A Very Christopher Christmas (A Death Dwellers MC Novella) (21 page)

He could only do one thing at a time. Getting McCallister off his back, one way or the other and as soon as possible, would allow Christopher to focus solely on Megan. While he cared for her, he’d find time to put Howerton to ground with his cock stuffed in his mouth and his hand up his ass.
 

All in due fucking time.
 

At the moment, four hours after the plane had departed and while they sat inside it on the tarmac waiting for an eighteen wheeler so they could start unloading the crates of guns on to it, she was calling him.
 

“We here, baby,” he told her as he answered. “Shit goin’ smooth as fuck.” If it continued as easily, he’d make it back home in time for the Thanksgiving dinner that he’d warned Bunny to not allow Megan anywhere near. “I’ma call you as soon as we get to the hotel.” He’d have time to talk to her for hours. McCallister wasn’t answering his phone now that Christopher had arrived, but he had the drop off location and he wasn’t meeting with him until tomorrow. “I’m fine. Slept most of the way through.”
 

He’d been halfway gone when Val cried about some fucked up door. A little secret few motherfuckers knew was Christopher fucking hated to fly. Whenever he did, on the rare occasions Megan wasn’t with him, he loaded up on sleeping pills. He couldn’t very well be a drugged-up motherfucker with his girl onboard. If something went down, he had to have all his fucking faculties to try and save her life.
 

“So, um, if you’ve been sleeping, you haven’t been socializing with anyone who might be on the plane, huh?”
 

Those words raised his suspicions and were his first fucking clue shit wasn’t right. Only two other motherfuckers besides him and the pilot was supposed to be on the plane. “What the fuck you talkin’ ‘bout? My ass ain’t fuckin’ here to socialize.”
 

“Um’kay. But, er, s-suppose…um, what would happen if someone other than Val and Digger was with you?”
 

His second fucking clue she knew something he wasn’t going to like.
 

“Megan, I ain’t got time to play fuckin’ sixty questions. What the fuck you tryna say?” An image of a blond headed motherfucker rose in his head and Christopher scowled. Megan
would
call to save Johnnie. “Motherfucker on this plane, right, baby? Johnnie. After I fuckin’ suspended him, he brought his ass on this motherfucker? Well, listen up, Megan. I’m beatin’ his fuckin’ ass because—”
 

“Would you shut up, Christopher?” she sniffed. “It isn’t Johnnie.”
 

“Then who the fuck…?” As his voice trailed off, he pictured a red-headed psycho bitch, the only other motherfucker Megan knew was on his hit list. “No,” he said in denial. “You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me, right, baby? That cunt ain’t got on this motherfucker with me.”
 

“Well, um, it d-depends on what cunt you’re talking about.”
 

“You know who the fuck my ass talkin’ ‘bout,” he yelled, unable to contain his anger that Johnnie’s bitch would have the fucking nerve to stow the fuck away. “Motherfuckin’ Kendall. Tell me that bitch ain’t here with me.”
 

“Here might be a relative term,” she told him. “You might be in one part of the plane and she’s in another.”
 

Without thinking, he stormed to his feet and threw his phone aside, intending to fucking
kill
that bitch. Unfortunately, Digger and Val met him halfway and blocked his advance.
 

“Where the fuck she at?”
 

“Now, Prez.” Digger raised his hands but didn’t touch him. “Think about this before you see her.”
 

He pulled his nine from his waistband and aimed it at Digger, his trigger finger itching with the urge to fire. “I ain’t gotta think ‘bout fuck all. I already fuckin’ know.”
 

“Outlaw,” Val started. “That bitch is nuts. Please. You can’t fucking kill an insane bitch. She as bad as Dinah or worse.”
 

Digger smacked the back of Val’s head the moment the words left his mouth. Mentioning Dinah wouldn’t win Kendall no points. Thinking of Megan’s ma angered him all the fucking more. Val must’ve realized his mistake and had the fucking grace to look regretful.
 

“Dinah, huh? Look how the fuck that turned out.” Megan’s ma had tried to fuck him up and got fucked up instead, after helping one of the brothers to betray the club. True, Arrow had used her illness to his advantage, but it still resulted in the same thing. Betrayal and death.
 

The ringer on Val’s phone blared through the small space.
 

“Jesus H. Christ, thank God,” he said as he answered, hitting the speaker phone button.
 

“Christopher,” Megan called, frantic. “Please. Think about what you’re doing. If you kill Kendall, you’ll break Johnnie’s heart and you’ll leave Rory without a mother. She’s also carrying a baby, so you’ll hurt it,” she added.
 

“I gave that bitch a pass, Megan,” he snarled. “It ain’t my fuckin’ fault she a stupid motherfucker who can’t take a reprieve when she fuckin’ get one.”
 

“Christopher—”
 

“Shut up, baby. Tell me you ain’t pissed as a motherfucker with her.” If she
did
speak those fucking words, he’d call her a lying, little motherfucker. Kendall’s actions of the past few days would piss a saint the fuck off.
 

“I’m furious with her,” she admitted, “but that doesn’t mean I want her dead.”
 

And Christopher really didn’t want to kill a pregnant bitch. The little baby was innocent. It wasn’t her fault who her ma was. He scrubbed a hand over his face. He couldn’t fucking believe Kendall had brought her ass on this plane after all the trouble she’d caused.
 

Who the fuck did that?
 

“Stay the fuck in bed, Megan,” he growled in frustration, then stalked back the way he came, taking his seat.
 

“Prez?” Digger said a minute later.
 

“Keep that cunt the fuck away from me,” he grumbled. Knowing he was in close confines with her tested his patience. He truly believed Kendall’s existence served no purpose. Her best fucking state was a dead one.
 

He shifted in his seat, noticing his phone on the floor. As he retrieved it, he thought only a truly psycho bitch would put herself in such a situation. Pregnant or not, fucking her up might be a fucking cruel and unusual punishment. How-fucking-ever, he wouldn’t fucking tempt himself.
 

The further he stayed away from that cunt, the fucking better.
 

 

By the time the arms were unloaded from the plane and onto the truck Christopher rented using a fake name, it was mid-afternoon. He was tired, cold, and hungry. Most of all, he missed Megan. They hadn’t had any more than five fucking minutes to talk since she’d called to save Kendall’s miserable life. He couldn’t exactly drag his fucking ass and stop to call his wife, considering his fucking activities.
 

“Kendall said she cold, Prez.” Digger tossed aside his smoke. He’d been in charge of psycho cunt, tasked with keeping her the fuck out of Christopher’s sight. “She hungry, too.”
 

That pissed Christopher off even more cuz he’d lost a helping hand. Instead of having Digger assist with moving the guns, he’d had to baby-fucking-sit. John Boy needed to have a serious talk with her. Tell her to thank her lucky fucking stars. If Christopher had come the fuck across her stowed the fuck away, he wouldn’t have thought about any-fucking-thing but repaying her for her inter-fucking-ference. Cash and Stretch were doing their assigned duties of surveillance and securing rooms.
 

“She want to know how much longer.”
 

Christopher rounded on Digger, his breath puffing out in cold drafts.
 

“He just the messenger, Outlaw,” Val grunted as he hefted one of the smaller boxes containing ammo. “Don’t fuck him up.”
 

“Where she at?”
 

“In the fucking lounge. Not too happy because it’s not much of a fucking lounge,” Digger explained.
 

No shit. It wasn’t as if they were at JFK or O’Hare. Bitch was lucky they had a fucking room called a goddamn lounge.
 

“We finishin’ up in the next fifteen or twenty minutes. Get a fuckin’ taxi and then call Stretch to find out where the fuck we stayin’. Text me the fuckin’ address.”
 

“She not in a good way, Prez,” Digger said quietly. “She hungry and tired and crying. A lot.”
 

Christopher didn’t feel sorry for her in the least. She did this to her own goddamn self. “All that bitch ever do is cry.”
 

“You not having a problem if I stop and feed her first?”
 

“If it shut her the fuck up, feed her. Throw her a fuckin’ bone. I don’t give a fuck. Just keep her the fuck away from me.”
 

“I’ll pick up something to eat for all of us,” Digger decided. “Have it waiting for you and Val to be warmed up.”
 

“Sound good to me.” Val looked as fucking exhausted as Christopher felt. They’d had little rest, a long flight, and a lot of heavy fucking lifting.
 

Stopping for a smoke, Christopher leaned against the truck and pulled his flask from inside his cut, glad he’d remembered to fill it up before he boarded.
 

“Four more crates,” Val called from the doorway of the plane.
 

Christopher swigged from the flask and swiped his arm over his mouth to remove the tequila left on his lips. “Fuck, let’s do this.” Shoving his alcohol back in his pocket, he geared up to finish.
 

Twenty minutes later, he slammed the door on the truck. The muscles in his arms ached. He needed a hot shower, a little Aunt Mary, and a fifth of tequila. He pulled up the map of the old warehouse one of his chapter presidents had gotten for him after McCallister sent the drop off location early this morning.
 

Christopher was too fucking tired to unload these crates for a third time in less than twenty-four hours, so he intended to drive the truck to the place, park it, and then get to the hotel and start all over again in the morning.
 

Just as he got to the warehouse, Digger texted him the address of the hotel. He and Val hopped in a taxi and gave the address Digger sent to the driver. When the vehicle halted in front of the lodgings, Christopher frowned. It was a big hotel with pretty landscape, valet parking, and an elegant lobby, already decorated for Christmas.
 

He couldn’t escape the holidays and how he’d interrupted his for this.
 

He headed to the room number also included in Digger’s text.
 

“You don’t have to stop to pick up a key?” Val asked, hot on his heels.
 

“Digger said come straight the fuck to the room.”
 

When Digger opened the door, the scent of food hit Christopher and his stomach growled. In the corner, toward the sliding balcony door was covered dishes, plates, and utensils. It registered in Christopher’s brain that he stood in a living room, not an ordinary hotel room. Glancing around, he saw several doors, one of which was closed.
 

“Kendall sleeping,” Digger told him.
 

“You got a fucking suite?” Val asked, his eyes widening.
 

That was exactly what the fuck the motherfucker had done.
 

“You ain’t likin’ that bitch too much, huh? You fuckin’ know if I see her I’m fuckin’ her up.”
 

“I didn’t get it. This room belong to Cash, but I thought it was better for us. It would make Kendall more comfortable. Me and Val could always stay here but you our Prez, so I thought you should have the best.”
 

“Cash knew she was comin’?” Christopher asked for clarification.
 

“No, Prez,” Digger answered.
 

“Don’t make no fuckin’ sense why he got a fuckin’ suite. We ain’t here to fuckin’ party. It don’t matter where my ass be. Kendall still too fuckin’ close.”
 

“Prez, just hear me out.”
 

“Ain’t nothin’ to fuckin’ hear, Digger,” Christopher snapped. He wasn’t going to change his opinion about her and Digger seemed determined to protect her. “Where the fuck I’m sleepin’?”
 

Digger pointed to the door on the left side of the room. “Me or Val out here.”
 

“All I see is one couch,” Val said, frowning.
 

“I figure we can flip a coin to see who get it,” Digger explained. “Whoever lose go to the other room.”
 

Scowling, Val turned on his heel and stomped to the door. “Take the fucking couch. I’m going have a goddamn drink and then taking the single room to stay away from Kendall’s bullshit.”