A Very Christopher Christmas (A Death Dwellers MC Novella) (29 page)

It was storming like a motherfucker when Christopher stepped off Sloane’s plane. For the millionth motherfucking time, he dialed Megan’s number and got no answer.
 

“Fuck, Prez, we thought we lost you,” Mort said when Christopher walked in from the tarmac and dripped his way to the enforcer.
 

He’d said something similar when Christopher contacted him and told him he was on the way. Christopher regretted not calling Megan yesterday in between showering and eating while he’d still been at the hotel Digger had moved him and Kendall to.
 

After that, shit had gotten fucked up with Kendall going into labor.
 

“If something happen to my ass, you woulda needed to fuck Kendall the fuck up. Her fuckin’ fault I’m in this shit.”
 

Mort nodded. Usually, he had some comment, but not now, raising Christopher’s suspicions. “Megan okay?”
 

“Cash called. He got a dead motherfucker out your mud room and—”
 

Christopher grabbed Mort’s cut. “Megan okay?” he demanded. “Where the fuck my girl?”
 

“Meggie girl in the cave, Prez. In labor.”
 

 

As Johnnie disconnected with Cash, blood bloomed on the front of Megan’s nightgown, descending his night from bad and into hell.
 

“Sweetheart, I have to check you.”
 

He had to get her out of these wet clothes, too. Silent tears leaked from her eyes, but she didn’t protest as he found another blanket and laid it on the ground. Once he did, he lifted her and placed her on top of it before laying her gently back down. After shoving her nightgown above her waist, he urged her legs open, but she clamped her knees together.
 

“Open your legs, Megan.”
 

“Johnnie, please.”
 

“Baby, I swear, I’m not asking that for no other reason but medical.”
 

“But Christopher—”
 

“Is your baby coming?”
 

Instead of answering, she squeezed her eyes shut and did as he asked, spreading her legs, allowing Johnnie to see the blood smearing her thighs and… “Shouldn’t you have no hair? Will it be sanitary for the baby?”
 

“Please, stop,” she whispered in a small voice, then writhed in agony again. “I-I w-want Chr-Christopher,” she said after a moment. “H-he c-can’t b-be g-gone.”
 

“He isn’t gone,” he crooned, praying his words were true. Megan’s skin, usually the hue of champagne, was alarmingly pale. He really did need to warm her up. She folded her arms over her breasts and refused to meet his gaze.
 

She sobbed, near hysteria and hypothermia. The only word he could make out was dead. It resounded in his head, but her lips were turning an alarming shade of blue. He needed to warm her up, then somehow get her to understand, as far as
he
knew, Christopher wasn’t dead.
 

When she arched up again and cried out, he realized she was having another contraction. This went on for a while before she went silent, seeming just suddenly giving up. He wouldn’t fucking allow it. Settling himself in front of her, he held out his hands.
 

“Grab hold of me, sweetheart,” he encouraged, relieved when she did. “Are you ready?”
 

Already bearing down, she nodded and squeezed his hands. She grunted and strained until she grew too weak to do so and fell back onto the blanket, her hair plastered to her.
 

“Come on, baby,” he crooned. “You’re doing so good.”
 

She grabbed his hands again, her own trembling in his hold.
 

“You can do this.”
 

“Johnnie, please, it hurts.”
 

“I know, sweetheart. But it’ll be over before you know it.”
 

Gasping for air, she fell back again.
 

 “Stay calm. Whatever else happens, I’m here for you.”
 

Her sobs started all over again and she clung to him as if she’d never let him go. As if her heart had been broken into a million pieces. She was using all her energy, insisting that Christopher was dead.
 

She let loose a little hysterical shriek and her skin seemed to lose what little warmth she had. If he didn’t do something soon, she’d be dead.
 

“H-he’s m-my everything. I-I w-want to d-die, t-too.”
 

“That’s not happening. I’m not about to let you and your baby die. Christopher would kill me.”
 

He watched her, her trembling lips, her blue eyes filled with pain. A sick feeling began in his stomach.
 

“My husband is dead. My Christopher is gone.”
 

He’d never convince Megan that no one knew if Christopher was alive or dead, in her current state.
 

 “Christopher isn’t dead,” he snarled. “And even if he is, your children need you.”
 

She stared up at him, her eyes huge, her chin and lips trembling. “I don’t care about anything but the fact that I’ll never hold Christopher again.”
 

“Why won’t you believe me when I tell you Christopher isn’t dead?”
 

“Because I saw him! Because I haven’t heard from him in days! No one has. He wouldn’t do this to me. He would’ve c-called.”
 

He stared into her eyes, overflowing with grief and hurt.
 

For once, he couldn’t quite blame Christopher for keeping Megan so close. She had an innocence that needed protecting—an innate belief in the goodness of people. She’d experienced her share of brutality. And, yet, she never blamed other people for everything else she’d been through.
 

“He promised, Johnnie. He promised he was coming back.” Tears choked her. “I can’t have Ryder without Christopher.”
 

“You have no choice, Megan,” he said gruffly, tangling his fingers with hers.
 

“I want Christopher,” she repeated.
 

“You fuckin’ got me, baby,” a voice said from behind Johnnie, a moment before a larger beam of light shone on the cave wall.
 

Johnnie jerked and glanced over his shoulder. Against the backdrop of the candles, Christopher stood behind him, visibly tired, but alive. He’d lost weight, but he was there, drinking in the sight of Megan and not caring that Johnnie was with her. He grinned, never so happy to see Christopher as he was in that moment. At any moment, he expected to cry like a girl.
 

“Your bitch and your daughter at the hospital, Johnnie,” Christopher told him in a neutral voice. “Plane on standby to take you to her.”
 

The words penetrated Johnnie’s relief. “Kendall delivered?”
 

“Yeah, your girl born.” Walking to Megan and kneeling next to her, Christopher bent and kissed her, murmuring reassurances to her. “Early this morning.”
 

He grinned. “Looks like we’re even then.”
 

“No the fuck we ain’t. I wasn’t ‘bout to look up that bitch cunt. Digger delivered your kid.”
 

Same old Christopher. At the thought, Johnnie smiled, happy to see Christopher alive and in one piece.
 

“Leave me with my girl and you get to yours. I ain’t got no cell phone, so as soon as you fuckin’ can, call 911. Send Bitsy here in case Ryder come.”
 

“Is it still raining?”
 

“On and fuckin’ off. Why?”
 

“I’m just thinking about Zoann getting to this cave.”
 

“I know, John Boy, but it can’t fuckin’ be helped. I’ma have to carry Megan back, but I ain’t wantin’ to move her right now. If the baby come, the umbilical cord gotta be cut and shit. Bitsy gonna have to carry Ryder while I see to my girl.”
 

Not having a better plan, Johnnie thought it useless to argue, so he left Christopher stroking Megan’s head and promising he’d take care of her.
 

 

Megan had weeks left before Ryder’s due date. She also needed to be in a hospital for a C-section. She shouldn’t fucking deliver in a dirty fucking cave without medical care.
 

The exhaustion left Christopher as he watched his Megan struggle to push until the strain became too much and she fell back.
 

“Christopher?” she whispered after a moment as if she didn’t believe it was really him. “He said you were dead. He showed me. You. Dead,” she repeated.
 

“No, baby, my ass ain’t a fuckin’ ghost, so that mean I ain’t been dead.”
 

“You were wearing your cut and…and…” She started to cry. “I just didn’t know how I’d live without you. I would’ve for our babies, but...”
 

She was breaking his fucking heart. “Shhh,” he said, stroking her hair again. “We okay, baby. My ass okay. You okay.”
 

Grimacing, she nodded. “It hurts,” she told him and began to bear down again.
 

He moved away from her side and checked for himself what was going on with her pussy. In one fucking way it relieved him to see the baby’s head crowning and terrified him in another.
 

“It’s me and you, baby.” He clutched her hands and squeezed with reassurance. “I don’t think I can get you back to the house for a fuckin’ ambulance.”
 

“Okay.”
 

“Look at me, Megan,” he instructed, pulling her into a sitting position. “Focus on my eyes. Nothin’ else important. Under-fuckin-stand?”
 

She nodded.
 

“On the count of fuckin’ three. One-two-three,
push
.”
 

She grunted and did as he ordered, bearing down while looking at him.
 

“Scream, curse, do what-fuckin-ever you gotta.”
 

Although she didn’t curse, she released an agonized scream the next time she pushed.
 

“I got you. Always and forever,” he promised. “You can do this. Just one more fuckin’ push.”
 

One, final time and their son slid into the world. Christopher guided Megan back, then picked up Ryder as he released a loud wail. He was tiny, bloody, and full of goop, but he was alive and crying and wiggling.
 

The cleanest material available was his T-shirt. Laying their son in Megan’s arms, Christopher removed the shirt and wrapped the baby in it before returning him to his girl and laying him against Megan.
 

Christopher knew the baby needed the umbilical cord clamped and cut, and his mouth and nose suctioned, but he didn’t have the necessary equipment and he wasn’t sure what to do.
 

“He needs more covers,” Megan said hoarsely. The baby was already quieting down and Christopher worried that wasn’t good. “We’re both wet.” Struggling to move, she stroked Ryder’s back.
 

“Whatcha doin’, baby?”
 

“Getting one of the blankets I’m lying on.”
 

Lifting her halfway as she held onto Ryder, he grabbed the blanket and then helped her back down. He threw the cover over their son just as Zoann raced in. Christopher was glad because he knew fuck all about caring for newborns.
 

“I got here as soon as I could,” she said, removing her rain poncho and revealing a medical kit. “Where’s Val? He isn’t home yet.”
 

Christopher winced. No one had told Zoann that Val was missing. In a way, he understood, but he just hated that he had to break the news to her about Val’s injuries.
 

“Val comin’,” he started, indicating Zoann to sit. Once she did, he laid Ryder across her lap but kept a hand on his squirming son. “We ran into some problems.”