Misappropriate (19 page)

God, please! Don’t make me have to run over him.
But, she knew, if she had to, she would; to get away, back to Christopher, back to her son, but Cee Cee jumped out the way at the last minute.

Meggie gunned the car forward and sped away, hating that she had to bring this to Christopher and wishing she could somehow hide this incident from him.

But knowing that wasn’t an option.

When Christopher reached the clubhouse and then checked his own house, it pissed him off not to find Megan. His boys all gave him the silent treatment for the way he’d gone off on her. Maybe, his words had been fucked up and they’d come out wrong like a motherfucker and made him look like an assfuck. He’d just been so fucking furious when Bin called and reported Megan had gone to a tattoo parlor with Bunny.

Christopher couldn’t imagine anything—even ink—marring Meggie’s beautiful skin. Yeah, it was her body and she could do what she wanted with it, but, to him, she was just so perfect. Then, to discover a
man
was touching her body.

Fuck him, if Megan wasn’t his handicap. She made him wild with jealousy and one insecure motherfucker. He couldn’t keep her in a fucking cage but he was afraid like a motherfucker that she’d open her eyes one day and realize he was nothing but a piece of shit. And leave him.

But he wanted her happy and, if it took leaving him to make her happy, he’d step the fuck aside and let her walk away. After the scene in the parlor shop, it wouldn’t surprise him if she’d pack her shit once she returned. Before her, if a chick had gone all psycho fuckhead on him, he would’ve told her she’d lost her fucking mind and then left her the fuck alone.

Sitting at the bar, Mortician placed a beer in front of him. Dinah was at the house with CJ and Christopher knew Meggie wouldn’t leave without their boy. That meant, sooner or later, she’d return to the club.

“Yo’, Prez,” Val called.

Christopher glanced over his shoulder, glowering a warning to him.

“You’re an asshole, talking to Meggie like that.”

“Fuck you,” he growled.

Johnnie glared at him, stalking behind the bar to get a bottle of whisky, wanting to jump in his shit. Christopher wished he would. He needed to do something to get this fucking sick anger out of him. It had been lingering ever since Cee Cee had fucked with Megan, ever since Christopher discovered the man who’d given him life—given him the name he fucking detested—still breathed. Just knowing they both drew in air on Planet Earth sent equal parts of shame, humiliation, and fury through him.

He dialed Meggie’s number again. When it went straight to voicemail, he drew in a deep breath.

“This is Meggie. Leave a message.”

Even her voice was bright, the light to his darkness. She’d brought sunshine to his life, pulled him from the pits, and made him think.

“Megan—“ he began gruffly after the beep.

“Outlaw,” Mortician interrupted.

Christopher looked up and the man pointed his thumb in the direction of the monitor that showed the gate. Stretch was opening it to let Megan in. Hanging up, he got to his feet. He’d embarrassed her in front of everyone, he’d apologize—

“Holy motherfuck,” Mortician growled. “What the fuck happened to her?”

Before Christopher could turn to the monitor, the door blasted open and Megan ran in, screeching to a halt when she saw them.

Christopher stared at her, the tears streaking her face. The terror in her eyes. The motherfucking
bruise
on her cheek.

              All the boys were throwing questions at her, but she didn’t answer any of them. She just barreled into his arms and clung to him, trembling in his arms.

              “Megan, baby, what happened to you?” he asked after a few minutes of letting her cry and holding her in his arms.

              “N-nothing.”

              “Nothing? How the fuck you get a fuckin’ bruise then?”

              Silence. He narrowed his eyes, felt his blood pressure rise, because the thought rising in his fucking head was too motherfucking insane to entertain. No motherfucking way would that motherfucker...Trying to control his temper and feeling to his bones he knew what the fuck had happened, he stared at Johnnie and nodded.

              Johnnie scratched his jaw. “Er, Megs, sweetheart, does this nothing have a name?”

              Silence. Yeah, in-fucking-deed, that motherfucker had a name. If that motherfucker had followed Megan from here to Seattle then back to here, he didn’t only have a death wish, he had a wish to die slow, violent, and gruesome.

“Uh, Meggie,” Val said, “ain’t too many motherfuckers we know…excuse me
no
motherfuckers we know would fuck you up.”

Nothing.

Megan didn’t like to volunteer information, but she would give a motherfucking yes or no answer.

“It was fuckin’ Cee Cee, wasn’t it?” Christopher snarled, tightening his hold on her and resting his chin on the crown of her head.

She nodded.

Motherfuck him. “Where?” he roared, pulling away from her to tip her chin up and inspect her bruise.

“At the creek. H-he took my phone and threw it in the water.”

He tossed her phone in the water, huh? Christopher supposed a piece of Cee Cee would soon join the phone.

“What did he say to you, baby?”

Her lips trembled, her blue eyes filling with more tears. “That he wanted to f-f-fuck me,” she whispered. “I’d told him I’d rather die.” She let out a little hysterical sob. “He said he could oblige me with that, too. He wanted me to go away with him. He said I made you weak. I was your—the club’s—liability.”

“When did he hit you?”

“When he started reaching for me, I went the opposite direction. He got me, though, and hit me and—“

Christopher had to draw in a breath to keep all the images from his head. Images of Cee Cee raping Megan, strangling her, and then dumping her body in the creek.

“How the fuck you got away?” Digger asked.

“I jabbed my fingers in his eye and then kicked him in the groin and ran for my car. He almost got me though. If I would’ve stumbled—“ She shivered. “I barely had time to lock the door—“

How could he be a sane motherfucker when fuckheads would always go for Megan? Because that walking fucking dead man was fucking right.
She
was the first one motherfuckers would go for.

He flicked a thumb over her bruise and she flinched, her tears falling onto his hand and pissing him off like nothing else—besides Thomas Fucking Nicholls—ever had. If he had to have a body count stacks high, he fucking would. For every motherfucker who fucked with Megan, Christopher would fuck them up and wipe them off the face of the earth.

He’d already had more than enough hate filling him up towards Cee Cee. This shit just sealed it all up nice and tight. He bent and kissed her, relieved she didn’t pull away. In fact, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him back.

Christopher threaded his fingers through her hair. “I’m sorry, baby. For earlier. All the shit I said. And you was right to fuckin’ call me down. If you was some easy motherfucker where I could boss you the fuck around, I wouldn’t have a minute to spare for you. But you have your own mind and you ain’t afraid to let any of us know it. That impresses the fuck out of me, Megan. And, baby, I know you needed to get away from that motherfucker.” He let her go and paced in front of her. “But, fuck me, Megan. He coulda hurt you bad for fightin’ back, baby.”

“He would’ve hurt me if I hadn’t fought back, Christopher.” She sounded exhausted. “The creek was right there. He probably would’ve…once he finished with me—“ She shrugged and he knew her thoughts mirrored his.

He saw the horror in all their faces at the thought of Megan at the bottom of a fucking creek.

“I had to try,” she went on. “I had to get back to you and CJ. Momma and…and…Johnnie and Val and Digger and…and—“ She swiped at her tears. “And Mortician—“

“I know, baby. I know.” Christopher smiled at her. “And you got back to us, yeah? See? All our ugly fuckin’ faces right here—“ He drew in a deep breath. “I’m gonna have Stretch escort Dinah and our boy here. I don’t have all the security measures in place at the house for us to move there yet. Okay?”

She nodded, her lack of argument or disappointment pissing him off even more. He knew how bad she wanted to get the fuck out of the MC and live at their own house.

“Can you…I need a few minutes to pull myself together before I get CJ,” she admitted as if it shamed her. “Can you give me twenty minutes to take a shower and make the tears go away?”

She backed away and the look in her eyes…distant, faraway, like she’d floated away into her own world. He’d deal with whatever way she coped with this another time. If she needed to cut herself to take away her trauma, he’d let her.

Because he sure the fuck intended to murder to take away his anger.

Chapter 11

Lucas “Mortician” Banks looked at the mess he’d made and frowned at how gruesome things had gotten. But, hey, a bunch of stupid fucks roamed hereabouts and they had to get said fucks in line, especially when said fucks had information about the motherfucker named Cee Cee.

And if they didn’t fall into line and give up the info?

Mortician wrinkled his nose at the clean-up facing him, the result of a fuck
not
giving up the info. Needing air for a moment, he removed his gloves and apron and left the gore behind.

It had been two weeks since things had gone down the shitter. Two weeks since Outlaw had lost his mind in the tattoo parlor. Two weeks since they’d almost lost Meggie. Two fucking weeks. Outlaw’s refusal to have their church wedding was even more adamant now, which made Meggie even more miserable. And because Meggie was miserable, Outlaw had turned into a fucking beast.
To everyone
.

As a result, stupid fucks ended up like the corpse in the meat shack. Mortician adjusted his cut and dug out his cigarettes.

Bitches like Meggie was the primary reason he never intended to tie himself down. He struck the match, lit his cigarette, then flicked his wrist to get rid of the flame. He liked Meggie, too. He also tried his best not to eyeball Prez’s old lady and he’d just bleached the fuck out of his brain to remove the memory of a naked Meggie. Remembering shit like that or admitting that he’d gotten a couple boners over her was the quickest way to get his dick fed to him for breakfast. He understood Outlaw’s dilemma. Meggie was the sweetest little thing they’d ever met and
that
was the problem. Sweetness like that reached out and touched hard motherfuckers and drove them crazy. They couldn’t see the light of day for sweet bitches.

Mortician doubted Meggie acted the way she did on purpose. She just demanded the things all good girls demanded. Like their weddings blessed and sanctioned by churches. That was cool, unless a good girl hooked herself to the ultimate bad boy.

And Outlaw won the prize for bad boys.

Usually, Prez and Meggie found a way to compromise. Not this time. Not with all this peripheral bullshit going on. Fuck it. It was what it was. Prez had to accept her just as she had to accept Prez. One of them had to give in and Mortician doubted it would be Meggie this time around. He loved the fuck out of Outlaw but, sometimes…all Mortician was saying was the dude had tied himself to Meggie, so he needed to get his head out his ass and realize the girl loved him even with all his faults. She believed him worthy enough to vow herself to him in front of God and man. Didn’t much matter Outlaw wasn’t spiritual and didn’t believe anymore in that stuff.
Meggie
did and that’s what counted.

She was the type of chick who grabbed hold of a problem and decided on a plan to fix it, never losing faith it would be rectified.

Instead of standing around in the cold, he walked along the pathway to take a peep at Meggie’s house. Yeah, the shit was Outlaw’s, too, but, he’d built it for his girl. Now, they’d move in soon and Mortician wondered what other changes would happen after Outlaw moved out of the club. The house was a five minute walk, but Prez still wouldn’t live at the club anymore. What the fuck did that mean for the rest of them?

The dogs were trained. They’d started with them as puppies and Outlaw even had clothes with Meggie’s and Little Man’s scents, so they’d know they were supposed to protect them and not chew them the fuck up.

John Boy had suggested they let Meggie interact with the dogs as they grew up, but Outlaw had immediately vetoed the idea, pointing out his wife would coddle the animals. Not that the dogs were mistreated, but they needed a firmer hand to follow commands and protect rather than roll over to have their fucking bellies rubbed.

Taking one last drag on his smoke, he threw it onto the ground, then crushed it beneath his boot. Noticing the bloody footprint he’d made, he glowered and lifted his leg to inspect his boot sole closer. Motherfucker. He’d just paid a mint for these cold ass boots and they were already spattered with other people’s DNA.

Ain’t this a bitch
?

Frustrated, he headed toward the clubhouse instead of back to the meat shack to change his boots. He had some dirty ass work to get through and he didn’t want to ruin his boots any more than they already were. He noticed a bunch of cars in the parking lot and saw Stretch and Bin on gate duty. He waved at Stretch, the club secretary, and gave Bin a two-finger salute when he wanted to give him a fuck you. But one of the club’s lifers, Traveler, had brought Bin in. Traveler was in good standing, so they trusted him not to bring any riff raff into the club.