Misfit (Death Dwellers MC #6) (15 page)

“Yeah, boy. Good night.”

He went to Rebel and Rule’s room. Megan had decorated it real nice, in an aqua, yellow, and brown scheme. The lamp light she kept on hinted at what she’d done. But she’d spent hours finding just the right stuff to turn the twins’ room into their own little sanctuary. She’d done that in the entire fucking house. Little fucking things, the extra fucking care, that he’d never fucking risk.

Bending over, he kissed both of their cheeks, smiling at how peaceful they slept. Leaving their room, he went to the room CJ shared with Ryder.

Ryder slept in his baby bed, covers kicked off. The rails stopped Christopher from kissing his son’s cheek, so he pulled his blankets up, knowing he’d kick them off again before Christopher reached his bedroom.

Ryder kicked the blankets away before Christopher had even turned, and he chuckled at his youngest kid. He wondered if Cash knew how special it was to look at a little human and know he gazed at the best of himself.

The word family to Cash seemed as bad as a curse. Although he was so fucking angry with the motherfucker, Christopher also felt a little sorry for him.

When he bashed in his brains tomorrow, he’d never know what the fuck he’d missed out on.

Turning to CJ, Christopher stared at his oldest son. After Ryder’s birth, Megan changed the décor, gave it more of a big kid look. He figured it was more to appease CJ, for having to share his room. The other option had been to put Ryder’s nursery on the second floor, and Megan refused to do that.

CJ turned, and Christopher shook his head, unable to stop his laughter at the havoc he’d caused. Megan was
his
mommie, so he did what he needed to do on her behalf.

“Night, boy,” he said gruffly.

A light sleeper, like Megan, CJ opened his eyes. “Night, ‘Law.”

“Close your eyes. Go back to sleep.”

“’Kay.”

Christopher watched him a little while longer, until he made sure CJ was once again sleeping, then he went to his own bedroom.

Megan lay in the bed, all curled up beneath the covers. Her fingers clenching the comforter gave away the fact that she
was
awake. Fuck! She was that fucking pissed, that she’d prefer to pretend to sleep than talk to him.

“Megan?” he called, testing the waters.

A heartbeat and then, “What do you want?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“He’s sixteen, Christopher.
Sixteen
,” she sniffled.

“He fuck Mindy, baby.”

She sucked in a breath, then fell silent, tension thick e-fucking-nuff to stop a bullet, rising between them.

“He was fuckin’ by the time I got him here. Whatcha want me to do, Megan? Tell him to keep his cock in his pants? He’d just go behind my fuckin’ back. At least, this fuckin’ way, I can tell him to use a cock cover. You bein’ unreasonable.”

“She’s a grown woman! She offered to suck you off, then when you turned her down, she went to Diesel?
That’s
the definition of a whore.”

He frowned at the small lump her body made in the bed. “All them bitches whores. What the fuck you talkin’ ‘bout.”

“No, a lot of those girls just enjoy sex and are comfortable with their own bodies. If they didn’t,
men
couldn’t sleep with everything they come across, so shut up.”

“Megan, you confusin’ the fuck outta me. I ain’t too fuckin’ sure what the fuck you pissed at.”

Gritting his teeth when she didn’t answer, he threw off his clothes and hurled them to the floor, aggravated to fuck.

“If you definin’ a slut by her choosin’ the next man to fuck when one turn her down, then what the fuck the bitches who fuck one man,
maybe
wipe off her pussy, then fuck another man and another man after that? To me, they fuckin’ whores cuz that’s what the fuck they call themselves. You ain’t fuckin’ pissed about that either. You
or
me ain’t givin’ a good fuck if they fuck King fuckin’ Kong, Willy the Whale, and Godzilla, one after the fuckin’ other. Their fuckin’ pussy. Their fuckin’ business. You still fuckin’ pissed over Daphne.”

“Diesel and Mindy sleeping together is bad enough. At least they’re the same age. Daphne’s what? Fourteen years older than Diesel?”

He’d meant she was still pissed about Daphne being around
him.
How-fucking-ever…“I’m almost fifteen years older than you, so what the fuck your point? Who got the fuckin’ double standard now?”

“I was already eighteen when we met and Diesel’s a child.”

“No, baby. His age say he a child, but he grew the fuck up when he was livin’ on the fuckin’ streets.
I
was fuckin’ bitches twenty goddamn years older than me when I was fuckin’ fifteen. How the fuck I’m gonna be that fuckin’ hypocritical and tell him he can’t do the same fuckin’ thing?”

“So when CJ, Rule, Rebel, and Ryder are sixteen and they want to sleep with someone twenty years older, that’ll be fine with you?”

He narrowed his eyes. “You out your goddamn mind? If a old motherfucker touch Rebel that’s the last fuckin’ thing he ever doin’.”

“Omigod, jerk!” She sat up in bed and tossed her pillow at his head. The fluffy motherfucker bounced off his face, landing on the floor as her blonde hair swirled around her and covered her tits. Glimpsing the bare skin of her neck and shoulders, he suspected she had no clothes on. “What about our sons?”

Snarling, Christopher kicked the fallen pillow as she snatched his from his side and plopped down.

“You want me to get rid of Daphne?” he asked, deciding not to answer her question about their sons.

“I want you to get rid of all of them,” she mumbled, but then in a louder voice, “Do whatever you want. Whatever you feel is necessary.”

“I’m fuckin’ askin’
you
,” he snapped. “What the fuck necessary to keep my brothers happy sure the fuck unnecessary to
your
happiness.”

She started to cry again.

“Megan, baby,
please
, you fuckin’ killin’ me. Stop cryin’.” He sat on the edge of the bed and hung his head in his hands. “I’ll do any-fuckin-thing you ask me to do.”

He waited her out, thinking of the Bobs he’d surrounded himself with to shut Megan out so many months ago. The fact that she knew every fucking one of the original Bobs had sucked his cock. Fuck, just the reason for their fucking name.

“Keep her. For your brothers.”

Her hoarse voice reached his ears and he lifted his head.

“But I’m going to tell her to stay away from my son. If she’s there and CJ is there, and
I’m
not, she leaves, Christopher.”

“CJ our son, baby.” She’d never referred to him otherwise, until then, and it made him flinch. She’d always been so proud that she had his babies, and it seemed to make her love him more.

Instead of correcting herself, she snatched the covers to her chin. “I’m going to sleep.”

“Megan, I’ma get rid of her ass. My brothers not more important than you.”

To make amends for taking her away from the brothers, Christopher would schedule a run to a rally, something that had nothing to do with work.

Last year, he’d faced the disintegration of his club because of life and death matters. This year, it was because their known enemies were gone; their support clubs did the drug distribution; and the majority of the parties included wives and kids.

That’s why he’d wanted to keep Daphne. That’s why he brought her around even when there weren’t special events. Once again, his two lives were colliding, forcing him to choose one over the other.

“I’m beatin’ Cash to death tomorrow,” he announced.

She stilled, before muttering, “I don’t care.”

Fuck, but she was so fucking pissed. She always tried to talk him out of fucking up motherfuckers.

She reached out and turned off the lamp on her side of the bed, leaving him in the dark. Laying down reminded him that he didn’t have a pillow, and he sighed.

Megan shifted, turning on her back, before facing away from him again. “Want to share my pillow?” she asked a few minutes later.

The tension inside of him evaporated at her question. She wasn’t so angry with him that she’d want him uncomfortable. He scooted closer and laid on the pillow, settling his hand on her hip.

“Don’t touch me.”

Fuck.
“Pussy lockout, huh, baby?”

“Yep.”

“You hate me?”

“No. I love you very much.”

“Disappointed in my ass?”

“Very. It doesn’t change how I feel about you. You’re not perfect. You’ll disappoint me at times, and I’ll disappoint you.”

“I wanna fuck you. Just to make sure you ain’t hatin’ on me.”

“Nice try, but no.”

“How long?”

“I’ll tell you
after
I talk to Diesel tomorrow morning.”

“Megan, don’t say nothin’ to make him clam the fuck up. He need us, baby.”

“I’m going to tell him he needs to know sex isn’t the most important thing in the world. I’m also going to tell him to take a cue from you. Your actions, not your words. You don’t cheat on me, yet you encouraged him to cheat on his girlfriend.”

“I ain’t encourage fuck all. Ask him what the fuck I told him.”

“You allowed him to go with Cash and Daphne and he’s supposed to be in a relationship with Mindy. If that’s not encouraging him to cheat, what is?”

The more she spoke, the more rigid her muscles got. If she kept talking, she’d work herself up so much she’d lock him out her pussy for a fucking month.

“I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.”

“You goin’ to sleep now?” He fucking prayed she would. It would shut her thoughts fucking down.

She huffed out a breath. “Don’t let Daphne go, Christopher. Women are always going to want you. You’re the president. You’re beautiful. You’re sexy. You’re everything,” she whispered. “My everything.”

He smirked at the back of her head, not feeling quite so low at hearing how she saw him. Closing the distance between them, he nuzzled her neck.

She elbowed his chest. “I said don’t touch me.”

Blowing out a breath, he slid back, his smirk turning to a glare. His hard cock taunted him. “So every time that bitch near me, we goin’ through this?”

“No.”

“Would you fuckin’ answer me with more than one or two fuckin’ words like you was before?”

“Nope.”

“Jesus, Mary, and all that’s fuckin’ holy.”

“Christopher?” she said a moment later.

“What?” he snarled, angry with her spoiled behavior.

“Don’t beat up Cash.
He
didn’t make you get an erection over what Daphne said. And
he
didn’t force you to let Diesel go with her. And
he
didn’t stay at the park with our sons, instead of leaving with them when she arrived. So, unless, you want to punch your own face in, leave him alone.”

At the present rate, beating the fuck out of himself seemed like the perfect solution. Maybe, he’d knock himself the fuck out and escape her wrath.

One
thing he was certain of: Cash didn’t make him do fuck all, but he’d been the one playing goddamn games.

Well, checkmate, fuckhead.

“When Outlaw kills you, don’t say I didn’t warn you, Cash,” Stretch hissed later that night, once Daphne had been dropped off at her house, Diesel returned to Outlaw and Stretch got his motorcycle back to have his own transportation. He’d followed Cash back to Portland, although he wasn’t sure why. The day had exhausted him and his entire body ached.

Now, they faced off in the privacy of Cash’s home.

Cash sat on the sofa in his living room, his unconcerned expression both alarming and infuriating, working his way through the six pack on the coffee table. “Outlaw isn’t going to kill me.” He drank his beer. “You take shit too seriously.”

“You don’t take shit seriously enough. How could you do what you did?”

If Stretch had known the extremity of Cash’s plan, he would’ve stayed at the club.

More beer. “Lighten up. It ended well enough.”

Stretch was at his wit’s end with Cash’s attitude. He didn’t seem concerned with repercussions. He sat with his gorgeous, massive chest out, in only a pair of boxer briefs, his cock nestled between his powerful thighs. “Your dick won’t last forever. When it gives out, you’ll be all alone. What then?”

A quick flash of misery flashed in Cash’s blue eyes. “I’m doing what I was taught to do with those girls. Review them. I wanted Outlaw to give the final exam.”

“Any excuse is better than none.”

Cash finished one beer, and lined the bottle up at the edge. He opened another, and drank deeply. “What the fuck’s your excuse for how you live? What you’re willing to let me do to you?”

Stretch drew in a sharp breath.

“Is it love? You love me more than you love yourself?” Cash laughed without humor. “Just like dicks don’t last, love rarely does.”

It had been a long time since Stretch had loved himself. Once, he’d pretended to be straight, when he’d first joined the Death Dwellers. He’d still been miserable, afraid Outlaw would find out and kill him or cast him out as his father had. He also hadn’t been fulfilled by sleeping with only women. It all combined to make him hate himself and the shame he felt. The shame he’d brought to his father. But Stretch could do nothing right. After patching in, he’d called his dad and explained his new lifestyle. It hadn’t helped. His father had still been upset.

“Get over it, Stretch. As a matter of fact, get over everything. You’re living in the goddamn past while life’s passing you by. You’re scarred? So what. You’re alive. Get fucking surgery. You’re in pain? Take Oxy. Wear your goddamn brace.”

“Surgery requires money,” he said tightly.

He’d had emergency surgery, followed by weeks of recovery and months of physical therapy, paid for by Outlaw. He’d offered to pay all of Stretch’s medical expenses, but Outlaw shouldn’t bear the responsibility of Stretch’s stupidity.

Besides, he deserved the pain for surviving.

Additional surgery, testing, and physical therapy cost thousands. Saving that type of money would take four or five years.

“I wear the brace sometimes,” he said, deciding not to get into particulars. He never did. “You know that—”

“Do I? All I know is you’re chasing a fucking ghost. Hanson’s dead, Stretch, and he isn’t coming back. He had fucking free will to tell you to go and fuck yourself, instead of accepting the invitation to fuck at the club. It isn’t your fault.”

“You choose to believe that. I disagree.”

“It’s easier, right? To feel fucking sorry for yourself? That way, you don’t have to face life anymore. Live behind fear and pain.”

He couldn’t deny that accusation, however, Cash couldn’t talk. “Then we’re even. You hide behind fucking, drinking, and riding.”

A dark scowl clouded Cash’s face, indicating the nerve Stretch touched. “I enjoy riding. Same with fucking and drinking.”

“This argument is getting us nowhere. I wanted to talk to you about meeting with Outlaw tomorrow. He’s angry, Cash.”

“If he is, he’ll get over it. It was all harmless fun. Fuck, he looked at her tits. I refuse to believe he didn’t consider fucking her.”

“He’s a fucking man and she’s a pretty woman.” But she couldn’t touch Fee. Daphne was sex personified. Fee was nothing but sweetness. Daphne scared Stretch, living on the edge. Fee fascinated him, having just enough sass to keep him on his toes. “That doesn’t mean Outlaw would fuck Daphne. Nor does it mean he wants her around. If it gets back to Meggie—”

Cash waved away Stretch’s concern. “She’ll get over it.”

“Call him tonight and apologize to him.”

“Fuck no.” He finished off the second beer and started a third. “I know him better than you, so stop worrying.”

Stretch searched for the right words to get through to Cash, but came up empty. “Your arrogance is going to get you fucking killed.”

“You love me
because
of my arrogance.”

“More like in spite of.”

Cash shrugged, forever conceited.

Hiding how much that turned him on, Stretch tried another argument. “Well, even if it doesn’t get back to Meggie, there’s always the matter of Fee.”

“He can’t beat my ass based on speculation. Daphne will swear I was in bed with her, only stopping to get to your room and lead Fee to her car. See? I’ve thought of everything. All my bases are covered.”

Fine. Stretch had nothing more to say. Cash knew it all and wouldn’t be swayed any other way. Stretch
did
worry about everything. In this instant, he thought he was justified.

Tomorrow, by this time, they’d know who’d been right.

The next morning, Cash drew in a deep breath as he raised his hand to knock on Outlaw’s office door, thinking of Stretch’s warning. He had nothing to worry about.

Cash would reason shit out with his president, receive a punch or two, and be on his way.

The door flew open, while Cash still held his hand up to knock. Now that Outlaw stood in front of him, he lowered his hand and grinned. “Couldn’t wait to see me?”

Outlaw’s fist connected to Cash’s chin and jaw, before he punched him in the gut. Doubling over, Cash staggered back.

“Get the fuck in here.”

Nausea rising in him, he crept forward, staying on his feet by sheer willpower. Outlaw had knocked away Cash’s smugness with the hard blows. He’d come in expecting the man to scream and holler
first
, believing he’d see his ass whipping coming. The fact that the fist could’ve been a bullet woke him up.

This time, he saw the hit coming. Even worse. He fucking flinched before impact. Whacked off his feet, he coughed and gasped, noticing Outlaw’s steel-toed boots, the ones he wore to beat the fuck out of people.

His head was quite close to that boot, so he quieted himself, fearing Outlaw would kick his brains out.

“What the fuck wrong with you, motherfucker?” He prowled around Cash, then kicked him in the thigh.

Shit.

“You know the first goddamn thing my kid told his ma?”

Fuck, he was fucking dead. Stretch had been right. If Meggie had gotten upset over Daphne’s presence, Outlaw would show no mercy.

Another kick made Cash grunt.

“Ask me what the fuck he told her?”

He didn’t know if he could, he was in so much pain, but then Outlaw reached his head again and stared down with a look of cold rage.

“Wh-what did CJ s-say?” he managed.

“My boy told Megan I had a pretty girl with me. Megan knew I ain’t brought no bitch nowhere. CJ told his ma
she
knew the bitch. The lady with the white hair that you don’t like. She couldn’t fuckin’ believe I had one of them Bob bitches around our boys at the fuckin’ park. You know how goddamn pissed she was? I told her
you
the motherfucker who brought the bitch. We fuckin’ talked, but havin’ that bitch near me upset her. That girl popular with the brothers, so I ain’t let that bitch go, but I’m fuckin’ sick of her bullshit with me.
Then,
just when Megan was forgivin’ my ass, you know what the fuck
else
CJ said?”

Cash couldn’t imagine, and didn’t want to. He’d have to pull the little kid aside and tell him about the bro code.

“He told his ma
Diesel
left with you, Stretch, and that girl. I had a fuckin’ choice to make. I could lie to my wife about why the four of you motherfuckers left. Save
my
ass from a pussy lockout. Or I could tell her the truth and have a pissed lil’ motherfucker on my hands.”

Fuck. Cash hoped he opted to lie.

“You know what the fuck it’s like sleepin’ next to her, but havin’ her look at me like she gonna fuck me up if I fuckin’ touch her? I ain’t fucked her last night
or
this mornin’. Know why, motherfucker? Cuz she disappointed that I let our kid go and fuck a grown motherfuckin’ woman who fuck everything she see.” He grabbed Cash’s collar and pulled him to his feet. “I spend my fuckin’ life tryin’ not to upset her and I e-fuckin-specially don’t want to see her look at me with fuckin’ disappointment. That about fuckin’
killed
me.”

Another hit to his gut. This time Cash couldn’t hold in his moan as he hit the floor with a hard thump.

“I’m beatin’ the fuck outta you for my Megan. I ain’t fucked you up yet for Fee
or
the position you put me in with Diesel.”