Misappropriate (27 page)

And with Megan pregnant. A-fucking-gain.

And with a motherfucking relative who also happened to be a motherfucking lunatic. What kind of shit was this? All in the Fucking Family? Keeping Up with the Fucking Killers? Last time, Snake, Megan’s fucking brother, had taken her.
This time
, it was Christopher’s fucking father. And he hated that motherfucker with a passion so purple it looked like that stupid fucking Barney that deserved to be fucked up just for being a pain in the fucking ass.

And if Christopher hated any-fucking-body more than he despised motherfucking Snake, that shit said a lot.

While Digger, Mortician and K-P saw to Val, and Johnnie looked at CJ, Christopher walked out of the church just in time to see Cee Cee and Megan zigzagging through the parking lot. The sun glinted off the piece in his old man’s hand and Christopher wondered where the fuck the Probates were. Why weren’t they taking fucking shots at this motherfucker?

Motherfuck him, he
knew
why. This parking lot was filled to fucking capacity with cars and not with just vehicles belonging to brothers and the old ladies, but fucking civilians. Out-of-towners who could…fuck it. They were protecting the integrity of the club.

He, on the other hand, didn’t give a fuck.

Cursing the fucking tuxedo and wondering why the fuck Megan didn’t have on her wedding gown, Christopher went in the opposite direction from where Cee Cee was bringing his girl. He was going to cut that motherfucker off head on. Behind him, a bike roared to life but he didn’t have time to stop and check out what was going on.

He reached Cee Cee’s bike and saw the man propelling Megan forward, using her body as a shield, his gaze swinging from left to right. Megan’s height left Cee Cee’s head fucking defenseless, which was perfect for Christopher.

He
hated
having to do this in front of Megan, but, fuck him…he had no choice.

Raising his nine, he fired, Cee Cee’s gaze falling on him just as the bullet crashed between his eyes. Feeling the sudden removal of the gun from her back, Megan began to turn.

“No, baby!” Christopher screamed, running toward her. “Don’t look.”

She froze. Before she could say or do anything, he was there, pulling her into his arms and clutching her to him, his heart beating as fiercely as hers. They clung to each other and he buried his nose in her hair. He pocketed his nine, lifted her up, then started walking the way he’d come. He hated how fucking quick and easy the kill had been. He’d wanted to drag it out and make it slow and painful. This was some anticlimactic fucking bullshit here, disappointing the fuck out of Christopher.

It was what the fuck it was.

Once he reached the church entrance, he saw the doors to the sanctuary were opened and Johnnie was standing at the front, holding CJ and addressing the crowd.

              Mortician and Digger met Christopher halfway to the utility closet that had been turned into a dressing room for Megan. He hadn’t wanted her to ruin her beautiful gown and he couldn’t be sure about the weather, so he’d suggested to Father Wilcunt he find a place for Megan to dress on the premises.

              The fat little fucker had given Megan a fucking utility closet.

              “Meggie all right?” Digger asked, staring between the two of them.

              “Yeah,” Christopher answered, kissing the top of her head.

              She looked up. “Val?” she whispered.

              “K-P took him to ER,” Mortician answered.

              Johnnie joined them just then, and the look of relief in his eyes when he saw Megan let Christopher know his cousin still carried feelings for her. He didn’t care. She was alive. That was the most important thing.

              “People are getting really restless, Christopher,” Johnnie said with meaning.

              Soon, motherfuckers were going to walk the fuck out and with a dead body in the parking lot coupled with the delayed ceremony…yeah, shit wouldn’t look good.

              “Megan, baby, I need you to go put your dress on.”

              She drew in a teary breath. “I need help with the buttons.”

              “Fine. I’ll send Dinah in.” He grabbed his boy and nosed his little neck, just then realizing he wore a cut. He turned him around and saw the inscription.

              “Th-that’s what h-held us up.” She hiccupped. “I wanted to surprise you with our cuts and I forgot them and Stretch took forever to get here and then Cee Cee—“

              Christopher hugged her again. “Shhh. It’s okay, Megan. You gotta keep it together for me, baby. Go put your pretty dress on while we get other things taken care of.” He guided her to the utility closet and realized how bloody she was. “Fuck.” He placed CJ in the baby thing. “Just hold it together, okay, Megan?”

              She nodded. “Okay,” she mumbled.

              Hating to leave her, he backed out and closed the door, hurrying back to where Johnnie and Mortician still stood.

              “Get Cee Cee in John Boy’s Navigator,” he ordered. “Make sure you don’t get fuckin’ bloody.”

              Johnnie scowled. “I don’t fucking have plastic in my SUV today, Christopher.”

              “Ain’t my fuckin’ fault,” Christopher snapped. “I told your ass always be fuckin’ prepared.”

              “Man—“

              “Shut the fuck up. Ain’t got time for this bullshit. Get that motherfucker outta sight, pick up the fuckin’ casins and get back in the church.”

              Digger led Dinah to him while Johnnie and Mortician walked outside. “Listen here, Dinah. I don’t want one fuckin’ question from you. Understand? Not a fuckin’ tear or squeal…
fuck all
,” he gritted in warning. “The blood you gonna see on Megan ain’t hers. That’s all the fuck you need to know. Get it the fuck off her. Get her the fuck in the dress and shut the fuck up about anythin’ else. Got me?”

              Eyes wide, she nodded. She had been looking halfway decent in her floor-length rose-colored dress, her face made up and hiding her wrinkles, her hair colored blonde. Now, she’d gone pale, her lips tightening into a thin line.

              “Now, go take care of my wife and don’t fuck up.”

She bustled away and Digger settled a hand on Christopher’s shoulder.

“Your girl fine, man.”

Christopher swallowed and nodded. “Thanks, brother.”

Digger dropped his hand. “Now what you need from me?”

Christopher heaved in a breath, his heart just settling back into his chest. Megan was fine. His boy was fine. The new baby inside her was fine. “I need you to do whatever the fuck Megan was making Val do with my boy. Then, after them fuckin’ pictures taken, I’m gonna duck out, so you fucks gonna have to keep Megan distracted while I keep my appointment with Cee Cee, the meat shack, and all our special tools.”

              Megan had had a point, insisting on the church ceremony, one Christopher couldn’t deny after they got through all the readings and Alleluias, and he was taking her little hand into his to guide her back to the altar.

              She looked like a princess in her pretty wedding dress with the long train behind her. She didn’t have the cut on and that was fine. This was her day and she’d have many opportunities to wear it. Right now, it made him proud as a motherfucker to stand next to her to pledge his life, heart and body to her in front of everybody.

              He’d written her a letter that he’d give her while they were on their honeymoon and hoped she understood what he was trying to say to her.

              Because, for once in his life, he’d gotten something right.

              “Christopher and Megan, have you come freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?”

              “Yes,” Christopher said without hesitation.

              “Yes,” Meggie echoed softly, trying her best to conquer her overwhelming emotion. After everything else that had happened today, she was getting her marriage to Christopher blessed. Not having her cut had held up the wedding, but, she didn’t want to wear it right now with her almost kidnapping—and probable murder—still so fresh in her mind. She’d reached the altar almost an hour late and with her son asleep and in her mother’s lap. Meggie wondered if Cee Cee hadn’t found her where he had, would he have walked into the sanctuary and shot up—

              “Answer the fuckin’ man, Megan,” Christopher whispered, nudging her elbow. “He just fuckin’ asked if we was gonna honor each other as man and wife for the rest of our lives.”

              Father Wilkins glared at Christopher and Meggie groaned, glad she’d opted
not
to have microphones attached to them, so everyone could hear the exchange of vows.

              “Yes, of course,” she said, sending Christopher an imploring gaze to behave.

              “Ain’t what the fuck you supposed to say, baby. It’s I do. Ain’t that right, Father Wilcu…”

              Megan gasped, knowing what he’d been about to say. Christopher tugged at his bow tie.

              “Right, Rev?” he said instead.

              Father Wilkins narrowed his eyes, his mouth thinning in disgust.

              “Twenty large,” Johnnie said with a cough.

              Clearing his throat, Father Wilkins turned to Meggie, his piggish nose and hanging cheeks red. “Mr. Caldwell is right, Megan.”

“Er, I do. I’ll honor him as my husband for the rest of my life.”

Christopher bent and kissed her. “Fuckin’ right.”

“NO kissing,” Father Wilkins snapped, knowing it was a losing battle to make Christopher stop using bad language.

“Don’t get jealous, Rev. Just because you have to beat—“

“Christopher!” Meggie and Johnnie chorused.

“Yo’, Prez, remember what I said?” Mortician offered. “Pussy lock out.”

Meggie cringed, deciding not to ask.

Johnnie shifted next to Christopher and cleared his throat. “Father Wilkins, er, can you get on with it? We can only behave for so long.”

“You mean act like civilized humans?” Zoann called, and Meggie realized the woman didn’t know about Val. “We’re already missing two of you, K-P and Val. At least these Cro-Magnons are still here.”

Meggie scowled at Zoann. “Shut it,” she snapped. She couldn’t blurt the reason for the men’s absences in front of…of
civilians
. They wouldn’t understand. And whether Zoann liked it or not, she wasn’t a civilian. She was as much a part of the biker lifestyle as Meggie. “Father Wilkins, please get on with it.”

The round, little man sniffed. “Will you accept children lovingly from God—“ His mouth pursed and he frowned at Meggie, not taking his gaze from her as he continued. “Will you bring them up accordingly to the law of Christ and
His
Church?”

Omigod, the priest did not just take a dig at Christopher. Yes. Yes, he had. But, hopefully—

“Listen up, fuckhead. I ain’t gonna fuck you up for that cuz I don’t want Megan’s day ruined. But keep your fuckin’ opinions to your fuckin’ self.”

So much for hoping Christopher hadn’t realized the potshot.

“Christopher, please,” Meggie implored, grabbing his hand and squeezing. “He didn’t say a word.”

“Didn’t fuckin’ have to. I saw that look and I heard where he put the emphasis. Does the motherfucker think I’m hidin’ a holy sanctuary somewhere? Where the fuck else would our kids worship but a place like this?”

“Oh for God’s sake!” Father Wilkins growled. “Mr. Caldwell—“

“Don’t,” Christopher warned. “Just do the Rite of Marriage. Don’t say nothin’ else cuz you just took His name in vain and that shit a sin, too.”

Father Wilkins gave him an under eyed look. “I’m actually impressed enough that you know that much to continue.” He gave Meggie another tight-lipped scowl and began. “Since it is your intention to enter into marriage, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and His Church.”

Christopher took her hand into his and smiled at her, his green eyes burning with passion. His black hair curled at his nape, pieces falling onto his forehead. Meggie knew she’d never see him in a tuxedo again, but would never forget this day when he’d worn one for her and looked like every woman’s dream.