Misled (14 page)

“Megan,” Christopher crooned.

She drew in a deep breath and he allowed her a moment to compose herself.

“This was his life, Christopher. Whether I like it or not.
I’d never betray him.”

He nodded and smiled at her. A small smile ghosted across her lips.

“Where have you been livin’ since you ran away? Before I took you back to the clubhouse.”

“By the creek
.”

“In other word
s, you fuckin’ homeless.” Something he already knew.

“You can say that,” she mumbled.

Fuck. Whether he liked it or not, he’d acquired a very beautiful, very sumptuous, eighteen-year-old to look after.

Christopher “Outlaw” Caldwell was the most ornery, insufferable man Meggie had
ever
met. Any minute she expected some law enforcement agency to storm the Death Dwellers’ compound to arrest Christopher for intimidation and intent to do bodily harm to someone. Namely, his physician. He’d left the man no choice but to release him. Or else. Meggie didn’t like the ominous tone of the ‘or else’ and neither had the doctor. Five days after he’d awakened and an hour after issuing the ultimatum, Christopher was on his way back to the clubhouse, refusing to let Meggie drive his suped up pickup, even though she’d driven him to the hospital in it.

He’d stopped at a drugstore
and loaded up on magazines, novels, and puzzle books. Meggie wasn’t sure what they’d been for. However, the moment they arrived at the club, he’d grabbed the bag, ushered her out of the truck, then dragged her to his room. Once there, he’d shoved everything at her, told her “stay put”, and disappeared.

She liked crossword
s and magazines but not enough of them existed in the world to take her thoughts off Christopher’s sculpted body or the need to have him touching her.

She hadn’t seen him since and it was early evening. She liked reading and she liked crossword puzzles, but she didn’t like to have that as her
only
entertainment. Besides, her concern for Christopher made everything else insignificant. She knew he had club business—whatever that meant—but he was still recovering from gunshots and blood loss.

All outward signs of the rampage were gone. The bullet holes had been filled in and the furniture replaced. In Meggie’s opinion, the new desk in Christopher’s bedroom looked much better than the old one.

She stretched out on the bed, staring at the ceiling, bored out of her head, afraid to remain too sedentary, fearing her thoughts would overwhelm her. He’d said to stay put, but there were other things to do in his room than read or figure out crosswords. He had a bathroom. She could shower. She lifted her head, gazed around. His room wasn’t filthy but it could be tidied up. She could do that, then shower. If he still hadn’t returned, she’d find him and demand he rest.

Christopher leaned
against the counter, studying the wall of monitors, ignoring the throbbing pain in his shoulder and thigh. No motherfucking way Snake could’ve gotten on the grounds without being let in. The monitors were in perfect working order. He had grade-fucking-A visuals of the hallways, the perimeter outside, the board room, and his main supply room. Sinner had been on monitor duty a week ago. If he’d let Snake in, he’d paid for it with a bullet to the head.

But Sinner had always had his bac
k, even when Boss was alive. On the other hand, Sinner had been Snake’s friend, too. But he was dead, so he no longer presented a problem. Rack was the VP now and Christopher knew he was grieving and also displeased he hadn’t been chosen as the new president, but he’d sworn he’d do whatever needed doing for the good of the club. Val patched in the same time as Christopher. What Christopher did, Val followed. He’d wanted Boss gone the moment they realized what he was up to. And Val fucking hated Snake. What did he have to gain by betraying him? Tex, the treasurer, and Guardian, the sergeant-at-arms, Mortician and Digger, his lieutenants…fuck, who cared?

Out of his officers—Sinner,
Mortician, Digger, Val, Rack, Tex, and Guardian—only Mortician, Digger, Rack and Val were still alive. Val had been off premises, making a run on behalf of the club. And Rack? Fucking Rack…

Shit. The entire infrastructure of
his club was fucked up the ass, already in disarray before the shooting. Now…fuck. He needed to go into the rank and file, elect new officers, straighten this shit out. He needed to find the weak link. What the fuck was he missing?

All roads pointed to Rack, but those roads were too straight, to
o cleanly routed. Rack would have to be a stupid motherfucker to leave so much evidence if he were guilty. That left his boy, Val.

Christopher stiffened with tension. A chair scraped across the floor and he glanced in the direction. “You! Probate,” he called, not bothering to figure out the fuck’s name
until he became a full-fledged member.

The dude jogged the short distance between the tables and the bar. “Prez?”

“Keep an eye on these screens. If a motherfucker ain’t a member, turn him the fuck away. If I find someone who ain’t supposed to be here…” He let the threat hang in the air and turned away.

“Um, Outlaw?”

He hadn’t gotten two fucking feet before the dude called him back. “What?”

“That girl? Should she be here?”

Christopher didn’t need to look at the screen to know what girl he was speaking off. Only one girl never,
ever
fucking listened to him. The blonde one with the gorgeous face and perfect little body. The bitch who was walking into the room, her hair damp, wearing the old fucking clothes good for only a garbage pile.

“What are you doin’
out here?” he asked at the same time she demanded, “Where have you been all day?”

“Around,” he snapped. “Which ain’tcha fuckin’ business.” He jerked her behind him
and pulled her down the hall. “I told you to fuckin’ stay in my goddamn room and I meant it.” He reached the room and pushed her into it.

S
queaking, she stumbled back, flailing her arms to keep her balance. She righted herself at the last minute and opened her mouth. He held up a hand to shut her up.

“Don’t push your fuckin’
luck, Megan. You lucky you here with me instead of on the fuckin’ streets. If you don’t listen to me, I’m puttin’ you the fuck out and lettin’ you fend for yourself.”

Accusation turned to hurt. Her chin wobbled and her eyes filled with tears. With a frustrated curse, Christopher slammed the door shut and stalked t
o his office, his cock sending signals to his brain. His emotions toward her were going in a completely different direction. He wanted to fuck her as much as he wanted to kill her.

A
fter three in the morning, Christopher staggered back, nicely medicated with rum and beer. Both lamps and the bathroom light brightened his room. He stared sourly at the lump in his bed. He couldn’t see much of anything besides her blonde hair. He drank from the bottle of rum he was determined to finish, cursing her and the lights as he walked around turning each one off before undressing and climbing into bed.

She tensed. She was awake, was she? Let her fucking sulk. He laid on his back and stared at the ceiling. She inched closer to the wall, the movement so minute he wanted to howl in laughter. Did she really believe a fucking wall would protect her if he wanted some ass from her?

Christopher turned toward her, simultaneously scooting closer and pulling her into his arms. She wore something big. Something belonging to him from the feel of it. He pressed his erection into her back and buried his nose in the soft golden cloud of her hair.

His hand travelled along the indentation of her small waist to the flare of her slim hip. A tremble passed through her. He nuzzled the tender skin on her neck and she drew in a sharp breath.

He guided her onto her back and met her mouth with his own. At first, she lay in his arms as straight and as unresponsive as a two by four. He coaxed her lips apart and slipped his tongue into her mouth, groaning at the sweetness of her. He plundered her mouth, took what she offered and also what he wanted, his tongue dancing with hers, sliding his body onto hers.

She pulled her mouth away, breathing like she’d run in a marathon. “Wh-what are you doing?”

Christopher leaned back and shoved his t-shirt over her waist. “Fuckin’ you. What you’ve wanted all along. My dick in you.”

She gasped and tried to wiggle away.
“Not that way. You’re being crude.”

He thrust his face into hers and glared at her. “That’s me, babe. Ru
de and crude. What the fuck you talkin’ ‘bout any-fuckin-way, Megan? Far as I know ain’t no other way to fuck you without my dick involved. Only thing missin’ is your mouth, ass, or pussy.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re a goddamn fuckin’ nuisance. I need to find somethin’ to do with you. Fuckin’ is as good as anythin’.”

“No, please,” she started.

“You’re in my fuckin’ bed.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to have sex with you!”

“Ain’t said shit about havin’ sex with you. I said I’m gonna
fuck
you. Say it. Say Outlaw wants to fuck me.”

Her lips tightened. “No.”

Her primness amused the shit out of him and he barked a laugh. Why was she there? Why was he allowing her to stay there? Was him caring for her atonement for killing her bastard father? Maybe. But that wasn’t the full reason. She wasn’t no viable asset to him, yet he allowed her to stay. He knew why. His attraction for her was unreasonable and dangerous, partly because she was Boss’s daughter and partly because he couldn’t afford—and didn’t want—emotional ties to a woman. He couldn’t deny the pull to Megan Foy went beyond sexual. That didn’t mean he didn’t want her to give him her cherry.

Loosening his hold on her, h
e sighed. Deeply. And turned over, reaching for his bottle to take another swig. He decided to fuck with her. Since his conscience was interfering with the business of his dick, he needed some entertainment. He took another swallow and sidled a glance at her.

“Lemme get this fuckin’ straight. If I said I wanted to have sex with you…” He paused to chuckle because the words ‘have sex’ comi
ng from his lips sounded fucking funny. He cleared his throat. “If I said I wanna have sex with you, you woulda given me some pussy?”

Her eyes shot daggers at him, but her cheeks turned cherry red. He took
another swig then set the bottle aside. He pulled her against him and settled a hand on her breast, pinching her nipple and beading it. She pushed at his hand.

He nuzzled her neck and sucked on the tender skin there. “That’s it, huh? Okay, baby. Let’s have sex.”

“Make love,” she corrected in a small voice.

He stopped and raised his head. Unreasonable anger tore into him. T
his was the twenty-first fucking century. Bitches, even young bitches, couldn’t be stupid enough to believe in all that romance bullshit? Even Cinda-fucking-rella, here. She couldn’t be
that
innocent not to recognize a man like him didn’t “make love”.

“You wanna make love?” he sneered.

Not innocent. Fucking moronic because she nodded and added, “with you.”

H
er fingers slipped through his hair and her touch jolted through him. He hissed in air, another entity he couldn’t name entering the battle between his dick and his conscience. She licked her lips and he groaned, bending his head to slant his mouth over hers. He delved into her hot recesses and brushed his fingers through her pussy curls. Her legs parted, allowing him to thumb her clit, tease her slick slit.

He nipped her earlobe. “I ain’t makin’ love to you or no bitch, Megan,” he breathed, inserting a finger into her tight pussy but going only so far. “You
want me? Then we fuckin’. I’m gonna eat your pussy until you come. Get you nice and wet.” He tore open her shirt and licked her nipple. “Then I’m gonna bury my dick in you. No condom. No nothin’. Ain’t never had a virgin before. Ain’t gonna ruin it with no cum catcher.” She let out a sob but rolled her hips against his thumb and finger. He kissed her belly and continued to manipulate her. “When I come, I’m gonna fill your pussy up.” Jesus. God. The thought had him rock hard and his balls were aching. He nosed her pussy, slid his tongue along her seam. “I put my kid in you—“ He lapped her, digging his fingers into her hips. God, she was fucking delicious, sweet and musky. Her juices, a fountain of desire, was warm and wet, a temptation greater than Christopher had ever known. Her breath hitched and he tongued her faster. She grinded against his mouth, pulling at his hair, her legs trembling, her body jerking against him as she came hard.

He dragged himself up her body and kissed her again, driving his tongue into her mouth. Wrapping her in his ar
ms, he rolled them until he lay on his back and she rested on top of him, her hair a golden curtain around them.

“You like the taste of your pussy on my mouth?” he asked when he pulled his mouth away from hers. She didn’t answer and he drew her lips to his again, giving her another deep kiss. “Do you?” he growled.