I know my ass comin’ overseas not a fuckin’ setup? My guns. My turf. Or no fuckin’ deal.” It was as fuckin’ simple as that.
 

“What would you say if I told you I might have to kill you for your disrespect?”
 

“Then me and my club ready for your ass.”
 

“No, not your club.
You.
According to your attorney, they’re willing to work with me. He said you were, too. You’re saying something different so you’re the one loose end.”
 

“Motherfuckers been gunnin’ for my ass before.”
 

McCallister offered a noisy breath. “Let me think about it,” he said and disconnected the call.
 

“Damn, Prez,” Digger repeated, staring at him with wide eyes.
 

CJ barreled into his legs and stood on his boots, reaching his hands up. “I tired, ‘Law.”
 

“You think pissing this dude off wise, Outlaw?” Val asked as Ryan climbed onto his lap.
 

Christopher lifted CJ into his arms, thinking of Megan and his children. “I ain’t gettin’ the right feelin’, Val. This motherfucker insistin’ I deliver the shit. Why? If I gotta do it, I’m doin’ it here. If shit go down, Megan’ll have it fuckin’ easier. If I’m fuckin’ arrested, she can visit me in jail easier. If I’m fuckin’ injured, she can get to me in a hospital quicker. And if I’m fuckin’ killed, she can get my body back without a buncha fuckin’ bullshit.”
 

“But, Prez, you pissing him off.
You,
” Digger reiterated. “At least with the bullshit Kendall did, she kind of had the whole club on the line…” Eyes widening, his voice trailed off. “Fuck, Outlaw, you doing this shit on purpose. To get the heat off the club.”
 

“I do what the fuck I gotta,” Christopher said. “
I’m
the president, so I do what I need to when I got stupid motherfuckers tryna get the whole fuckin’ club in fuckin’ shit.”
 

“Then you didn’t need to shoot John Boy if you going to find a way to take the fucking fall,” Val said angrily.
 

Christopher lifted a brow. “Tone it the fuck down before I fuck you up.”
 

“No, Prez, Val right. I mean this some bullshit. You risking your life because of Johnnie and you didn’t even
kill
the motherfucker for what he did.”
 

“Cuz it wasn’t
him.
It was fucking Kendall,” he snarled. “And, yeah, even if I hadn’t lost my fuckin’ shit and thought ‘bout this in Brooks’s office, Johnnie still deserved to be fuckin’ shot. Fuck, if Kendall had been right the fuck in front of me, I probably woulda shot the fuck outta her. But I ain’t goin’ to that cunt with the purpose of fuckin’ her up. She pregnant and I don’t pre-fuckin-meditate the murder of no bitch, let alone one belongin’ to us, and one who pregnant.”
 

“Outlaw—”
 

“Prez, if he accept the deal, I’m comin’,” Digger said, interrupting whatever Val might’ve said.
 

Before Christopher said anything, his phone rang. “Outlaw,” he answered.
 

“It’s a go, Caldwell,” McCallister greeted coolly. “I’ll call you in a couple of hours with the meeting location.”
 

As Christopher hung up, McCallister’s behavior struck him as odd. And then it hit him. The motherfucker was acting on behalf of some-fucking-body else. He was a fucking dealer, acquiring guns and ammo from one motherfucker and then disposing them to another. But he’d need authority both ways. In this situation, he seemed to be just the middle-fucking-man, kinda the way Christopher had once been when Big Joe gave him just enough authority to go so far without actually closing a deal.
 

So just who the fuck was McCallister working for?
 

 

Stuffing the last of the endorsed checks into the bank bag and zipping it closed, Meggie leaned back in her desk chair. She’d turned the room across the hall from Christopher’s man cave into an office, decorated in white and lavender. In her office, she kept all the business records for their clients in the file cabinets, while Zoann kept the medical records. They both signed off on all checks and held monthly meetings to go over income, expenses, and clients.
 

It was a good setup, one that Meggie enjoyed and one that gave her another source of pride. She was a business owner, in addition to being a mother and a wife.
 

Smiling at the thought, she startled at the sound of her ringing cell phone. Doctor Will’s name and number flashed across the screen, so Meggie answered immediately.
 

“Hey,” she greeted.
 

“Hi, Meggie.”
 

The physician’s cheery voice lifted Meggie’s spirits. She knew Christopher had made an appointment with her. Though she’d offered to accompany him, she hadn’t been upset when he’d said he wanted to go alone. He needed the doctor’s reassurance without Meggie influencing what either of them said.
 

“Meggie?”
 

“Oh, hey.”
 

“Do you have a few minutes?”
 

“Sure.”
 

“Mr. Caldwell came to visit—”
 

“I know.”
 

Doctor Will sighed. “He asked me to look over your records. I had them faxed from Dr. Howerton and I’ve read through them.
 

“Thank you so much,” Meggie said with relief. “We’re both worried that Dr. Howerton has missed something. I haven’t been feeling well at all. He said it was just effacement. Ten percent, so I shouldn’t worry.”
 

“It’s a little more than that.”
 

The OB’s words knocked Meggie’s breath away. “Is the baby okay?” she asked, recovering herself and finding her voice. “He’s been moving.” All through the day and sometimes at night. He’d been kicking today.
 

“Nothing’s wrong with your son. However, you’re already dilated one centimeter.”
 

Meggie’s hand flew to her mouth and she gripped the cell phone tighter. “Dilated? Like I’m in labor?”
 

“Yes. Pre-term labor. I’m sending in a prescription. Take it every four hours, nonstop, around the clock.”
 

That would be no problem. Ever since she’d had CJ, she awakened every three or four hours. “Do I have to be hospitalized?”
 

“Not yet. Not if the drug halts the dilation. You will need strict bedrest.”
 

“O-okay,” Meggie answered, her voice trembling. Her hand went to her belly. Right now, Ryder was still. Logically, she knew he went silent at some point every day. But she wanted a way to awaken him, to reassure herself he was still alive inside of her. “He isn’t moving right now. Is he okay?”
 

“I promise you he is.”
 

“What happens if I go into labor now? Will he live? Or would he…” Tears rolled down her cheeks as she thought of Patrick. She’d been heavily sedated the one time she’d gotten to hold him. He was already dead and…a sob escaped her. “Will he leave, too?”
 

It was so stupid, her inability to think of her son as
dead
. She knew that’s what he was, but she hated to say it. Just the word seemed to be a bad omen. Death had stolen her mother just months ago and now it was back, trying to get another son from her.
 

An image of Dinah raced across Meggie’s mind and fresh grief hit her. Sometimes, it was still hard to believe that Dinah had stabbed Christopher. Meggie wished she’d been there that day. She could’ve stopped her mother, but she and Christopher had argued because she hadn’t wanted him to leave the club.
 

He
loved
his MC and she firmly believed he’d regret his decision. Church had taken place that day and he’d intended to resign. Only her anger had stopped him. If not for the argument, she would’ve come to the club as soon as the meeting ended.