Misled (23 page)

She raised her chin. “For as long as he wants me, I’ll be at his side. Whatever he needs, I’ll be there for him.”

“Your family—“

“Christopher
is
my family,” she interrupted.

Her brown eyes never wavered from Meggie’s face. “He does things. He’s done things.” She huffed in a breath. “If they’re discovered, it will affect everyone.” Tears filled her eyes and she hugged herself. “You say he’s your family but this life isn’t for everyone. You have to be a strong man to face the decisions my son has faced and lived to tell. He’s happier than I’ve ever seen him. You’re good for him. Just promise
me, you’ll stand by his side no matter what.”

Though unsettled by Patricia’s fierceness, Megan nodded, sure in the knowledge she’d never turn her back on Christopher.

Patricia headed for the door. Hand on knob, she asked, “do you cook?”

Finally, a decent topic. “Yes.”

“Well, you’re on vacation.”

“I know,” she said timidly. “But I-I’d like to cook a meal for Christopher. And you, of course,” she added when Patricia bristled.

“My son is very particular about his food, Megan. About as particular as I am about my kitchen. I have your vow to stand by Christopher and you know where we stand with the cooking and my kitchen, dear. We’ll get along fine as long as you remember this discussion.”

Giving Meggie no chance to respond, Momzilla walked out of the room and closed the door quietly behind her.

Christopher watched his mom lead Meggie into the house, a breath away from choking the shit out of Johnnie. For no reason other than the fact Megan
liked
him, and his cousin was the type of college- educated, intelligent asshole Megan should have.

He turned to his bike to busy his hands with removing Megan’s backpack from one of the saddlebags. “How’s Iona?”

“Married and pregnant,” Johnnie answered on a sigh.

The news startled Christopher out of his jealousy. “Not to you or by you.”

“Nope. To some nerdy fuck.” Johnnie shrugged. “If that’s what she wants, I’m happy for her.”

His cousin had turned nomad three years ago to please his girlfriend, a beautiful, quiet girl who had turned Johnnie’s head the moment he’d met her.
She hadn’t wanted him in the club, so he’d limited his time there, backing away completely with Boss’s shenanigans. Though it worked out in the long run—Johnnie now managed the legitimate business they used to launder money—he still hadn’t gotten the girl he’d wanted.

He gripped the strap of the backpack and faced Johnnie. “Stay away from Megan.”

A slow grin spread across Johnnie’s features. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offered one to Christopher then lit both of them. “Aunt Patricia invited me over for dinner,” he explained on a whiff of smoke that the ocean breeze caught and carried away. “Since you were coming to town.”

“You and me, we always been close,” Christopher began, gesturing with the hand that held the cigarette between two fingers. “We gonna be cool as long as you don’t fuck with Megan.”

Unruffled, Johnnie clapped Christopher on the back. “Relax. Megs—“

“Don’t fuckin’ call her that!”

He laughed and Christopher knew Johnnie was yanking his chains.

“Come on,
asshole. Time to go inside,” Christopher ordered, not bothering to see if Johnnie followed.

When he walk
ed into the house, sunlight streamed in all directions from the numerous windows in the open floor plan.  The hardwood floors gleamed and everything smelled fresh and clean. Across the room, Christopher saw the dunes beyond the deck, the foamy Pacific crashing onto the sand.

If anyone, he had Boss to thank for this house. He’d gone along with Christopher’s idea to begin the hydrogrow operation.
Instead of moving herb, they grew it inside one of the warehouses on club property.  That first year had surpassed everyone’s expectations and Christopher immediately purchased the medical lab. He needed a legitimate front to make major purchases. Fucking cops might’ve looked the other fucking way thanks to payoffs, but the Feds wouldn’t be so easy. Boss hadn’t complained. He knew how much Christopher wanted a house of his own. He knew, too, that Christopher wouldn’t shirk his duties to the club or forget about the Dwellers’ collaborative interests and other businesses they worked at to “earn” money.

If it hadn’t been for Big Joe’s mentoring and his support behind Christopher…he didn’t finish and, instead, wanted to throw up. He rubbed a hand over his eyes.

“Outlaw,” Johnnie called. He held out a beer. “Go see about your woman. Aunt Patricia said she went to take a bath. Maybe, she needs her back scrubbed or something.”

Grabbing the beer, Christopher forced his t
houghts away and nodded, glad Meggie remained upstairs. He was pretty sure she needed
something
and that something was already rising in his pants.

Just as he started upstairs, his mother was starting down.

“Megan is getting settled, son,” she said briskly, pushing her sleeves above her elbows. “Give her a chance to do what girls do after they’ve ridden on the back of a bike for hours.”

Christopher gripped his beer tighter. “C’mon, Ma. Megan won’t mind if I’m in there.”

She squeezed past him. “Follow me. I need to talk to you.”

Speechless, he stared at his mother’s retreating back and emptied the bottle of beer in one, long swig. His very own mother was cock-blocking. Stomping through the great r
oom, past a very amused Johnnie—whom Christopher flipped off—he allowed his mother to lead him to the sun room. Enclosed in glass, the yellow and white décor reminded him of Patricia. He disposed of the bottle in the wicker trash can and stuffed his hands in his pockets, gazing at the three-tiered shelf of pictures. She had photos of her parents, the girls’ father, him and his sisters as well as Big Joe, Val, Mortician, and Digger. He’d need to add Megan’s photo to the collection. Speaking of Megan, she’d probably like this room, too. Beach grass broke out from the high rise of the dunes. On a quiet day, the roar of the ocean slipped through the glass, filling the room with the sounds of nature.

Shadows haunted his mother’s eyes. “Big Joe’s daughter.”

Those three words fell like stones between them and Christopher’s eyes widened. “Ma, what—“

“You killed him.
You killed her father.
How long do you think she’ll stick around when she discovers his blood on your hands?”

No. No.
NO!
Christopher wasn’t prepared for this. The anger and condemnation in his mother’s eyes almost killed him. This was why he’d stayed away. He hadn’t been able to face her, knowing what he’d done to Joseph Foy. In a life filled with hurting the people who meant the most to him just by being conceived, he hadn’t been able to face Patricia with Boss’s blood on his hands. He’d grieved for the man well before he’d had to make that fateful decision. Now, that grief came back, worse, almost bringing him to his knees. The pain of what had been was nothing compared to the pain of what could’ve been, what would never be because he’d killed Megan’s father.

He held out his hands. “It was me or him.” His throat worked and he willed his mother to believe him. He didn’t know how she’d found out. She didn’t
know anyone from the club, other than Boss, Val, Digger and Mortician. Christopher had moved her out of her small house in Hortensia to his house here to keep her safe when things had gotten bad with Boss and the rival clubs.

She came and squeezed her arms around him
, almost like she never wanted to let him go, and sobbed against his chest. Christopher just stood there, not returning her hug, staring straight ahead, until she settled down and got control of herself again.

She roamed away from him, faced the windows. “Megan’s young. She doesn’t know about your world. Boss’
s world.”

He hadn’t thought his mother knew about “his” world, either. Not as much as she sounded like she did.

“She’ll hate you,” she continued.

All the joy he’d felt this past week vanished. Even that shopping bullshit with Megan
felt good because of the smile it put on her face. She was happy so he was happy. Now, that was gone and he didn’t think he’d ever get it back again.

“I was told she went to the club searching for her father.”

Although that wasn’t a secret, whoever was passing information on to his mother had been fucking thorough. “Yeah. So what?”

“Her stepfather abuses her.
Basically, she’s homeless.”

Christopher drew in a sharp breath, his stupid dream of having Megan by his side in the
future already fucked. Fury settled into him and he was so fucking sorry he’d driven to this motherfucker he wanted to kick something. “She ain’t homeless,” he snapped. “She’s livin’ at the club with me.”

His mother faced him and drew herself up. “Do you think she’s with you because she wants to be with you?” she asked quietly, sniffling. “Or because she has nowhere else to go? Why would this young girl, with her entire life ahead of her, fall in love with a man who lives on the fringe elements of society, son?”

“What are you tryin’ to do here?” Christopher shouted, her words hitting him right in the fucking gut. All his life, he hadn’t believed he was worthy of anybody’s love. All his life, his mother had sworn he deserved love as much as anybody. Now that he’d gotten the closest he ever had to finding it, she pointed out what he’d known all along. “You ain’t got a fu…damn right to question her. Or me. We’re both adults, Ma. We do what the fuck we want. If she’s usin’ me cuz I ain’t worthy to love that’s my fuckin’ business if I want her to use me.” His lip curled in a sneer. “As if I give a fuck. I got more bitches than I know what to do with.” Turning, he stalked to the door and slammed it behind him. When he reached the great room, Johnnie had left.

He only hoped Meggie had remained upstairs while he and his mother had gotten into their argument.

Instead of the happy occasion Christopher imagined, tension hung over dinner, later that evening, preventing any conversation. He couldn’t take this fucking shit. Tomorrow couldn’t arrive soon enough. At sunrise, he was hitting the road, going back to the club. He wouldn’t even tell Megan—he didn’t owe her any explanation. His mother was right. Once she discovered the truth, she’d hate him.

However, a
s much as he wanted to ignore Megan, he couldn’t. Not when she was observing him through her lashes and sneaking glances at Johnnie. A muscle ticked in Christopher’s jaw and he felt as if he’d explode any moment. He’d stormed upstairs earlier and found Meggie asleep, so he’d taken a walk along the dunes, watching the ocean, wishing the water could cleanse the dirtiness of his life.

A spoon clanked and Christopher glared in his mother’s direction. She was usually so friendly and warm. Understandable, she wouldn’t be so lovi
ng toward him, the blight on everyone’s lives, but why not chat with Megan? Even Johnnie, always so ready with a joke, kept silent.

Heaving a sigh, looking as miserable as Christopher felt, Megan moved a piece of baked fish around her plate. She’d barely eaten anything. Concer
ned that maybe she’d heard something, he leaned over and tipped her chin up.

“I’ve never known you to be so quiet, babe. What’s runnin’ through your head?”

Megan faked a smile and stabbed a piece of fish then shoved it into her mouth. “Nothing.”