Page 185 of Relentles
His words caught up to him a moment before her gaze flew to his, filled with so much pain he covered his face so he wouldn’t see.
“I’m going to throw-up,” Zoann cried, doubling over and bursting into gut-wrenching sobs.
Christopher reached for his sister, but she pulled away and ran from the room.
“Puff!” Val called, rushing behind her.
“Megan, I’d never hurt—”
“If they are a part of the club, you wouldn’t have a choice,” she sobbed. “But theyarea part. They’re all yours.”
“No, baby. No,” he whispered, going to her, lifting her into his arms and sitting in the seat.
She didn’t hesitate to curl on his lap and cry.
“Megan, baby, if you need a fuckin’ psycho camp, just tell me. All this shit swirlin’ in your fuckin’ head drivin’ you insane. I want you back with me and normal.”
“Outlaw, can we let Johnnie go?” Digger asked, as serious as Christopher had ever heard him.
“Do you still want the records?” Stretch asked.
The concern in his voice flirted on the edges of Christopher’s brain. It didn’t matter at the moment. He’d figure it all out later.
“Let him go, Digger.” He looked at Stretch and shook his head. “Hold off.”
“I’m leaving, Lucas.”
At the sound of Bailey’s voice, Mort glanced away and nodded.
Bunny glanced from Mort to Bailey’s retreating form to Digger. She looked on the verge of tears, too.
Digger reached for her, but she pushed him away and walked to where Christopher held Megan.
“Come on, Meggie,” she said gently. “Let’s go and pull you together.”
Usually, she stayed. Christopher wanted her to stay. But she left.
Chapter Twenty-Five – Diesel
Diesel Rivers, néCaldwell, saw her walking from the opposite end of the hallway the moment he turned the corner after reaching the second floor.
Rebel now occupied one of the rooms on this level because her old room on the third floor would be Jo’s nursery whenever she was released from the hospital.
His bedroom was at the opposite end of the hallway. Their proximity might still be too close. She waged a remorseless pursuit of him. Her underhanded tactics left him vulnerable to maiming and murder by Uncle Christopher.
Rebel could pass for eighteen or twenty. Her shenanigans endangered grown men. If Diesel didn’t know her age and met her at some random place, he’d end up dead or arrested.
Out of respect for little sisters with big brothers everywhere, he refused to fuck girls under twenty-five. He wouldn’t want anyone to use her, the way he used the biker girls.
Rebel was staring at him, already so gorgeous his chest hurt. How many more motherfuckers did he have to kill for discussing her with disrespect. It was three and counting.
She was his little sister, reckless enough to want to be a fucking special enforcer.
“Reb,” Diesel greeted, closing the distance between them.
“Hey,” she said softly.
Rebel’s golden hair fluttered around her, and her brilliant blue eyes assessed him from head to toe. She bore an uncanny resemblance to her mother.
