Page 29 of Relentles
“Yeah, Mort?” he said, furious and suspicious.
JohnnieknewBash.
“It’s the Christmas season, Outlaw,” Digger said. “Uh, M-Meggie…uh, you always put a moratorium on death during the holidays ‘cause, uh, M-Meggie—”
Christopher narrowed his eyes and remembered to remove the cigarette from the corner of his mouth, raining ashes everywhere. “Why the fuck you stutterin’ every time you say my woman’s name?”
“Huh?” Digger squeaked.
“You was fuckin’ with her some kind of way that night she called Mort.”
“I-I-I-I-I-I w-w-w-w-wasn’t—”
Stalking to where Digger sat, Christopher stood behind him. “What did Megan ever do to you, assfuck?”
“N-n-n-n-nothing, O-O-O-O-Outl-l-l-law.”
“She ever told your motherfuckin’ ass not to come over for dinner when your bitch tuturin’?”
Even if Digger hadn’t boomed, “What?”, the alarm on Mort’s face gave the shit away.
“Answer me, Digger,” Christopher demanded. “What’d she ever do to you?”
“N-n-n-n-n-othing.”
“Youever toldyourwoman you ain’t wantin’ her workin’ anywhere else other than with Megan?”
“Meggie jumped to the wrong conclusion, Outlaw!” Digger said, dropping his guard when Christopher touched the right nerve.
“She ain’t opened her fuckin’ mouth, motherfucker,” Christopher snarled, jamming his cigarette against Digger’s temple. “You fuckin’ did,” he said, ignoring his SAA’s screams. If he didn’t have to deal with Johnnie, he’d relight his cigarette and burn Digger with it again. “She hasn’t said one goddamn thing about why you beefing with her, although I know she fucking knows.”
“You don’t like Mom, Uncle Digger?” Rule asked in surprise.
“Sleep with your eyes open, fuck face,” Ryder warned. “Where Dad leaves off, we are more than happy to pick up.”
“I don’t have no problem with Meggie!” Digger yelled, close to tears, the side of his temple already blistering.
“You don’t like her? That’s your fuckin’ business, but you ain’t smilin’ in her fuckin’ facein front of my fuckin’ assand harrassin’ her or talkin’ about her when I ain’t around,”Christopher roared. “Hear me, motherfucker. You will fuckin’die.”
Before he shot the fuck out of Digger, he turned to Johnnie.
“Look at me, Johnnie,” Christopher demanded.
“Christopher, please…” Johnnie started.
“Shut the fuck up.”
He dug in his pocket and got the small blade he carried, then opened Johnnie’s cut wider and snatched the gauze away. Potter did an ace fucking job with the seven stiches, all neatly done in a row.
Meeting Johnnie’s gaze, Christopher slid the blade down the stitches, opening each one.
“Ahhh, fuck!” Johnnie cried.
“If you fuckin’ with Bash to fuck over Megan, I’m cuttin’ your fuckin’ head off, Johnnie,” Christopher vowed. “Leave her the fuck alone. This is your last fuckin’ warnin’ from a fuckin’ joke and an idiot.”
Snatching the bottle of rubbing alcohol, he emptied the liquid on Johnnie’s reopened wound, holding Johnnie captive with his eyes, unfazed by his shouts of pain and the tears streaking his face.
Done, he threw the bottle aside, wiped his bloody hands on his jeans and backed away.
