Misappropriate (2 page)

“You forgiven this fucking time,” Mortician called. “Make a mistake like this again and we not responsible for where the fuck parts of you end up.”

Meggie poked Mortician in the back at the threat, though she knew the score. She sighed and thought of Christopher’s bachelor party. Men like the stranger would overrun the place and Christopher’s well-earned reputation as a bad-ass meant everything to him. At the thought, her defenses crumbled. Mortician was right. To her, Christopher was everything she could ever want--a wonderful father and a very dedicated husband. To everyone else…he was both feared and respected because of the way he carried himself and the way he handled things. She wouldn’t want him to lose face because she couldn’t allow him to enjoy his bachelor party without her around.

They turned back to her and she knew the man was gone. She heard the first stirrings of her son. On cue, her breasts opened like a faucet. “Fine,” she said before they started in on her again. “I’ll call Farrah and Lacey and go to Seattle.”

“Seattle?” they chorused, glancing between one another with consternation. She hadn’t seen her friends since forever, so, maybe, this would be a good time to visit. At least, they’d serve as a distraction about her husband’s bachelor party.

Digger recovered first. “Meggie girl, well, I guess that’ll be cool. We know you won’t change your mind and decide to come back during the party with you being so far away.”

“Seattle, huh, babe?” Val rubbed his jaw, his mouth downturned. “Just don’t call Prez every ten minutes, telling him you miss him. That’ll be just as bad as you being here.”

Meggie shook her head. “I won’t call him every ten minutes, but I
will
call him—“

“No, girl,” Mortician insisted. “No calls at all ‘til the next day. If he hears your voice, he won’t have fun.”

“What planet have you three been living on?” Meggie bit out, tapping her foot in agitation. “I won’t like not being able to talk to Christopher at all after just deciding to fly out of town, but he
really
won’t like not hearing from me.”

Johnnie cleared his throat and pushed off the wall. He reached in his cut for a cigarette, his gaze falling on her swollen breasts. Meggie lowered her lashes and gritted her teeth, flushing to her toes at the lust in Johnnie’s eyes. He didn’t light his cigarette, just held it between his fingers and used it to emphasize his words.

“The woman sleeps next to him every night. She knows him better than we do. I say you three idiots listen to her.”

“You’ve known him all your life, John Boy,” Val said in defense of his argument.

“My point exactly,” Johnnie said. He pointed between the three of them. “And you fucks have known him ten, fifteen years.”

Meggie backed out of the doorway and a little farther into the room. “One call to let him know we’ve gotten there safely.”

“Meggie, c’mon,” Digger said with frustration, “that won’t fly. He’s not going to die without hearing from you for
one day
. And neither will you.”

She had no time for this. CJ was making his little baby babbles. “Fine.”

Not wanting to hear anymore, she turned, finished talking, needing to get to CJ so she could nurse him. Right before she closed the door, she heard Johnnie mutter, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you bozos.”

Christopher “Outlaw” Caldwell reared back in his chair in the office of his MC, checking the clock for the millionth time and wondering where the fuck Megan was. Swiveling the chair sideways, he sidled a glance out the big window. The last rays of the sun slipped through the canopy of trees, creating shadows and giving him a sense of the time, even if the fucking clock hadn’t been around.

He
knew
it was time for her to feed his son and she usually came and sat with him in the office during at least one of CJ’s feedings. Today, she’d been busy with shit to do with their house, so he kinda understood why she hadn’t come in earlier and shared a private lunch with him.
Kinda
. Now? Some-fucking-thing brewed.

Christopher shifted in his seat, his cock hardening as he fantasized about the milk beading on the tips of Megan’s red nipples. Fuck him, but CJ’s lease on Megan’s tits was set to expire soon. On the other hand, Christopher liked suckling her tits himself and, if he revoked his son’s privileges, Megan’s milk would dry up. He rolled his shoulders, glanced at the clock, glimpsed the baby thing Megan laid CJ in once he fell asleep, his gaze lingering on the couch where he fucked her once she saw to their son.

She’d been quiet and distant during lunch and just pushed around her food during dinner. Now, this. A no-show. He would’ve thought she’d be excited as a motherfucker to get her big ass church wedding she’d some-fucking-how talked him into. Yeah, he knew he’d have to do more than the City Hall shit, but she was making him and his boys wear fucking monkey suits and all. The very least she could do was keep him calm with her tits and pussy.

Grabbing his bottle of tequila, he rose to his feet, and stomped out of the office. The moment he opened the door, the noise hit him full force. A lot of motherfuckers were on premises for the bachelor party his boys were giving him the next night. Motherfuckers he hadn’t seen in months—and Megan never met—was here.

Christopher swigged his drink and scowled as he drew closer to the opening of the main room. Noise already pounded in the place, the bright lights glinting off the huge mural of the Grim Reaper slapping motherfuckers in the face the moment they stepped inside and looked left.

Cigarette smoke clouded the air, the scent of alcohol, sex, sweat, perfume, cologne—just a fucked up brew of smells—swirled in Christopher’s head. He thrust his hands through his hair, frustrated like a motherfucker. He knew Megan was tired of living here, even though this place meant a lot to him. At one time, it had been
everything
. Not now.

Another swig and a pulsing need for a smoke. Megan had taken center stage in his heart, became the air he needed to breathe and…Fuck him. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

And pussy-whipped the fuck out of him. End of fucking story.

Christopher really couldn’t figure out what the fuck had crawled up her ass and why she’d been so distant with him for hours now. Had she gotten tired of his lifestyle and made a decision to leave? He was building a big ass house for her when he was quite content to live right the fuck where he was. He’d agreed to a big ass wedding when he was content as a motherfucker with their civil ceremony.

Valentine’s Day was two days away and she’d planned some big ass dinner in their almost-fucking-finished house. A motherfucker that should’ve been finished fucking months ago.

Laughter drew him and he stepped closer to the entryway. He was always up for a good time—as long as Megan was with him. Call him an obsessed motherfucker, he didn’t give a good fuck. Where Megan was, was where he wanted to be. And he knew if he passed the main room on the way to his bedroom, some eagle-eyed motherfucker was going to spot him and then he’d have to socialize.

Another tequila taste and a few more curses fell from his mouth. Just as he was about to move, he saw Megan walking down the hall, his mini-me in her arms, his boy’s chubby little hands fisting Megan’s golden hair. Every time, Christopher saw his son, Christopher Joseph Foy Caldwell, aka CJ to him and Megan but Little Man to the boys, his heart did a strange little flip. What Megan held in her arms was the fucking best of him and he thanked the fuck out of his lucky stars every-fucking-day for Megan.

The moment she stepped in front of the mural, greetings rained her way. Christopher bit back a satisfied smile at the genuine affection for her that he detected from those who knew her.

“That’s Megan. Outlaw’s old lady,” Derby called. He was the president of one of the Dwellers’ local support clubs. Derby had visited with his old lady—and without.

Christopher grimaced and brushed the ‘without’ part aside. Usually when Derby went without his old lady, he went
with
Club Ass. Something Megan hated.

“I ain’t responsible for where a motherfucker puts his fuckin’ dick, Megan,” he’d snapped the first time she’d seen Derby go off to fuck a girl who wasn’t Gypsy, his old lady.

“I know Gypsy. How can I look at this woman and socialize with her, knowing her husband’s a pig?”

“Motherfucker
ain’t
her ‘husband’,” he’d snarled, “so he can put his dick in whatever cunt he want.”

Megan had punched his jaw. Actually. Fucking. Punched. His. Motherfucking. Jaw. He’d been madder than a motherfucker and stormed out. They’d just started fucking again after she’d healed from giving birth to his boy. And the reckless little bitch had shut him out of her pussy for two fucking days. She’d won that fucking argument hands down and Christopher had felt like cutting Derby’s dick off himself.

Now, when Derby visited, Christopher tried his fucking best to get Megan the fuck to their room
before
the man fucked over Gypsy.

“Megan, babe!” another male voice yelled, snapping Christopher back to reality, just as she floated towards him again. Instead of ratcheting back up after Derby’s and Megan’s brief exchange, the noise screeched to a halt. “Come keep us some company. You gonna be off the market soon, so take advantage of it now and have a little fun with me.”

              Motherfuck him, was some fuckhead hitting on his
wife
?

              “No, thank you,” she called back, glancing in Christopher’s direction. “I’m already off the market.” She started forward again.

              And, fuck, if that motherfucker didn’t start in on her again. “Just one little kiss.”

Who the fuck was that any-fucking-way? Not a motherfucker whose voice Christopher recognized.

              “All right, get the fuck out of here,” Johnnie snarled. “Fucking with Outlaw’s old lady is the quickest way to get yourself dead.”

              Christopher crooked his finger in Megan’s direction and, this time, she reached him. She beamed a smile at him and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his lips. “Hey, you,” she said.

              “Hey me?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Where the fuck you been? And who the fuck was that fuckhead harrassin’ you?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Then, again, there are a lot of guys here I’ve never met.”

No fucking shit, genius.
He scowled at her. “Wait in the office for me, baby.” He shoved his bottle of tequila into her hand. “Be right back.”

“Christopher!”

Ignoring her call, he went into the main room he’d wanted to avoid. He caught the attention of Bowlie, who was on monitor duty, and the man thrust his chin toward the door. No motherfucker needed to be asked who he was looking for, it seemed, because everyone was suddenly very interested in his movements and not too interested in talking to him.

Before Christopher reached the door, Johnnie appeared, massaging his knuckles.

Disappointment rose in Christopher. “Who the fuck was he?” he asked, cracking his own knuckles and flexing his fingers. His brain understood he wouldn’t get the chance to pummel the motherfucker. The rest of him hadn’t gotten the message yet.

“No clue,” Johnnie answered. “Said he’s from the East Coast. Never seen him in my life before earlier today.”

“Name?”

“Cee Cee.”

Christopher frowned. “What the fuck kinda name is that.”

“Fuck if I know. But the boys won’t let him back through the gates. Don’t worry.”

“Wait a fuckin’ minute. Some assfuck come in here. Know my girl’s name. Proposition her and all he get is a punch and a ‘he-ain’t-welcome-through-the-gates’ no-fuckin-more?” he barked. Megan’s strange behavior already had him on edge. Now, this bullshit sent his temper skyrocketing. “What kinda shit is that?”

              Digger stepped between him and Johnnie and patted his shoulder. “Yo’, Prez, you figured out if Megan’s driving herself to the airport or if you driving her there?”

              Christopher paused and turned his gaze to Digger. “What the fuck you say?”

              “Oh, um.” He glanced at Johnnie, then backed up. “My bad.”

              This day was going from bad to fucking worse. He yanked Digger to him, using his shirt and cut rather than his throat like he really wanted to. “What the fuck you talkin’ about?”

              Not surprising, Mortician came up to them. Christopher knew Mortician didn’t want to see his younger brother snapped in half, a distinct possibility if the motherfucker didn’t clarify his words.

              “Outlaw,” Mortician began in calm tones. “Wassup?”

              “This motherfucker askin’ me some shit about Megan goin’ to the fuckin’ airport.”

              Amusement danced in his cousin’s silver eyes and he scratched the five o’clock shadow on his jaw. “I guess Megs didn’t tell you, yet, then?”

              He shoved aside the apprehension prickling his skin. “Tell me what?” he asked. Though he spoke to Johnnie, he glared at Digger.
He
was the motherfucker who’d brought this shit up in the first fucking place.

              “That she leaving so you can enjoy your bachelor party,” Digger explained. He spoke low and slow, choosing his words with care.