A Very Christopher Christmas (A Death Dwellers MC Novella) (16 page)

As much as he despised Kendall—as much as he fucking hated to admit—he understood that bitch, too. He understood she’d been through a fucking lot. He under-fucking-stood every motherfucker in her life had fucking deserted her or used the fuck out of her. Why the fuck wouldn’t she be a paranoid cunt and hold the fuck on to Johnnie with everything in her, when every-fucking-body else had just thrown her the fuck away? Yeah, she was throw-away-able. That’s why she wanted to be Megan. No one had ever loved her for being herself.
 

Christopher even fucking understood she had a goddamn illness. But that didn’t fucking take away the goddamn fact that she needed to calm the fuck down, and do what the fuck she was supposed to do to stop being such a fucking loony bitch.
 

Her current attitude made him fucking hate her even worse. True, that bitch needed to have fucking psycho drugs pumped into her ass through some kind of little device implanted the fuck in her arm.
 

Or her goddamn brain.
 

But she was one intelligent fucking bitch. Sarcastic as a motherfucker, but fucking sharp. She knew what the fuck she did to Johnnie. And Megan. Used the fuck out of their sympathy and understanding to play the fuck out of them.
 

It left Christopher just wanting to shake the fuck out of Kendall on behalf of Johnnie and wanting to choke the fuck out of her over Megan.
 

“Mr. Caldwell?” Doc Will’s nurse, Viola, called, standing in the doorway of the entrance to the hallway that led to the exam rooms.
 

“Yo.” He got to his feet and headed through the door, finding the décor arresting with artful photos of babies lining the dark yellow walls that was trimmed in cherry wood.
 

Instead of an exam room, Viola led him to the OB’s office. Her wooden desk had her nameplate, a calendar, and a phone. Medical books filled one of the bookshelves. Another bookshelf held family photos and bullshit knick-knacks that girls liked. Her degrees lined one wall. Beneath them sat a couch, which made him think of the couch in his office. The one he liked to fuck Megan on.
 

Megan.
She better fucking be okay.
 

“You fuckin’ sure I ain’t needin’ to kill no motherfucker, doc?” he asked fifteen minutes later after Doc Will breezed in and settled behind her desk.
 

She cleared her throat, squirming uncomfortably in her desk chair. She was a pretty bitch, with smooth toffee-colored skin, and hair she kept in neat braids. In the days after Patrick’s death and during the months Megan had healed, the OB had been right there whenever he or Megan needed her. Doc Will had his cell phone number and he had hers for times such as these.
 

He’d called and requested an appointment. His worry was greater than some quick fucking phone call.
 

“Dr. Howerton is my friend, Mr. Caldwell. I assure you he takes his job seriously. If something was wrong with Meggie, he’d take care of her. That’s why I referred her to him for her high-risk pregnancies. That isn’t my specialty, but it’s his.”
 

Christopher hadn’t appreciated the fact that Howerton was a fucking swinging dick and had a license to look up Megan’s pussy, but Doc Will and Megan swore it was fine because he was the best in the area and his field. Howerton had delivered the twins and gotten Megan through, so Christopher believed them. Now, he wasn’t so fucking sure.
 

“I know my fuckin’ girl, doc. She ain’t lookin’ right to me. I swear if he missin’ something that’s wrong with her, I’m fuckin’ him up.”
 

“Er, does Meggie know you’re here?”
 

He scowled at the doctor, in no mood for her female bullshit after he had to fuck up Johnnie. “That ain’t what you wantin’ to fuckin’ ask. You wanna know if she aware I’m threatenin’ that motherfucker.”
 

She pursed her lips. “Perhaps.”
 

“Look here, Doc Will. I had a rough fuckin’ mornin’. I got dumb fuckheads runnin’ fuckin’ rampant in my outfit. Val took CJ with him and Ryan for ice cream so I could fuckin’ talk to you and maybe calm the fuck down. All this shit annoyin’ the fuck outta me. You gotta take care of my Megan. Whatever else go down, as long as she healthy, I can fuckin’ deal. I’ll give you whatever the fuck you want if you just take a look at her fuckin’ records yourself. And, yeah, she fuckin’ know I’m here.”
 

Doc Will’s face softened and she smiled at him. “After the year you two have had, I understand your concerns.”
 

Yeah, after his club had been hit so fucking hard and Megan had gotten shot, then ended up pregnant. Wasn’t this time supposed to be nothing but fucking parties, spending money and focusing on family? The season of fucking cheer. Somehow, the fucking memo had been missed cuz, so far, bullshit outweighed cheerfulness.
 

Christopher had rushed to get rid of Megan’s hell house, so they’d be surrounded by nothing but happy shit until the beginning of the new year.
 

How had things gotten so fucking out of hand?
 

Oh, yeah. His fucking dick had interfered and Johnnie couldn’t handle his bitch. “I need my fuckin’ cock hacked off. You ain’t gotta tell me.”
 

Doc Will’s eyes twinkled as she laughed. “I don’t intend to tell you any such thing, Mr. Caldwell. I think Meggie is lucky to have you.”
 

“My ass lucky to have her,” he replied.
 

She nodded. “You’re lucky to have each other. Better?”
 

“Yeah.”
 

“Here’s what I’ll do,” she said after a moment. “I’ll call Burt and ask him to send his notes.”
 

“Howerton?” he asked for clarification.
 

“Yes. If I find anything suspicious, I’ll call you, but you have to give me your word there won’t be any bloodshed. I don’t sanction murder.”
 

“I ain’t askin’ your ass to authorize it. I’m fuckin’ tellin’ you what the fuck
my
ass’ll do.”
 

She glared at him, reminding him so much of Roxy he flushed like a bitch.
 

“How about I call Meggie and tell her you’re threatening the murder of a civilian?”
 

Civilian, huh? Megan had been clueing Doc Will the fuck in on club language.
 

He wouldn’t even dignify that with a reply. Folding his arms as if he didn’t care that Megan would be madder than a motherfucker, he stared Doc Will down, satisfied when her face fell and she glanced away first.
 

“How’s Mr. Taylor?” she asked into the silence. She was Zoann’s doctor, too, as well as Bailey’s, and had been Kendall’s until that cunt decided she was too fucking good to associate with the doctor the other girls went to.
 

Kendall.
Fuck, no matter how much he understood her, he should’ve fucked her up months ago. Now, because of her, he’d shot Johnnie and Brooks. By right, those motherfuckers should’ve been dead. Brooks, at the least. He was like Johnnie where that bitch was concerned—a fucking enabler.
 

Christopher was going soft in his old fucking age. Just for letting Kendall get away with so fucking much, those two deserved more than fucking bullets in their shoulders. He couldn’t believe the fucking position he was in, one where he had to leave Megan to prevent a goddamn war. If only that fucking money hadn’t already been transferred. Or if their deal hadn’t fallen through once before. When shit like that happened more than once, it made Christopher look weak and left him vulnerable to attack.
 

The thought made him want to fuck Johnnie up all over again. Somehow, he had to bring his ass home and dampen Megan’s holiday pictures with the news of his fucking departure.
 

Maybe, he’d kill Kendall, anyway. Fuck it. That was a decision for later. Right now, he had to make sure Megan was looked after in his absence.
 

“Doc, I gotta go on a unexpected and unplanned, overseas trip. Shit movin’ fast, so I’ll probably leave tomorrow. Megan gotta relationship with you. She trust you as her doctor. Just check on her for me, ‘til I get back.”
 

“You’ll need to sign release forms for me to order her records, which will be no problem since she has your name down as an authorized representative.”
 

“Whatever the fuck I gotta do. Need anything else so you can take care of her?”
 

“I promise I’ll do what I can.
 

That was all Christopher could ask for. Now, he had to get through the day and then get home and deliver the news to Megan.
 

 

Spotting Val and Digger on the park bench not far from where CJ and Ryan ran around, Christopher got out of his pickup and headed toward his RC and SAA. Rory sat between them looking on. Each time the other two circled the bench, Ryan stopped in front of Rory and spoke before taking off again.
 

As Christopher’s anger wore off, his worry about Johnnie’s condition set in. Brooks, he didn’t give a fuck one way or the other. Motherfucker wasn’t his brother
and
he was the goddamn assfuck who’d allowed Kendall to start this entire bullshit. Brooks knew Christopher as well as Johnnie. How the fuck the dumb fuck allowed Kendall to convince him
she
had the power to persuade him to deal with McCallister?
 

“‘Law!” CJ yelled, spotting him first, and zipping toward him.
 

Val and Digger glanced over their shoulders as Christopher lifted his boy into his arms. His chubby cheeks were reddened from the chilly air and his exertions, but he threw his arms around Christopher’s neck.
 

“Hey, boy,” he said gruffly.
 

“Uncle Val and Ashfuck-Dig took Woey, me, and Wyan for ice cweam. Him got some too. Woey want John-John. Him been cwying. Wyan hug him and say sowwy. Why?”
 

Setting CJ down as he reached Val and Digger, Christopher shrugged. “Tryna make him feel better.”
 

“John-John okay?”
 

“Yeah.”
 

“Where him at?”
 

“He busy. He comin’ soon.”
 

“Him with Ant Kenda?”
 

Christopher sighed at his son’s twenty questions. “I ain’t too sure,” he responded.
 

“Why Woey don’t play?”
 

Because Kendall and Johnnie wanted him to be above all the other kids, especially his. Or at fucking least that’s what Christopher assumed.
 

Instead of answering his son, he glanced at Johnnie’s kid.  He sat perfectly still in a button-down shirt and dark pants, fear gleaming in his eyes.
 

“Come here, Rory,” Christopher instructed.
 

The kid didn’t hesitate to follow his orders and scrambled off the bench. When he stopped in front of Christopher, he tipped his head back, tears filling his eyes. A lot of distance existed between Christopher and Rory, and that probably intimidated him, so Christopher crouched down.
 

“Listen up, your old man fine, hear?”
 

“Yes, sir,” his little voice trembled out.
 

Sir.
Johnnie and Kendall wanted this boy to call them by their names and show respect to every-fucking-body else. That backwards shit fucking figured. It was right up their fucked up alley.
 

“Call me Uncle Chris,” Christopher told him.
 

“‘Kay.” He swallowed. With his reddish blonde hair, blue-gray eyes and fair skin, he was an adorable kid. “O-K,” he said in a drawn out pronunciation of both letters.
 

“Go fuckin’ run the fuck around and play with your cousins.”
 

“Kennaw say sit.”
 

“Whatcha old man say?”
 

Rory frowned.
 

“Johnnie,” Christopher clarified.
 

“Jo-nee?”
 

“Yeah, that motherfucker.”
 

“Fucka mudna!” CJ’s happy yell made Rory jump.
 

Digger elbowed Val, the two of them snickering. Christopher didn’t show any reaction, not fist-pumping the air in pride
or
ordering him not to do it as Megan expected. He just shut the fuck up. He’d deal with one kid at a time. At the moment, his wasn’t top priority.
 

“Make a deal with your lil’ ass,” Christopher began, satisfied when Rory cocked his head to the side. “You go fuckin’ run and play ‘til you fuckin’ drop and I ain’t tellin’ Kendall or Johnnie.”
 

Not giving Rory a chance to respond, CJ jerked him off the bench. Instead of bouncing up, Rory burst into tears.