Misfit (Death Dwellers MC #6) (70 page)

Stretch trembled, petrified. Cash shook, enraged. Their different expressions told it all and Christopher understood both of their angles. Stretch was just getting his sense of self back and these motherfuckers were fucking with his head again. Never mind that Christopher wanted to fuck him up because of Fee.

“Outlaw,” Slipper slurred when he noticed Christopher from across the room.

“Untie them,” Christopher ordered, moving forward.

Mink shook his head. “Nah, Outlaw. I think we need to put them out of their misery. What do you say, brother?”

“This.” Without another word, Christopher took out his nine and shot the fuck out of Mink, stepping aside as the motherfucker crumpled to the ground. He aimed at Fritz. “I ain’t repeatin’ my motherfuckin’ self. Untie these two motherfuckers
now
.”

His hand trembling, Slipper drained his bottle. “Untie them, boy!” he yelled in a shaky voice.

Christopher nodded to the body on the floor. “Drag this motherfucker front and center. Church in a hour.”

No one said a motherfucking word as the podium was brought out and Christopher’s gavel was set on top. His anger increased when he heard his boy’s disappointment that he wouldn’t be home anytime soon. Diesel promised to entertain CJ, but that wasn’t cutting it. Mort, Digger, Val, and Johnnie grumbled at the phone call to get the fuck to the clubhouse. Digger was the furthest away. He’d taken Bunny to lunch. Fine with Christopher. It gave the other local members a chance to arrive.

“Aww fuck, man,” Mort said when he stepped into the room and saw Mink’s dead ass, and Cash, Stretch, and Slipper.

Johnnie glared at Cash. Undaunted, Cash glowered back.

“Lock the fuckin’ door,” Christopher ordered Digger. “Don’t need Megan or my boy comin’ in and seein’ this dead motherfucker.”

Usually, Christopher needed a minute to get everybody’s attention, but dead fuck did the trick. A fucking pin could’ve dropped and it would’ve been heard. He called the meeting to order, laid his nine on the podium, then scowled at Slipper.

“Tell me the fuckin’ reason my treasurer and explosive’s technician got tied the fuck up,” he opened.

“They were fucking each other,” Slipper announced.

“Don’t say shit that’ll get you fucked up,” Cash fumed.

“Shut the fuck up, Ghost,” Christopher demanded, fed the fuck up. He narrowed his eyes at Slipper. “Ghost right, motherfucker. Lies get a motherfucker fucked the fuck up.”

Slipper licked his lips. “Not no lies, Outlaw. They were in Cash’s room arguing.”

“We fucking argue all the time,” Val clapped back. “That don’t mean shit.”

“Not with us,” Slipper insisted. “With them, it do. Stretch was at Cash’s when you sent me to get him, Outlaw. The day Fee was stabbed up. I heard his voice and saw his bike. When Cash walked out of his bedroom, he was fucking naked.”

Christopher hadn’t known that. Still, that wasn’t a motherfucker’s business.

“This shit ending today,” he snarled. Stupid motherfuckers was the goddamn bane of society. “We each other’s brothers. We ain’t here to fuck up
each other
, if a motherfucker ain’t commitin’ a grave offense. We about brotherhood.”

He let that hang in the air before he lifted his piece, stepped over Mink’s body, then walked amongst his members. “Slipper, if you woulda walked up on them fuckin’, what the fuck you woulda done?”

“Brought them in to you.”

Everybody knew he’d fucked up Cowboy and crew. Speculations as to why ran fucking rampant, but nothing had ever been confirmed. It ranged from him finding Cowboy fucking another motherfucker to the fucking truth, so, of course, Slipper would expect turning Cash and Stretch into Christopher was the right thing.

At least, he hadn’t said he’d kill them.

Christopher looked at Slipper’s eldest son, Orange. His ma must’ve known he’d patch in when she named him. “What the fuck you woulda done?”

Orange nodded in the direction of Slipper, chewing gum. “Called Daddy.”

Who, in turn, would’ve called Christopher. Fucking fine. Still not murder. Christopher went to Slipper’s youngest. “You, Fritz?”

“Called Orange.”

Obviously, a chain-of-fucking command amongst the rancid motherfucker and his sons. They were overzealous but controllable.

Christopher stared at Mink’s cousin, already knowing the motherfucker would be a problem, just because Christopher had blasted Mink the fuck away. It didn’t matter that they were amongst Orange and Fritz’s inner circle. They answered to each other. “You, Rock?”

“Shot them like Mink said.”

That’s what the fuck Christopher thought. To save bullshit later, he shot the motherfucker
now
.

Orange hurried to Slipper and hid behind him, as Slipper yanked Fritz out of Christopher’s line of fire.

“Ain’t shootin’ another motherfucker at the moment,” Christopher announced with disgust, not impressed with Fritz and Orange cowering behind Slipper. “At least not fuckin’ yet.” He walked amongst the members, looking each one of them in the eye. Not a motherfucker spoke. Not even his boys. They knew he was on fucking edge after being cooped up for seven fucking days and away from Megan. “I just ask motherfuckers to respect each fuckin’ other. That I gotta police grown as men and be your fuckin’ conscience—” such as it was, “ain’t amusin’ to my ass. I fucked up Mink and Rock cuz even if I woulda told them to get the fuck outta my club, they woulda been startin’ shit. I ain’t got time for that.”

“Only a few motherfuckers worry about that, Prez,” Mort said, then scowled at Slipper. “Like your meddling ass, son.”

“Lemme ask you, Slipper. If you was prez and you had a motherfucker you thought fucked men, what the fuck would you do?”

“Kick them out,” Slipper said with vehemence. “I wouldn’t want to offend my other members.”

“Ain’t good e-fuckin-nuff.” This argument would last for-fucking-ever. “I’ma give every-fuckin-body the chance to get the fuck up and patch the fuck out if you ain’t respectin’ another man the right to fuck any consentin’ adult motherfucker.”

As long as it wasn’t his sister or his daughter being fucked over by cheating motherfuckers.

Walking back to the podium, he returned his nine to the spot next to the gavel, then took his seat at his table. He wanted everyone to see that his piece wasn’t near him, so they’d be honest in their responses.

“Whoever got a problem if what Slipper think he saw real, come up. Patch out. No hard fuckin’ feelins. At the moment, you still fuckin’ members, so same fuckin’ rules apply for church. Don’t open your fuckin’ mouth about a motherfuckin’ thing we talked about at this fuckin’ meetin’.”

Five of the sixty brothers in attendance came up. Slipper and his sons weren’t amongst them.

Christopher got to his feet again. “Digger, take them to my office.”

After Digger guided the men out, Christopher returned to the podium and looked at his members again. He wanted to be absolutely sure they understood his position. “I’ma give you motherfuckers one more fuckin’ chance to get out. You stay, you leavin’ Ghost and Stretch in peace. Ghost got his fuckin’ limits. Like me. Stretch a quiet motherfucker. Been through a lot. We fuckin’ protect our own. Ghost and Stretch friends. Good friends.
Best
friends. More than that, they
my
fuckin’ friends. You all my fuckin’ brothers, but each got motherfuckers we close with. We each got motherfuckers know all about us.
My
boys is Johnnie, Mort, Digger, Val, Ghost, and Stretch. Under-fuckin-stand? Ain’t meanin’ I wouldn’t kill to fuckin protect all of you motherfuckers.
Any
of you motherfuckers.” It just meant he’d take just a
slight
more of their bullshit. “As my boys and your brothers, I expect you to protect Ghost and Stretch from every-fuckin-body. You ain’t their enemies. That mean, you stay in my fuckin’ club and if what Slipper say turn out to be true, you look the other fuckin’ way. Or…” He glanced at the two dead motherfuckers, allowing it to go unspoken that if they stayed and fucked over him, they’d be fucked up, too. “You can
see
them fuckin’ and you keep fuckin’ walkin’. You hear fuckin’ rumors and you squash them motherfuckers. You
spread
fuckin’ rumors and I’ma fuck you up. Hear me?”

“So they are lovers?” Bowlie called.

Christopher had as much said so, but if motherfuckers was that stupid and couldn’t read between the fucking lines, he would leave it up to Cash and Stretch to fill in the blanks.

“Didn’t my ass say it ain’t fuckin’ matterin’? You either their brother or you ain’t. Case fuckin’ closed.”

Bowlie nodded.

“Mort, get rid of these two dead motherfuckers. Cash, go calm the fuck down. Stretch, you safe. Now, any more questions?”

No one answered. He looked at his table. Johnnie shrugged, appearing bored.

“Then meetin’ ad-fuckin-journed.

An hour after the meeting ended, Cash sat with Outlaw and the others at the table, going over the events of the morning. Stretch’s appearance had caught him off-guard. He’d been in his room to rest from the busy morning he’d had. When he’d opened the door and let Stretch in, he hadn’t thought of the suspicious motherfuckers always lurking in the background. Then, when Stretch told him why he was there he really hadn’t thought of anything. At first, he’d been furious. However, as he thought about Fee and Stretch—losing them—he realized he didn’t have time to follow through on his plan to get Outlaw’s family behind him before he took his case to the man himself.

Before any solution had been reached, Slipper brought his ass to Cash’s room. Fuck! Fee had survived but he had almost gotten fucked up. He knew the incident affected Stretch. They all knew it and Cash was sure that’s why they were there with him, passing a bud around and making small talk.

“Bruh!” Digger said with a hoot of laughter. “Look who the fuck the cat dragged in.”

Cash looked up as Brooks and Charlotte Redding approached the table.

Leaning back, Outlaw inhaled the smoke from the bud, then passed it to Val, not saying a word. The man’s trigger finger never wore out, so Brooks must have a death wish.

Johnnie bared his teeth. He wanted those two motherfuckers dead more than Outlaw did because they’d enabled Kendall’s bad behavior. “Well, Mr. and Mrs. Redding,” he said with heavy sarcasm. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

Brooks ignored Johnnie and focused on Outlaw. His face was bruised and swollen, and his eyes were as red as his wife’s. They looked unkempt and disheveled. Exhausted. “O-Outlaw.”

Outlaw glanced at Charlotte. She looked dazed and traumatized, scared as hell. “What the fuck you want, motherfucker?” he finally asked.

“I-I…O-Outlaw…m-my h-house burned down—”

“For real?” Val said.

“Yeah, tell us something we don’t know, dick skin,” Cash told him.

“It’s all over the fucking news, son,” Mort announced. He had the bodies in the meatshack, but he was enjoying Herb and Al before he saw to their disposal. “Your house and office gone. Son-in-law missing. They think you had mob ties.”

“Why the fuck you here?” Digger snapped.

“We have nowhere to go,” Brooks said, tears sliding down his cheeks. His wife released a sob and he pulled her to him. “My cards aren’t working. I don’t want to risk going to my children.”