Page 19 of Relentles
“Rory, help Potter, boy,” Christopher said gruffly. “If you not fuckin’ faintin’ at the sight of blood…” Then he should allow the lil’ motherfucker to jab it as deeply as possible into Johnnie’s shoulder and teach that motherfucker a lesson. “Then, maybe, you can fuckin’ practice…” Sighing, he squeezed the bridge of his nose. But if Johnnie was bringing Rory into the fucking meatshack, then Christopher had to get the situation in hand. “You turnin’ fifteen in a few months. Me and you talkin’, but you gotta follow my rules. Understand?”
Sitting straighter, Rory nodded.
“Rory’smyson, Christopher,” Johnnie slurred. The motherfucker’snormally tanned skin was pale. “If you want to teach anyone about the meatshack, why don’t you take CJ? But you’re raisin’ him to be a pussy, so you won’t!”
The horror in Rory’s eyes arrested Christopher’s anger. If not for his nephew, Johnnie would’ve been dead more than once this evening.
“My brother isn’t a pussy, fuck fingers,” Axel yelled, his face flushing in anger. “He’s just not ready. When he is, I hopeyou’rehis first victim. You made Mom cry!”
“Yeah, so if CJ don’t bring you into the meatshack, Ryder and me will,” Ransom said.
Puffing his chest out in pride, Christopher considered letting them off the hook. He couldn’t, though. They’d fucked up as much as Ryan, and he didn’t want to be accused of favoritism.
Of course, he might have to face Megan’s wrath. On the ride from the coffee shop, she’d told him another thing she’d never forgive him was killing one of their children. Besides cheating and raising his hand to her, but since he’d never do either of those things, she didn’t have to worry.
Howfuckinever, if their boys joined the club and they fucked up …well, fuck…he didn’t want to think about that scenario. He was certain it hadn’t all sank in for Megan, either.
He waited until Potter helped Johnnie to his feet, then placed an arm around his shoulder before guiding him to the hallway. Christopher nodded to Rory, who didn’t hesitate in running behind.
Cash stood again. “I say we take a vote, Outlaw. Those in favor of a lockdown here and those who want to return to their chapters and go on lockdown.”
Christopher walked back to the podium. “No vote needed,” he said. “If you want to return to your chapter, ride out. I expect immediate lockdown—”
“We brokered a peace deal with the Gnomes,” Wheeler said. He’d been in the club for eight years. He was a solid dude and an ace mechanic. “Can we find a way to do the same with the Scorpions?”
Bash was circling for a fucking reason. Most of what Christopher believed was pure speculation but he didn’t want to take a fucking chance. Yeah, his main concern was his girl. However, he had an allegiance to his brothers. He wanted to protect them and their families.
Fuck, he wasn’t going to argue with these motherfuckers. He’d already been away from Megan too long, and she stillwasn’t completely well. “I will explore our fuckin’ options,” he said. “Meetin’ fuckin’ adjourned.”
Before he banged the gavel, someone called, “no lockdown for us?”
“No lockdown,” Christopher agreed. “Howfuckinever, until I discover what Bash wants or a peace agreement is reached” —which wouldneverfucking happen— “out-of-town brothers return to your chapters. It’s the best fuckin’ way I can protect you or prevent a fuckin’ war.” If one of them were killed in Hortensia and the Dwellers retaliated, guns would blaze and blood would spill across the country.
He banged the gavel.
While the mass exodus occurred, he ordered the podium removed and his sons to find seats. Forty-five minutes later, Potter had rejoined them, Christopher had a smoke, a few hits of Aunt Mary from the bud Mort passed around, two beers, and the clubhouse was nearly empty.
His phone dinged. Expecting to see a message from Megan asking about their sons, Christopher frowned at the unfamiliar number.
“Tell Mom to hurry and call,” Axel said, moving restlessly on the seat. “Rescue us from you.”
“It ain’t your ma,” he said offhandedly as a picture of Jo in her incubator uploaded to his screen. He sucked in a breath, torn between joy and relief at seeing his daughter’s precious face and annoyance at who he suspected the sender might be.
Hey. Don’t be cross. With wifey home, I noticed you haven’t come as much. I wanted to keep you updated on Baby Jo.
Christopher drew in a breath. Another photo of her sleeping so peacefully, a small cap covering the patches of black hair, her skin abnormally flushed. He scratched his jaw.
How you got my number?
He paid attention to talking correctly as much as he could. Fuck texts. He couldn’t be bothered.
From Jo’s file.
He scowled.
“What’s wrong, Dad?” CJ asked with a grin. “Is Mom threatening you?”
“Fuckin’Torietextin’ me.” He threw his phone on the table. “Sendin’ me pictures of Jo. I want to be mad cuz she took it on herself and got my number from the file, but fuck. She sendin’ me Jo.”
