Misappropriate (24 page)

She stared at him a moment, her mouth moving but not one fucking sound coming out. Her eyes rolled back in her head and he just managed to reach her before she fucked herself up with a fall to the floor.

He brought her to their bedroom and laid her on the bed, staring at her. Right now, he was too jacked up with adrenaline from the past twenty-four hours to feel any regret on her behalf. She’d shot a motherfucker to save Christopher’s life and that impressed the fuck out of him.

Tucking her in and kissing her lips as her eyes fluttered open, he called Mortician. He and Digger had their hands full already, but, Traveler had to disappear, just like the other two.

After he explained the situation to Mort, Christopher disconnected the call and sat next to Megan.

“You okay?” he asked gruffly. She was still pale as well as droopy from the fizzy hangover, but she nodded.

“I-I’ll be fine,” she whispered and blinked. “I guess I failed the test for Bad Asses.”

Christopher frowned. “What the fuck you talkin’ about, Megan?”

“Sh-shooting somebody to s-save your life and then f-fainting.”

He stretched out next to her and gathered her in his arms. “In my book, you the baddest motherfucker alive, baby.”

She smiled sleepily at him and curled against him.

Stroking her hair, he kissed the top of her head, then sighed. “Megan, if I need to get a fuckin’ shrink on the payroll, let me know. ‘Cuz shit like this fuck with people and I’m wonderin’ if a little life-long therapy might be on the menu for you. Fuck what happened to you before we met for a moment. The past day has been one tough fuckin’ problem after the other, startin’ with that fuckin’ dead head.” He tightened his grip on her, Cee Cee’s intentions for her…Nope, wasn’t going there. “Let me make this clear about that shot you gave Traveler. You disabled him. That’s all. He coulda survived it. Okay?”

Until he saw exactly where the wound Megan had given Traveler was located, he couldn’t be sure.

She remained silent for a couple minutes and then, “I would do it again to save you, Christopher,” she said softly. “I aimed for the biggest area on his body to increase my odds of hitting him.”

Christopher processed her words for a few minutes, nuzzled her neck when he felt her tremble. “You tellin’ me you woulda capped him in the head if you had better aim?”

Instead of answering, she pulled away, dark circles around her red rimmed eyes. More effects from what he’d given her. “I stabbed Thomas. Remember? To vindicate my mother.”

“Yeah, I know.” Christopher didn’t mean to sound so annoyed but the thought of her step fuckhead put him in a bad mood on a good day. He urged her head back to the crook of his arm.

“If-if…he was a threat to you. I didn’t think when I saw Traveler with his gun. I reacted. I don’t know if I was sure of my aim, if I would’ve fired at his head.”

A part of Christopher hoped not. Call him a crazy, contradictory motherfucker, but, he wanted her to keep her innocent sweetness. He
needed
her to keep it. That’s why he protected her as much as possible, especially from other bitches. He’d asked her to learn to shoot a gun and, yet, he didn’t want to look at her and know she was carrying.

A little snore reached his ears and he chuckled. She’d fallen asleep, well-deserved after playing Annie fucking Oakley. Easing his arm from under her head, Christopher got up and made his way back to the main room, where Mortician and Digger had arrived.

Mortician snapped his plastic gloves into place and looked at Christopher, reclaiming the cigarette hanging from his lips. “You always have to do head fucking shots, Prez?”

“Yeah, Outlaw,” Digger grunted, maneuvering Traveler’s body onto the tarp they’d brought in. “This chest wound would’ve done the job and only left us to deal with blood right now.”

“No the fuck that chest wound
ain’t
woulda done the fuckin’ job,” Christopher snapped, advancing on Digger, “and you ever let Megan hear you say that bullshit, I’ll cut your fuckin’ tongue out. She feel fuckin’ bad enough about havin’ to shoot this motherfucker.”

Digger’s eyes widened, before his brow creased into a frown. “You telling me Megan shot Traveler?”

Christopher glared at Mortician.

“Sorry, brother,” he said with a shrug. “Didn’t get a chance to clue him in to all the details.” Mortician finished his cigarette while he filled Digger in on what Christopher had told him. “So, Prez is right,” he concluded. “We can’t have Meggie thinkin’ she killed this dumb fuck.”

The door opened and Val stomped in, sparing a brief glance at dead Traveler, then stomping toward the hallway.

“Hey!” Christopher called, concerned at Val’s attitude. He never ignored workplace situations. “What the fuck your problem?”

Val spun around. “A bitch named Zoann is my fucking problem,” he roared.

“Tell me somethin’ I don’t fuckin’ know,” Christopher said with a snort. He nodded to Mortician and Digger, then pointed to Traveler. “Get him the fuck outside. We have another two or three hours before he start to stiffen. I need a fuckin’ drink.” Which was what dead ass had interrupted Christopher from doing in the first place. Val remained in the entryway, clenching and unclenching his fists, pissed like a motherfucker. “Sit down, brother. If it’ll help to talk about the bitch, I’m all fuckin’ ears.” He grabbed a couple bottles of tequila and headed for his favorite table, in the corner, where he could observe every fucking thing.

Digger opened the door while Mortician hefted Traveler’s tarp covered body into his arms and carried him outside, allowing cold air to blast in for the moments it took the two brothers to complete the task.

Val slammed four glasses on the table, grabbed the bottle—swigged from it—then filled the glasses to the brim. “Don’t mind me. I’m ready to head to Cali whenever you ready to roll, Outlaw.”

“Just waitin’ for the confirmation call, brother.” Christopher drank from his glass before getting a smoke. “I don’t trust fuckin’ Bin not to have helped Cee Cee to set some type of fuckin’ trap.”

“Once Cee Cee is taken care of, are you going to be…” Mortician’s voice trailed off and he drew in a deep breath, so Christopher guessed what the question might be.

“Stay outta me and Megan’s business.”

Digger stretched, then stood and shook his leg. “I’ve been sitting five fucking minutes and the bitch fell asleep on me.” He shot Christopher an irritated look. “You need better workplace conditions, Prez. The meat shack not big enough to handle the volume we saw today.”

Mortician slapped the side of Digger’s head. “Stop being a pussy.”

“We not trying to get in your business with your woman,” Val began, squirming in his seat. “It’s just that Megan don’t deserve the shit you been handing her. She doesn’t do anything but love you and your boy and care about all us motherfuckers.”

“And that whiny bitch K-P sniffing after,” Digger added. “I can’t see how he could think about fucking her. Instead of screaming when her pussy is feeling good, she probably bursts into fucking tears.”

Christopher frowned and released smoke through his nose. “Yo’ fuck face, that
is
Megan’s Ma’s pussy you talkin’ about. Somethin’ I don’t even want to think about in any way, so shut the fuck up.” He glanced at Val. “As soon as I know Cee Cee is taken care of, I’m gonna make everythin’ up to her. I already had to put Big Joe to ground. Once I take care of Cee Cee, we’ll be all out of fathers who I have to fuck up for one reason or another, so we’ll be straight.”

Chapter 16

Meggie had had enough of Christopher’s distance and attitude. After being so sweet to her after
The Incident
, he’d withdrawn completely. And, now, two days later, he wasn’t spending any time with her. Or even at the club. He hadn’t been responsible for any of what had happened and neither had she, so she couldn’t understand why he’d retreat from her again.

Fed up, she decided to follow him in one of the spare cars on this particular cold, drizzly morning. She wasn’t sure what she expected. Deep down, she didn’t believe he was going to another woman, but, then again, Christopher always did the unexpected and her heart beat in a painful rhythm at the thought of
her
Outlaw putting his body inside another woman’s. Even confiding in another woman would break Meggie’s heart. He was a man who held a lot close to the chest, but, she also knew he’d confided in Kiera and Ellen before he’d met her, so, whether he realized it or not, he liked having the softness of a woman to lean on.

She swallowed and nausea bubbled to the surface, tears lurking at the corners of her eyes. Perfect. Just freaking perfect. The best way to get Christopher’s attention would be to burst into tears after suffering a bout of morning sickness. Morning sickness he knew nothing about since he hadn’t been around when it began.

Somehow, while ruminating and driving—yes, really smart Meggie—she’d managed to lose sight of his Harley. She sniffled and glanced around. The only reason—other than a woman—Christopher would be on this side of town was to visit the cemetery. Doubting he’d be there, but deciding to pass by anyway, she swiped at her tears. Within minutes, she was pulling in front of the place where both her father and his mother were buried. She squinted her eyes and started when she saw the chrome in Christopher’s bike brightening the dreary day.

Placing a hand on her belly to will the nausea away, she sat a few moments. Reasonably certain she wouldn’t throw up everything and her guts, she stepped out of the car and slammed the door. The cool droplets hit her warm skin and the wind lifted her hair. She wished she’d remembered to bring a jacket, but she’d been so determined to find Christopher. After getting CJ to her mom and throwing up, she’d ran out of the club in time to see which way Christopher had turned, glad he’d already chosen a temporary car for her. She didn’t have to wait on someone finding her a vehicle, since her tainted Beetle had already disappeared. She’d probably broken a few speeding laws to catch up to Christopher, but, now, she’d found him.

Wrapping her arms around her waist, she made her way to Patricia’s grave, surprised when she didn’t find her husband there. She turned and glanced at the small rise in the distance where her father rested. She couldn’t see the expression on Christopher’s face, but she saw him staring in her direction, the wind whipping his black hair back and forth.

She scowled when she saw him take a long drink from a bottle. It was so early in the morning for him to be drinking. For the past few months, he’d waited until late afternoon before imbibing. As she glanced between the pathway and her husband, she walked toward him, reaching him a few moments later. A frown creased his brow, drawing his dark eyebrows together, the obscene length of his lashes ringing guarded green eyes.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, since a graveyard was the absolute last place she’d expected to find him. “Is this where you’ve been disappearing to everyday?”

He shrugged, tasted his rum again, his big body tense. “Yeah.”

Meggie heaved in a breath. It was obvious he didn’t want to talk. They’d been through too much for him to just shut down like this. Blocking her out was unfair. At least give her the benefit of the doubt and share his problems.

She frowned. “Why?”

“Best place for me to be, Megan.”

“A graveyard?”

He rolled his eyes. “Ain’t this where the fuck I’m at?” he growled.

“
Jerk
!” she snapped. “I don’t need your sarcasm, Christopher Caldwell.”

“
Christopher Caldwell
?” He stepped closer to her, finally allowing only inches to separate them instead of three feet. “You my fuckin’ Ma or some shit?”

“No, but I am your
wife
.”

He flinched and Meggie’s heart sank, the fight draining out of her. The new baby was already taking a lot of her energy, so she didn’t have the heart to battle its father. “You don’t want to be married to me anymore?”

He thrust a hand through his hair and pulled the ends. “Fuck, Megan. What the fuck kinda question is that?”

“A legitimate one,” she returned. Try as she might, she couldn’t hold her tears back.

“Don’t fuckin’ cry, baby.” He pulled her into his arms and hugged her. “Especially over a motherfucker like me.”

She stood on tiptoes, breathing in the leather he wore and
him
, her husband. Her Christopher. “I love you,” she whispered, nausea roiling through her.

He pressed his lips on the top of her head. “Why? That’s what I wanna fuckin’ know. Why the fuck you love me, Megan? I can’t even guarantee you protection against Cee cuz I can’t find the motherfucker. I’m supposed to fuckin’ protect you. Motherfucker slipped back to Virginia. Which pisses me the fuck out cuz instead of grounding him myself I had to put a fuckin’ hit out on him.” He cursed, his shoulders heaving with disappointment. “So, again, why you love me? I can’t even take care of a motherfucker threatenin’ you myself.”

She wiggled out of his arms and stepped back to breath in fresh air and stare him in the eyes. He looked uncertain and disgusted. Meggie was sure he was both. He was a strong, willful man and he hated feeling vulnerable. “I love you because of the man you are. You’re strong and no-nonsense, but, for those you care about and love, you’re always right there. It’s your heart and your soul—“

“My soul?” he scoffed and drank again, glaring at her. “My soul, if I have one, is blacker than the pits of hell. My soul? What fuckin’ soul?”

And, suddenly, Meggie got it. She understood why he’d pulled away and why he’d hurt her and insisted they not have a church wedding. She stepped closer to him and rubbed his cheek, freshly shaved but still so masculine. “If you didn’t have a soul, Christopher, you wouldn’t have a conscience.”

He opened his mouth to speak but she placed her fingers over his lips to forestall his words.

“Shhh,” she soothed. “You have both. Whether you know it—or like it. If you didn’t have a conscience, the things you do wouldn’t eat at you.”

“You got me pegged wrong, baby.” He finished off the rum and swiped his hand over his mouth, glowering at her. “Didn’t start givin’ a fuck ‘til I met you.” He stomped around her. “Take off your fuckin’ blinders, Megan. See me for the motherfucker I really am.”