Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books, page 288
“That’s because you have the maturity of—”
“My boy. Yeah, I fuckin’ know. You already fuckin’ said that.”
“Insults are the way some people show that they care.”
Jesus, Mary, and all that was holy. “Ken…cunt,” he corrected, “I insult you cuz, for one fuckin’ reason or another, you always thrown the fuck in my path and I gotta fuckin’ talk to you for one fuckin’ reason or another. I’d be the happiest motherfucker alive if I never had to talk to you, even to fuckin’ insult you. What the fuck ain’t you gettin’?”
“I get it!” she snarled. “I get that you’re mean and cruel and vindictive. I get that you can’t admit you think about me because it’ll upset Meggie.”
Christopher’s hands shook with the need to strangle her. She was fucking pushing it bringing Megan into this and for suggesting she took up even the smallest space in his head when he didn’t have to look at her miserable face.
“I just wanted you to like me. Everyone else does. I thought if Johnnie talked to Meggie and I talked to you, we could make some headway.”
Christopher scrubbed a hand over his face. Cautiously, he turned, careful to keep his gaze on her face. “Lemme ask you something.”
She sniffled. “What?”
“You still ain’t takin’ your medicine, yeah?”
“I don’t want to hurt my baby.”
“If I fuck you up, you ain’t only hurtin’ your baby, but your psycho ass too.”
“I’m sorry,” she wailed. “I didn’t know what to do.”
“Ain’t fuck all to do. You ain’t changin’ how I feel ‘bout you. If anything, you makin’ shit worse. Stop fuckin’ tryin’ cuz I swear you workin’ on my last fuckin’ nerve.”
She cried out again. “It hurts! It hurts! It hurts!”
“Digger!” Why the fuck wasn’t that motherfucker answering him? As loud as he shouted, he knew Digger heard him since the other room was right next door. He could be heard down the fucking street.
“Please, stay. You wouldn’t want Johnnie to leave Meggie.”
No, he wouldn’t, despite Johnnie and Megan’s past history, he’d expect Johnnie to be there for his girl.
“Can you prop me up with pillows?”
He sighed. “Do I gotta?”
Her lower lip trembled. “It’ll make me more comfortable.”
“That matter to me how?”
“The baby might come quicker.”
“And the ambulance might get here fuckin’ soon.”
“Oh my God! It hurts. There has to be a music channel on TV. Put on opera to make the delivery easier.”
Not on her fucking life would he hurt his ears with that shit.
Groaning, Kendall bore down, her face red, a sheen of sweat glistening on her skin.
“Do something!” she ordered.
Christopher lifted a brow. “I ain’t done this to you, so I got fuck all to do.”
Digger opened the door and stepped inside. “Is it over yet?”
“Get the fuck in here!” he yelled as Kendall screamed, “she’s coming!”
“Do I have to?” Digger asked, sounded as if he wanted to be anywhere else.
“Fuck yeah!”
Digger sighed. “S’okay, Prez, I got this. You go wait for the ambulance.”
“Thank fuck.”
Finally, a motherfucker who was on his side. Without waiting for Digger or Kendall to add fuck all, he stalked away. By the time he got back, he hoped that bitch had delivered so she’d shut the fuck up.
He might have to leave her ass in the hospital, but this trip was fucking over, even if he had to fucking risk getting a goddamn commercial flight.
Meggie barely ate and she barely slept, remembering the way Mortician had hovered over her and Cash barely let her out of his sight at yesterday’s Thanksgiving dinner.
If she knew nothing else, she knew Johnnie was lying to her about Christopher. They all were.
She’d suffered through another day of not hearing from her husband. Bunny had taken CJ, Rebel, and Rule to the club for the leftover dinner. Although Cash, Stretch, and Mortician had offered to carry her to the club, as Cash had done yesterday, she’d declined.
She wanted to be home in case Christopher returned.
Black Friday was a time Meggie usually enjoyed. When she’d first arrived in Hortensia and Christopher took her to the mall on this day, he’d made it an event for her. He’d given her money to purchase gifts for whoever she wanted. Afterwards, he’d taken her on a shopping spree. They’d eaten. Laughed. Talked. And just enjoyed themselves.
In the days that followed more heartache would come, but just for that day, they’d been happy.
Until eight days ago, Meggie had been happy. Not now, though. Maybe, never again. Her Christopher was missing and if he wasn’t found…the thought nauseated her and she released a small sob, moving restlessly on the bed in the bedroom she shared with her husband.
Every now and then, the patter of rain captured her attention away from the overwhelming loneliness of not having him with her. The tick-tock of a clock foretold the agonizing passage of time.
All normal sounds she usually didn’t notice. Because normally the sounds of Christopher and their children filled the hallways.
Bunny had offered to stay with Meggie, but she’d encouraged her friend to go with the kids and enjoy herself.
The solitude gave Meggie a chance to think about the choice she had to face—protecting Ryder or searching for her husband herself.
No one lived forever, but Christopher couldn’t have been taken from her now. They were supposed to grow old together. He needed to be around to turn into a scary biker when Rebel began dating.
Meggie needed to say that she loved him. Why hadn’t she told him the last time she’d talked to him? She’d been tired and missing him and horny from the phone sex. Her thought had been to call him back, then she’d changed her mind, taking for granted she could make it up to him when she saw him.
A knock came on her bedroom door and she swiped at her eyes. “Come in,” she called.
A moment passed before Johnnie walked in and didn’t stop until he stood at the foot of the bed.
“I’m headed to the cave to check something. Then I’m stopping at my house to get some clothes for me and Rory. Come with me.”
She forced a smile. “No, but thank you.”
“I’ll carry you.”
“No.”
He sat on the edge of the bed. “Megan—”
“I’m going to search for Christopher myself.”
Stiffening, he glared at her and balled his hands into fists. “The fuck you are.”
“It isn’t up to you, Johnnie,” she stated firmly. “It’s up to me. Christopher would leave no stone unturned for me. I can do no different. I can’t give up on him.”
“You already have if you’re acting like a stupid little bitch and going blindly to search for him when he isn’t missing. If he were, you aren’t fucking equipped to search for him. And you’re pregnant. You can’t be so selfish that you’d put your son at risk.”
“Christopher needs me. He needs us, but you’re not doing anything. I have to help him. Find him.”
“Don’t fucking question my motives for whatever sad little conspiracy theory you have running through your head.”
“It’s not a conspiracy theory. It’s facts, and what’s happened in the past few days. I don’t care what you say. Christopher’s in trouble.”
“Based on the fact that he’s missed a few days calling you? That’s an excellent reason for your conclusions,” he sneered. “You really don’t trust me anymore.”
“Trusting you has nothing to do with it,” she insisted honestly and grabbed his wrist, the first time she initiated a friendly touch toward him in months. “Please, Johnnie. Please. He’s my everything. He challenges me and makes me laugh and…and frustrates me so much I want to punch him. He makes my heart sing and my body hum. If I lost him, the light in my world would go out.”
“You’ve just written your own love sonnet,” he said harshly. “Nice words. Mushy, but nice. Excellent sentiment, but misplaced recital and overly dramatic.”
Meggie released her hold on Johnnie and she stared at him, this man who’d once been her friend. The one she might’ve fallen for completely if Christopher hadn’t been in the picture.
Johnnie was still handsome with those silver eyes and light blond hair. Tall. Well-built. But the essence of him, the charming side that had won her over, was long gone. Despite having and loving Kendall, he was bitter toward Meggie. Simply because she’d chosen Christopher.
“I love him, Johnnie,” she whispered, not wanting to irritate him further, just wanting him to understand.
“As if I don’t know. You two say it to one another every fucking day at least once.”
His cold words deflated her and she decided to end the conversation. She was getting nowhere with him. Instead, she reached for her cell phone where it lay on the nightstand and dialed Christopher’s number, hoping this time would produce different results and he’d answer.
But, no. It went straight to voicemail.
More tears streamed down her face and Johnnie jumped to his feet.
“I’ll be back,” he barked.
She didn’t respond and let him leave without another word.
Twenty minutes later, as she wrestled with deciding if she’d stay put or search for her husband, her cell phone rang. Unknown showed on her screen.
“Christopher?” she answered quickly.
“Mrs. Caldwell?”
She wasn’t familiar with the male voice. “Yes?”
“I have a delivery for you.”
“Okay, thanks. Please, leave it at the club. Someone will get it to me.” As usual.
He laughed nervously. “Yeah, there’s a party going on.”
“Yes, I know. It doesn’t matter. I’ll get the package. I promise.”
“I was told to deliver it directly to you.”
“Who’s it from?”
“A Christopher Caldwell.”
Perking up immediately, she gasped and shoved the covers aside, already scrambling out of bed. “I have to sign for it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Okay. I’ll buzz you in. Please, hurry.”
He sniggered. “I’m on my way.”
As Meggie put on the robe that matched her white, floor-length nightgown, she noticed her stomach seemed lower, as if Ryder had dropped closer to the birth canal and prepared for delivery.
“Eight weeks, baby boy,” she said, rubbing her stomach, hoping Ryder heard. “Then you’ll be thirty-seven weeks. Considered full term.”
Bypassing her slippers, she made her way down the stairs. It surprised her how much she suddenly missed Christopher’s insistence that he carry her to the first floor.
“I’ll never get annoyed again,” she promised into the silent house. “Just come back to me.”
Once she made it downstairs, she headed to the front door. Her phone hummed, indicating a visitor at the gate. Taking it out of her robe pocket and glancing at the screen, she saw a young man in a delivery uniform, holding a small box. She buzzed him in. When he approached the electric drawbridge to the moat, she pressed another button on her phone and hurried to the door.
Her fiberglass Pilgrims were replaced by a group of Christmas carolers. They were new. She’d wanted to capture Christopher’s reaction when he saw them. And she still would. As soon as Christopher got home.
The doorbell rang and Meggie opened the door.
“Where do I sign?” she started, impatient to get the package. It may contain clues to Christopher’s whereabouts.
The delivery man frowned. “You’re pregnant.”
“Um, yeah,” Meggie began, holding her hand out for the electronic clipboard. The one he should’ve had but didn’t.
“I didn’t know you were having a kid,” he mumbled.
Warning bells went off in her head and she backed away, attempting to slam the door closed. He was quicker and bigger. In a flash, he grabbed her hair and jerked her back, tripping her.
Hand over her mouth, he slammed the door shut. The more Meggie struggled, the more he tightened his grip. She elbowed him and, for a moment, he lost his hold on her. She darted toward the kitchen, headed for the back door. But the baby slowed her movements and he caught her.
Sliding a knife from the block on her counter, he held it to her throat.
“Keep still,” he warned. “Or I cut your fucking head off.”
“Where’s Christopher?” She was trying to stay calm, but fear trembled through her.
“Christopher?” he asked around a high-pitched laugh. “He’s dead.”
“No! That isn’t true.”
But wasn’t it? If he were alive, he would’ve contacted her. If he were alive…no, he had to be alive. He had to be. “I don’t believe you! Where’s my husband?”
Taking care to keep the knife at her throat, he handed her his cell phone
Not wasting time, Meggie tapped the phone and the body of a man came into focus. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Wearing a cut that proclaimed him the president of the Death Dwellers. Outlaw was embroidered on another patch.
Christopher.
He lay still and unmoving. Gunshot holes ruined the hood covering his head.
Meggie screamed. If the man hadn’t been holding her up, she would’ve fallen to the floor. Her life was all but over. Without Christopher not much mattered.
Your children do.
They did, but she’d never laugh again or smile or love without Christopher. She sobbed.
“Shut the fuck up,” the stranger snarled.
Suddenly, her situation came into sharp focus. The blade of a knife against her throat and Ryder inside of her. If she died, her son would perish, too.
“Do you know who I am?”
No, and it didn’t matter. If he thought she could identify him, he’d never let her live. “Where’s Christopher?” she asked instead, not caring how heartbroken she sounded. “Tell me, so I can bring him home. B-b-bury him properly.” She dissolved into more tears.
“Your fucking husband ruined our club with the lies he told. It was easy enough to get McCallister to lure him in. Poor, dead bastard.”
“Show me where my husband is!” she demanded.
“I’m here to send you to hell with him.”
Hearing he’d come to kill her gave Meggie a strange calmness. She didn’t want Ryder to die and she didn’t want to leave CJ, Rebel, and Rule. Still, she recoiled at how empty her life without Christopher was going to be. She was supposed to have an obligation to her children, put them before any and every one, so why did she want to give in to her desire to join her husband?
“Just give him back to me.”
“Which part of him?” he asked viciously. “His head? Or maybe his fingers? Hmm, his torso?”
“No! No! No!” she cried, her entire body shaking, her stomach turning at the thought of Christopher’s dismembered body. Her beautiful husband ruined in such a horrendous manner. Unable to stop the contents of her stomach from rising up, Meggie vomited all over herself and her captor.
“Disgusting bitch,” he yelled, shoving her away and sending her to her knees.
Instinct kicked in and Meggie scrambled to her feet, stumbling out of the way as he slashed the knife wildly.
The tip caught her shoulder and pain stung her. She had to get away before he seriously wounded her. Desperate, she grabbed a knife from the same block he’d used and struck out, flinching as the blade sank into flesh and he screamed.
The steak knife protruding from his chest horrified her. Not wasting any time, she turned and ran into the rainy night.
Stepping out of the club, Johnnie scowled at the rain pelting him. He ran to the pathway leading to their houses, annoyed he’d promised Megan that he’d return. Otherwise, he would’ve stayed at the club and drank his troubles away.
Instead, he was going to face the blue eyes that regarded him suspiciously because she knew Christopher so very well.
Very few things in life were guaranteed. Death. Taxes. Rain. Sunshine.
And Christopher keeping in touch with his wife. Megan knew she could count on a call from him when he was away at least once a day, as surely as she knew somewhere in the world the sun would shine.
Unless Christopher was dead.
Fuck. No. Christopher couldn’t be dead. What the fuck was Johnnie supposed to do without his brother? Worse, if he were gone, he’d died hating Johnnie.
The thought immobilized him and he halted, not caring he was getting soaked. Not caring about much except returning Christopher to them and getting Kendall safely back. Hugging her. Holding her. Loving her.
After he read her the fucking riot act for all she’d done.
Then, somehow, they’d find a way to move forward. Without Christopher.
Without Christopher. Who would’ve thought Johnnie would ever face this day? Christopher had always seemed so indestructible.
It was fucking ridiculous that a grown fucking man Johnnie’s age considered another motherfucker invincible. But to Johnnie, that was Christopher. The man had more lives than a fucking cat.
The cold rain fell harder and a chill traveled along Johnnie’s spine. Moving again, he hurried to Christopher’s and Megan’s house. It was a shining jewel. A huge brick and stucco Palladian boasting a moat and a drawbridge with an electric gate.
But that was Christopher. Over the top and larger-than-life. Had Johnnie ever told him how much he appreciated and admired him?
Punching in the code on the gate that led onto the property, Johnnie hurried up the walkway toward the drawbridge. Once the gate raised, he crossed the moat and approached the front door. As he drew closer, he realized the door gaped open.
Drawing his Glock as all other thoughts fell away, Johnnie hurried inside. “Megan?” he called, water dripping from him and onto the floor. “Megan?”
No answer.
His gut telling him he wasn’t alone, Johnnie hurried from the hallway and entered the den, training his weapon in all directions but finding no one. Running to the kitchen, he paused.
Puddles of blood trailed toward the mudroom.
“My boy. Yeah, I fuckin’ know. You already fuckin’ said that.”
“Insults are the way some people show that they care.”
Jesus, Mary, and all that was holy. “Ken…cunt,” he corrected, “I insult you cuz, for one fuckin’ reason or another, you always thrown the fuck in my path and I gotta fuckin’ talk to you for one fuckin’ reason or another. I’d be the happiest motherfucker alive if I never had to talk to you, even to fuckin’ insult you. What the fuck ain’t you gettin’?”
“I get it!” she snarled. “I get that you’re mean and cruel and vindictive. I get that you can’t admit you think about me because it’ll upset Meggie.”
Christopher’s hands shook with the need to strangle her. She was fucking pushing it bringing Megan into this and for suggesting she took up even the smallest space in his head when he didn’t have to look at her miserable face.
“I just wanted you to like me. Everyone else does. I thought if Johnnie talked to Meggie and I talked to you, we could make some headway.”
Christopher scrubbed a hand over his face. Cautiously, he turned, careful to keep his gaze on her face. “Lemme ask you something.”
She sniffled. “What?”
“You still ain’t takin’ your medicine, yeah?”
“I don’t want to hurt my baby.”
“If I fuck you up, you ain’t only hurtin’ your baby, but your psycho ass too.”
“I’m sorry,” she wailed. “I didn’t know what to do.”
“Ain’t fuck all to do. You ain’t changin’ how I feel ‘bout you. If anything, you makin’ shit worse. Stop fuckin’ tryin’ cuz I swear you workin’ on my last fuckin’ nerve.”
She cried out again. “It hurts! It hurts! It hurts!”
“Digger!” Why the fuck wasn’t that motherfucker answering him? As loud as he shouted, he knew Digger heard him since the other room was right next door. He could be heard down the fucking street.
“Please, stay. You wouldn’t want Johnnie to leave Meggie.”
No, he wouldn’t, despite Johnnie and Megan’s past history, he’d expect Johnnie to be there for his girl.
“Can you prop me up with pillows?”
He sighed. “Do I gotta?”
Her lower lip trembled. “It’ll make me more comfortable.”
“That matter to me how?”
“The baby might come quicker.”
“And the ambulance might get here fuckin’ soon.”
“Oh my God! It hurts. There has to be a music channel on TV. Put on opera to make the delivery easier.”
Not on her fucking life would he hurt his ears with that shit.
Groaning, Kendall bore down, her face red, a sheen of sweat glistening on her skin.
“Do something!” she ordered.
Christopher lifted a brow. “I ain’t done this to you, so I got fuck all to do.”
Digger opened the door and stepped inside. “Is it over yet?”
“Get the fuck in here!” he yelled as Kendall screamed, “she’s coming!”
“Do I have to?” Digger asked, sounded as if he wanted to be anywhere else.
“Fuck yeah!”
Digger sighed. “S’okay, Prez, I got this. You go wait for the ambulance.”
“Thank fuck.”
Finally, a motherfucker who was on his side. Without waiting for Digger or Kendall to add fuck all, he stalked away. By the time he got back, he hoped that bitch had delivered so she’d shut the fuck up.
He might have to leave her ass in the hospital, but this trip was fucking over, even if he had to fucking risk getting a goddamn commercial flight.
Meggie barely ate and she barely slept, remembering the way Mortician had hovered over her and Cash barely let her out of his sight at yesterday’s Thanksgiving dinner.
If she knew nothing else, she knew Johnnie was lying to her about Christopher. They all were.
She’d suffered through another day of not hearing from her husband. Bunny had taken CJ, Rebel, and Rule to the club for the leftover dinner. Although Cash, Stretch, and Mortician had offered to carry her to the club, as Cash had done yesterday, she’d declined.
She wanted to be home in case Christopher returned.
Black Friday was a time Meggie usually enjoyed. When she’d first arrived in Hortensia and Christopher took her to the mall on this day, he’d made it an event for her. He’d given her money to purchase gifts for whoever she wanted. Afterwards, he’d taken her on a shopping spree. They’d eaten. Laughed. Talked. And just enjoyed themselves.
In the days that followed more heartache would come, but just for that day, they’d been happy.
Until eight days ago, Meggie had been happy. Not now, though. Maybe, never again. Her Christopher was missing and if he wasn’t found…the thought nauseated her and she released a small sob, moving restlessly on the bed in the bedroom she shared with her husband.
Every now and then, the patter of rain captured her attention away from the overwhelming loneliness of not having him with her. The tick-tock of a clock foretold the agonizing passage of time.
All normal sounds she usually didn’t notice. Because normally the sounds of Christopher and their children filled the hallways.
Bunny had offered to stay with Meggie, but she’d encouraged her friend to go with the kids and enjoy herself.
The solitude gave Meggie a chance to think about the choice she had to face—protecting Ryder or searching for her husband herself.
No one lived forever, but Christopher couldn’t have been taken from her now. They were supposed to grow old together. He needed to be around to turn into a scary biker when Rebel began dating.
Meggie needed to say that she loved him. Why hadn’t she told him the last time she’d talked to him? She’d been tired and missing him and horny from the phone sex. Her thought had been to call him back, then she’d changed her mind, taking for granted she could make it up to him when she saw him.
A knock came on her bedroom door and she swiped at her eyes. “Come in,” she called.
A moment passed before Johnnie walked in and didn’t stop until he stood at the foot of the bed.
“I’m headed to the cave to check something. Then I’m stopping at my house to get some clothes for me and Rory. Come with me.”
She forced a smile. “No, but thank you.”
“I’ll carry you.”
“No.”
He sat on the edge of the bed. “Megan—”
“I’m going to search for Christopher myself.”
Stiffening, he glared at her and balled his hands into fists. “The fuck you are.”
“It isn’t up to you, Johnnie,” she stated firmly. “It’s up to me. Christopher would leave no stone unturned for me. I can do no different. I can’t give up on him.”
“You already have if you’re acting like a stupid little bitch and going blindly to search for him when he isn’t missing. If he were, you aren’t fucking equipped to search for him. And you’re pregnant. You can’t be so selfish that you’d put your son at risk.”
“Christopher needs me. He needs us, but you’re not doing anything. I have to help him. Find him.”
“Don’t fucking question my motives for whatever sad little conspiracy theory you have running through your head.”
“It’s not a conspiracy theory. It’s facts, and what’s happened in the past few days. I don’t care what you say. Christopher’s in trouble.”
“Based on the fact that he’s missed a few days calling you? That’s an excellent reason for your conclusions,” he sneered. “You really don’t trust me anymore.”
“Trusting you has nothing to do with it,” she insisted honestly and grabbed his wrist, the first time she initiated a friendly touch toward him in months. “Please, Johnnie. Please. He’s my everything. He challenges me and makes me laugh and…and frustrates me so much I want to punch him. He makes my heart sing and my body hum. If I lost him, the light in my world would go out.”
“You’ve just written your own love sonnet,” he said harshly. “Nice words. Mushy, but nice. Excellent sentiment, but misplaced recital and overly dramatic.”
Meggie released her hold on Johnnie and she stared at him, this man who’d once been her friend. The one she might’ve fallen for completely if Christopher hadn’t been in the picture.
Johnnie was still handsome with those silver eyes and light blond hair. Tall. Well-built. But the essence of him, the charming side that had won her over, was long gone. Despite having and loving Kendall, he was bitter toward Meggie. Simply because she’d chosen Christopher.
“I love him, Johnnie,” she whispered, not wanting to irritate him further, just wanting him to understand.
“As if I don’t know. You two say it to one another every fucking day at least once.”
His cold words deflated her and she decided to end the conversation. She was getting nowhere with him. Instead, she reached for her cell phone where it lay on the nightstand and dialed Christopher’s number, hoping this time would produce different results and he’d answer.
But, no. It went straight to voicemail.
More tears streamed down her face and Johnnie jumped to his feet.
“I’ll be back,” he barked.
She didn’t respond and let him leave without another word.
Twenty minutes later, as she wrestled with deciding if she’d stay put or search for her husband, her cell phone rang. Unknown showed on her screen.
“Christopher?” she answered quickly.
“Mrs. Caldwell?”
She wasn’t familiar with the male voice. “Yes?”
“I have a delivery for you.”
“Okay, thanks. Please, leave it at the club. Someone will get it to me.” As usual.
He laughed nervously. “Yeah, there’s a party going on.”
“Yes, I know. It doesn’t matter. I’ll get the package. I promise.”
“I was told to deliver it directly to you.”
“Who’s it from?”
“A Christopher Caldwell.”
Perking up immediately, she gasped and shoved the covers aside, already scrambling out of bed. “I have to sign for it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Okay. I’ll buzz you in. Please, hurry.”
He sniggered. “I’m on my way.”
As Meggie put on the robe that matched her white, floor-length nightgown, she noticed her stomach seemed lower, as if Ryder had dropped closer to the birth canal and prepared for delivery.
“Eight weeks, baby boy,” she said, rubbing her stomach, hoping Ryder heard. “Then you’ll be thirty-seven weeks. Considered full term.”
Bypassing her slippers, she made her way down the stairs. It surprised her how much she suddenly missed Christopher’s insistence that he carry her to the first floor.
“I’ll never get annoyed again,” she promised into the silent house. “Just come back to me.”
Once she made it downstairs, she headed to the front door. Her phone hummed, indicating a visitor at the gate. Taking it out of her robe pocket and glancing at the screen, she saw a young man in a delivery uniform, holding a small box. She buzzed him in. When he approached the electric drawbridge to the moat, she pressed another button on her phone and hurried to the door.
Her fiberglass Pilgrims were replaced by a group of Christmas carolers. They were new. She’d wanted to capture Christopher’s reaction when he saw them. And she still would. As soon as Christopher got home.
The doorbell rang and Meggie opened the door.
“Where do I sign?” she started, impatient to get the package. It may contain clues to Christopher’s whereabouts.
The delivery man frowned. “You’re pregnant.”
“Um, yeah,” Meggie began, holding her hand out for the electronic clipboard. The one he should’ve had but didn’t.
“I didn’t know you were having a kid,” he mumbled.
Warning bells went off in her head and she backed away, attempting to slam the door closed. He was quicker and bigger. In a flash, he grabbed her hair and jerked her back, tripping her.
Hand over her mouth, he slammed the door shut. The more Meggie struggled, the more he tightened his grip. She elbowed him and, for a moment, he lost his hold on her. She darted toward the kitchen, headed for the back door. But the baby slowed her movements and he caught her.
Sliding a knife from the block on her counter, he held it to her throat.
“Keep still,” he warned. “Or I cut your fucking head off.”
“Where’s Christopher?” She was trying to stay calm, but fear trembled through her.
“Christopher?” he asked around a high-pitched laugh. “He’s dead.”
“No! That isn’t true.”
But wasn’t it? If he were alive, he would’ve contacted her. If he were alive…no, he had to be alive. He had to be. “I don’t believe you! Where’s my husband?”
Taking care to keep the knife at her throat, he handed her his cell phone
Not wasting time, Meggie tapped the phone and the body of a man came into focus. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Wearing a cut that proclaimed him the president of the Death Dwellers. Outlaw was embroidered on another patch.
Christopher.
He lay still and unmoving. Gunshot holes ruined the hood covering his head.
Meggie screamed. If the man hadn’t been holding her up, she would’ve fallen to the floor. Her life was all but over. Without Christopher not much mattered.
Your children do.
They did, but she’d never laugh again or smile or love without Christopher. She sobbed.
“Shut the fuck up,” the stranger snarled.
Suddenly, her situation came into sharp focus. The blade of a knife against her throat and Ryder inside of her. If she died, her son would perish, too.
“Do you know who I am?”
No, and it didn’t matter. If he thought she could identify him, he’d never let her live. “Where’s Christopher?” she asked instead, not caring how heartbroken she sounded. “Tell me, so I can bring him home. B-b-bury him properly.” She dissolved into more tears.
“Your fucking husband ruined our club with the lies he told. It was easy enough to get McCallister to lure him in. Poor, dead bastard.”
“Show me where my husband is!” she demanded.
“I’m here to send you to hell with him.”
Hearing he’d come to kill her gave Meggie a strange calmness. She didn’t want Ryder to die and she didn’t want to leave CJ, Rebel, and Rule. Still, she recoiled at how empty her life without Christopher was going to be. She was supposed to have an obligation to her children, put them before any and every one, so why did she want to give in to her desire to join her husband?
“Just give him back to me.”
“Which part of him?” he asked viciously. “His head? Or maybe his fingers? Hmm, his torso?”
“No! No! No!” she cried, her entire body shaking, her stomach turning at the thought of Christopher’s dismembered body. Her beautiful husband ruined in such a horrendous manner. Unable to stop the contents of her stomach from rising up, Meggie vomited all over herself and her captor.
“Disgusting bitch,” he yelled, shoving her away and sending her to her knees.
Instinct kicked in and Meggie scrambled to her feet, stumbling out of the way as he slashed the knife wildly.
The tip caught her shoulder and pain stung her. She had to get away before he seriously wounded her. Desperate, she grabbed a knife from the same block he’d used and struck out, flinching as the blade sank into flesh and he screamed.
The steak knife protruding from his chest horrified her. Not wasting any time, she turned and ran into the rainy night.
Stepping out of the club, Johnnie scowled at the rain pelting him. He ran to the pathway leading to their houses, annoyed he’d promised Megan that he’d return. Otherwise, he would’ve stayed at the club and drank his troubles away.
Instead, he was going to face the blue eyes that regarded him suspiciously because she knew Christopher so very well.
Very few things in life were guaranteed. Death. Taxes. Rain. Sunshine.
And Christopher keeping in touch with his wife. Megan knew she could count on a call from him when he was away at least once a day, as surely as she knew somewhere in the world the sun would shine.
Unless Christopher was dead.
Fuck. No. Christopher couldn’t be dead. What the fuck was Johnnie supposed to do without his brother? Worse, if he were gone, he’d died hating Johnnie.
The thought immobilized him and he halted, not caring he was getting soaked. Not caring about much except returning Christopher to them and getting Kendall safely back. Hugging her. Holding her. Loving her.
After he read her the fucking riot act for all she’d done.
Then, somehow, they’d find a way to move forward. Without Christopher.
Without Christopher. Who would’ve thought Johnnie would ever face this day? Christopher had always seemed so indestructible.
It was fucking ridiculous that a grown fucking man Johnnie’s age considered another motherfucker invincible. But to Johnnie, that was Christopher. The man had more lives than a fucking cat.
The cold rain fell harder and a chill traveled along Johnnie’s spine. Moving again, he hurried to Christopher’s and Megan’s house. It was a shining jewel. A huge brick and stucco Palladian boasting a moat and a drawbridge with an electric gate.
But that was Christopher. Over the top and larger-than-life. Had Johnnie ever told him how much he appreciated and admired him?
Punching in the code on the gate that led onto the property, Johnnie hurried up the walkway toward the drawbridge. Once the gate raised, he crossed the moat and approached the front door. As he drew closer, he realized the door gaped open.
Drawing his Glock as all other thoughts fell away, Johnnie hurried inside. “Megan?” he called, water dripping from him and onto the floor. “Megan?”
No answer.
His gut telling him he wasn’t alone, Johnnie hurried from the hallway and entered the den, training his weapon in all directions but finding no one. Running to the kitchen, he paused.
Puddles of blood trailed toward the mudroom.
