Misfit (Death Dwellers MC #6) (56 page)

Standing, Derby held up his hands. “I’m not. I just thought you should know. Personally, if it was me—”

“It ain’t you. If you lay a fuckin’ hands on my brothers cuz of fuckin’ rumors, I’ma fuck your entire club up.”

“Fuck, Outlaw! Sit.”

At Christopher’s growl, Derby sighed.

“Please? I’d never get on your bad side. I didn’t say that to offend you.”

Christopher scowled between Derby and Jax. “Get back on my good side and scope out fuckin’ Noah.”

Taking his life in his hands, Derby grabbed Christopher’s arm. As a fellow president, he had a certain status. However, no man grabbed another motherfucker without expecting to die.

“I’m forty-five years old, Outlaw,” Derby whispered. “With a twenty-six-year old son. A gay son. I’d kill any motherfucker who went after him. My members are aware. I gave them a choice when my kid first came out. They could patch out and pretend not to know if they wanted to live. Or they could stay and look the other way. They didn’t have to agree with my kid, but if they fucked with him, I’d kill them. Plain and simple.” Releasing Christopher, he licked his lips. “Slipper also said Cash and Stretch have been fucking Ophelia. Together. Take it from me. The brother’s intentions are good. He thinks he’s doing you a favor by spying. Warn your brothers to lay low. Slipper won’t move without solid proof and he doesn’t want to piss you off. He’s fucking scared of you. After you avenge Ophelia, give your members the choice I gave mine. I know your brothers aren’t your kid, but if they mean anything to you—to your little sister—take my advice.”

For a long moment, Christopher stared at Derby, rolling his words over in his head. He nodded, clapping the man’s back. “Thanks, brother,” he said.

Sometimes, a little advice went a long fucking way.

When Megan was stabbed, Christopher couldn’t sit around the hospital and wait for status updates about how she fared. He didn’t have children to see to nor had it settled into him that she was his heart and soul. Her shooting revealed just how much she meant to him and how lost he would’ve been without her. News of his sisters’ and nieces’ deaths had come while she’d still been in the hospital. He’d locked himself in his room and taken out his grief and frustration alone. Not necessarily in peace, but in solitude, broken only by his rage.

Arriving home after visiting Fee and then Derby, Christopher didn’t have the luxury of pondering all that had been discussed in the past few hours. Megan was ordering him to get ready for dinner over the music she had blasting. His children were running through the house, screaming at the top of their lungs. Digger was entertaining Ryder, while Bunny set the table before rounding up the kids so they could eat.

The entire noisy process took twenty minutes. Christopher didn’t feel like eating. He wanted to go to his room and lock himself inside. Or go to his office at the club.

“’Law! ‘Law! ‘Law!” CJ chanted as Christopher walked into the dining room to find his children in their respective seats and Ryder in his high chair as Megan and Bunny sat dishes of steaming food on the table runner.

With Bunny living there, Digger was a frequent dinner guest. Tonight, even he was working on Christopher’s ass, piling food onto his plate as the girls set the dishes out. Megan’s stern look or Bunny slapping his hand away didn’t deter him.

“Wait for mommie, Ashfuck Dig,” CJ ordered. “Her get food first.”

Digger stuffed an oyster into his mouth. “I’m hungry, kid. Hunting down motherfuckers take a lot out a man.”

Christopher frowned at Digger as Megan returned carrying a pitcher of lemonade. She sat it near him. “Fresh lemonade and tequila,” she announced.

Bunny held up a second pitcher. “Plain lemonade.”

“You make some dope ass drinks, girl,” Digger complimented around a mouthful of food, holding up his glass. “I want a big glass, Meggie.”

Rebel wrinkled her nose. “No talking with food in your mouth.”

“Too late for the motherfucker to know that, Bug,” Christopher told his girl.

She giggled at him, just as he always did when he called her that.

“Bugs be squished,” CJ pointed out, then clapped his hands together. “I gonna squish you like a bug, El.”

“And I’ma beat your lil’ fuckin’ ass, boy,” Christopher snapped, not smiling as Megan filled his glass with her spiked lemonade.

Tears filled Rebel’s eyes. Megan rushed to their girl’s side. Most nights, Christopher appreciated the chaos at dinner. Him at the head. Megan to his right, with Ryder’s high chair angled between them. CJ sat next to his ma and Diesel two seats from Megan. When he ate with them, Digger sat to Christopher’s left in the seat Rule usually occupied. Tonight, Rule’s booster chair had been set up in the chair to Digger’s right, then Bunny, and then Rebel.

Digger was the only motherfucker chomping while Megan stroked Rebel’s hair, still whispering to her. CJ gave Christopher an under-eyed look.

“Come here, Rebel,” Christopher instructed.

Rebel lifted her head from where she leaned on Megan’s tit. Climbing from the chair, his daughter ran to him, her little arms outstretched.

Raising her up, he sat her on the end of the table, unsure what to do about her tears and red-splotchy face. On the rare occasions he watched her, he made funny faces and loud noises to entertain her. He never thought he’d have to do the shit around other grown motherfuckers. But he was Rebel’s old man in public and in private, whether he was happy, sad, frustrated, tired, or sick.

He tuned everybody out. Drawing his brows together, he crossed his eyes. Immediately, she grinned through her sniffles, eating his attention up.

“CJ ain’t mean to make you cry,” he said, hugging her close.

Without her sidekick, Harley, Rebel seemed afraid of CJ.

“CJ wants to squish me, Daddy. He’s mean.”

“I not!” CJ yelled, the food in his mouth muffling his words. “You scary.”

“After you eat, get ready for bed,” Christopher snapped, Rebel’s new tears hurting his head. “You ain’t playin’ on no iPad or comin’ with us to the den after dinner. You goin’ to your room.”

“MegAnn,” CJ called around pitiful sniffles, tears sliding down his cheeks.

“I’m not listening, potato. I’ve told you to be nice to your brothers and sister. You were very mean to Rebel.”

“I sorry, Mommie,” CJ wailed.

“I know, buddy. Apologize to Rebel and stop crying, okay?”

“O…” His body shuddered with the force of his sniffs. “Kay.”

Fuck, Christopher should’ve gone to the club and explained he’d gotten tied up. For a few minutes, they ate in relative silence, broken only by CJ’s hard sniffs. Reminding himself this was a normal fucking day at his house, Christopher sat his fork aside and made the sound of a motorcycle revving. Or what the fuck he hoped sounded like the motherfucker.

Rebel squealed and CJ smiled, quieting for the first time in ten fucking minutes. Finally, fucking order was restored.

Ryder swiped his plate, filled with fucked-up baby food, off the high chair tray, shrieking as motherfucking pureed shit flew every-fucking-where and his plate crashed to the floor.

Gritting his teeth, Christopher finished his meal, then went the fuck upstairs, which was what he’d wanted to do all fucking evening.

“Wake up.”

Opening his eyes, Christopher found Megan looming over him, her bare tits in his face. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep but he felt much better, especially with his girl waking him up as she was.

“Hey, baby,” he murmured, lifting his head and drawing a nipple into his mouth, the taste of her milk waking him up completely and making his cock rise.

She groaned, grinding against him before pulling away and hopping off him.

“Undress and meet me in the bathroom,” she instructed, disappearing before he questioned her.

Doing as she requested, Christopher headed to the bathroom, where he found her in a tub filled with water and soapy bubbles. She liked baths, so he’d had a huge whirlpool tub installed, big enough for both of them and separate from the shower stall. The last time they’d bathed together had been on Valentine’s Day.

She leaned against the rubber bath pillow, strands of hair escaping her messy bun and plastered to her neck. “Get in.”

Climbing in and settling into the water, he started to turn, but she held him tight and guided his head back against her shoulder. Her tits pressed into his back, resting her hands on his shoulders. Even in the water, the heat of her pussy, the feel of her pussy hairs, singed him.

She nipped his earlobe. “You’re such a wonderful dad. Rebel loved your funny faces. I did, too.”

Relaxing against her, he sighed, lulled by her voice, her touch. “I was aggravated to fuck, baby,” he admitted.

“We all have those days,” she assured him, massaging his shoulders.

“You don’t, Megan. You fuckin’ superhuman. The best Ma in the fuckin’ world. I don’t know where the fuck you get the energy from.”

She kissed the top of his head. “I get tired and irritated and frustrated. On the days I feel overwhelmed, I think about you. Telling me I’m a good mom and wife. I believe you. You’re here, seeing me at my best and worst. Hearing you say that you think I’m good to you and our kids means so much to me. More than you’ll ever know. But, Christopher, you’re good, too. The best. We’d be lost without you. If you need time to yourself,
here
or at the club or wherever, I’ll understand. We all need time to just be. How many times do I have to tell you? I have your back.”

Humbled by her, Christopher closed his eyes. Content just to be.

Opening her eyes, Fee groaned, the glare of the sunlight hurting. She fluttered her lashes as awareness seeped into her and a sharp pain hit her throat. Her entire body ached, some places more than others.

Images of Noah flashed into her mind. He’d tried to kill her, but she’d gotten away. Somehow. Wincing, she recalled the burn of a knife blade, the sting of cuts and stabs, the wetness seeping from her wounds.

She’d survived, and it didn’t matter how, only that she had. For so many months, she’d wasted her life in an aimless fog. Not months.
Years.
Ever since her mother’s death. Patricia had been the foundation of Fee’s life and she’d floundered, meandering along and not knowing which way was up. She hadn’t known where she’d fit.

Nia and Avery had had kids and careers. Bev had been the traveler. Zoann had been Christopher’s
Bitsy
. Even when Zoann hated him, deep down, her sister loved their big brother. She’d just been the baby of the family. The one who had dreams of being a filmmaker.

Then, Zoann had given birth to Ryan and needed Fee. For the first time in her life, someone had actually
needed
her. She hadn’t just been the youngest of six siblings. She’d been a trustworthy, contributing adult, who happened to have shit taste in men and who ended up really not liking
three
of her siblings. She’d loved them, though she hadn’t found much to like.

Once Fee and Christopher bridged their differences, she’d found friendship with her sister-in-law. More than anything, she’d found acceptance. Christopher accepted her, no questions asked.

Suppose she’d never seen
them
again? Instead of mourning her lost family, she should’ve been celebrating. But, no. She’d chased ghosts and not
lived.

Her mother, sisters, and nieces were never coming back. She had to go on. The time for regrets and recriminations was over. She had to own up to what she wanted, and then, go after it.

She loved Cash and Stretch, but she didn’t want to be hidden. However, her two lost boys shouldn’t suffer because of her decision. Stretch shouldn’t lose Cash because Fee no longer liked the direction of their relationship. As soon as she was strong enough, she’d tell them, they belonged together.

As for her, she’d find somebody. She wouldn’t rush things, either. With a new lease on her future, she had her whole life ahead of her. Today was the first day of the rest of her life. A life she wanted filled with kids. A husband. Love.

The great plans to be an award-winning director had changed and she’d been too ashamed to admit she no longer wanted to be a woman of the world, but one of home and hearth.

She hadn’t wanted Zoann to be disappointed in her, in
any
area of her life. She’d even been afraid of what Kendall would say. Laying in a hospital bed, she got it. They were living their lives without apology.

Fee needed to live hers.

The opening door interrupted her introspection. She attempted to lift her head, but fell back in pain.

“Fee?”

A warm glow filled her as the tall, muscled man approached her bedside. Circles ringed his beautiful, blue eyes. “Cash,” she croaked, the sound rough, the rawness of her throat increasing her pain. She frowned at the continued glare of the sun.

Cash glanced in the direction of the blinds. “Who the fuck opened the blinds?”

Fee shrugged, unsure.

“Maybe, Outlaw. He came to see you earlier.” Cash bent and kissed her lips. His scent invaded her being. Puckering her lips, she returned his kiss, not caring about her oxygen tubes.

“You want to kiss?” he murmured, caressing her cheek, his fingers hot against her skin.

She nodded.

“Some other time,” he promised.

After they talked and she told him what she’d decided. Cash made her forget her name. To enjoy his kisses again, they’d need to come to a meeting of the minds.

She blinked and Cash left her side. A moment later, the bright sunlight disappeared.

At her side again, he kissed her once more. Enjoying his attention, she smiled.

“Fuck, Fee. I thought I’d lost you. If Stretch hadn’t gone to Noah’s house…Outlaw’s beyond furious. Can you tell me what happened?”

Remembering Noah’s viciousness, Fee shivered.
Kendall’s
call had prompted the attack. Retaliating Daphne’s death—thanks to Kendall’s tip—and gaining Christopher’s attention had been Noah’s goal. What would happen if he found out Fee had survived? Would he go after anyone else?

She grunted, wanting to say so much.

“Never mind. Focus on recovering right now.”

She laid her hand against the thick neck bandages. Her throat hurt. Then, she realized something. She’d talked. It might’ve been painful, but Noah hadn’t stolen her ability to speak.

“I-I t-talk.” Sounding like CJ made her want to smile.

Cash nodded. “Yeah, Fee. He missed your larynx, pharynx, carotid artery, and jugular vein. Everything vital. Has the doctor or a nurse seen you since you awakened?”

“N-not sure.”

“No more talking. You have to heal after your attack night before last. You were so bad off. Slit throat. Other stab wounds over various parts of your body. Severe beating.”

Standing, Cash raised a small remote-control-like device, attached to a thick wire that ran over the rails of her bed, leading to an unknown destination. “This is attached to a pump with a pain med,” he explained. “The dosage is controlled.” He held it out to her.

Fingers trembling, she took the device and pushed. “Hurts.”

“I’m sure it does. How bad?”

“B-bad—”

“Shhh.”

She glared at him and he chuckled.

“I need to shut the fuck up and stop asking questions if I don’t want you to talk.” He bent and kissed her lips. “Right, baby?”

Another question. She nodded, unable to stop her small smile.

“Fuck, Fee, I never thought I’d see that from you again.”

Before she answered, her door opened again, and Stretch and Christopher walked in. As her brother paused and stared at Cash, he dropped his hand from her hair.

Unreadable green eyes stared at Cash. “Lemme talk to you, motherfucker. Stretch, sit with Fee a fuckin’ minute.”

“N-no, w-wait,” Fee choked out.

All three of them ignored her. Stretch hobbled toward the chair, his gaze traveling from Fee to Outlaw, his concern obvious. When he looked at Cash, though, he flushed.

“Motherfuck me,” Christopher said with a sigh.

“Outlaw, there’s nothing going on. I’m here as Fee’s friend and nothing more,” Cash snapped, disappointing Fee.

Her small, lingering hope that his kisses kindled, disintegrated.

The opening door prevented Christopher’s response.

It took Fee a moment to recognize the emblems on the stranger’s cut. At the same time she gasped, his colors registered with Cash and Christopher.

The man sprinted into the hallway, while her brother took off after him, Cash hot on his heels. Stretch drew his gun, then hopped to the door, as shocked as the rest of them that a member of the Torpedoes MC had walked into her room.