Page 216 of Restless
“Those circumstances don’t apply to me!”
“Why?” Rack persisted. “Tell me why, then look me in the fucking eye and swear you’re not afraid to cross Cee Cee.”
“Didn’t you? You were a Scorpion. An officer. Now, you’re a Dweller. You’re still breathing.”
“Logan paid my bounty.”
“Dad was going to pay Fred’s.”
“Fred Sterling thought he could play both ends to the middle. He listened to Pattie because she has good pussy, then decided to tell Cee Cee about Logan’s latest abuse of Christopher.”
“It was a reasonable story.”
“Told to an unreasonable lunatic about a man filled with irrational hatred. Had it been anyone other than Cee Cee, he might’ve bought Fred saying this was the first time he’d witnessed Logan hitting Christopher.”
“We can argue all evening, Rack. You and Fred betrayed Cee Cee. Fred’s been dead for four fucking years. You aren’t. I can survive if I get on his bad side.”
Dad had spies in the club; Joey was certain Cee Cee wasn’t as vested in the Dwellers as he once was. Logan wanted Johnnie to run the Dwellers one day. Big Joe was determined to see Christopher do it. Rack wished it to be Joey; so did Joey.
But they’d take it one step at a time. First, they’d run Christopher off. Johnnie would have to die. Joey hadsomerespect for his father’s happiness. Losing asshole to death would destroy Big Joe. He liked Johnnie; he loved Christopher. However, Johnnie was by far the greater threat. With Christopher run out of Hortensia, Logan would push Big Joe to take Johnnie under his wing and teach him how to lead the Dwellers, once again sidelining Joey for a job he believed his.
“What are you about, kid?”
Krag’s question drew Joey’s attention to the bar. Christopher stood in the archway, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. At sixteen, he was tall and gangly. Joeyhatedthe motherfucker, from the top of his ink black hair to the bottom of his booted feet. He despised his easy smile and sharp wit. He abhorred how all the girls flocked to him and most of the men favored him.
“Headin’ to the cave,” Christopher answered, loping toward the door.
“Go,” Rack whispered. “He has to pass near the meatshack. Be ready.” He rushed forward. “Christopher, come here.”
He kept walking. “Fuck off.”
“You impertinent little motherfucker. Boss and K-P not here and won’t be for a fucking week. I’m in charge for the time being. Now, come the fuck here, twat face.”
Christopher halted in front of the door.
For a moment, Joey wondered if he had the balls to leave anyway and suffer the consequences. But he huffed, spun around, and stomped to where Rack stood at the bar.
Joey rushed into the cold afternoon and hustled to the meatshack. Excitement made him so clumsy, he almost couldn’t remove the padlock from the small, miserable shed that featured a lone window, little ventilation, and minimal light.
He threw the door open. A sickly-sweet smell of rotting meat and decaying flesh permeated the air. Joey swallowed the vomit rising in the back of his throat, controlling his need to gag just in time.
Christopher was heading down the pathway toward the edge of the property where civilization ended, and the forest began. Joey slipped on the far side of the shed, hardly able to contain his happy laughter.
Once Christopher left, Joey would be there to ease his father’s disappointment. One thing Big Joe hated was cowardice. After Christopher pissed himself, screamed, and begged for rescue, Joey would finish the dismemberment. When Big Joe discovered how brave Joey was, he’d remember he didn’t need Christopher as a son since he had one of his own. Dad would even overlook Joey killing a probate for the experiment, then locking Christopher in with the body, if he ever found out.
He would—
Where the fuck was Christopher? Five minutes had gone by, if not longer. Had Joey been so lost—
A punch to the side of the face knocked Joey off his feet. Before he could scramble away, Christopher grabbed Joey’s collar and dragged him up.
“What the fuck you’re doin’, slitherin’ around like a regular snake motherfucker?”
Snake?
Keeping hold of his collar, Christopher punched Joey again. And again. Before he delivered a third hit, someone wrenched him away. In reflex, he released Joey, who crumpled to the ground.
Christopher yelped. “Rack, fuckhead!”
