Misled (13 page)

“I’m leaving.”

“Now?” the blond man asked.

God, he was gorgeous. Almost as tall as Christopher with silver-gray eyes and a dangerous air. Muscles popped through his clothes as he moved toward her with effortless grace. Christopher had a harder edge with none of this man’s laugh lines. He stopped in front of her and she gripped the sides of her chair.

“You intend to leave now? When he’s finally awake.”

Meggie lifted her chin. “Yes,” she hissed, “
now
. As soon as you let me by.” She got to her feet and forced him back. He refused to give her too much ground, so her body still brushed against his. She scowled at him. “Who are you, anyway, that whether I leave or stay is any of your business?”

“I gotta admit this bitch got fire,” Ellen said. A hint of grudging admiration laced the words.

“Yes, she does.” A slow smile started across the mouth of the man who stood in front of her. “I’m Johnnie, by the way. Outlaw’s cousin.”

“Whatever.”
She squirmed past him, unable to fathom why she noticed anything about this man when she felt so hurt over Christopher’s treatment of her. And his words…she hated to admit they appalled and enthralled her in equal measure, although she was certain his current condition caused him to speak about making love to her and getting her pregnant and all of the other crazy, outrageous things he’d said. Though she had no means to support a baby, the idea held appeal to her for her own selfish reasons. He wanted a child to carry on his genes. She just wanted someone to love her. “If you’ll excuse me,” she threw over her shoulder, determined to get to the elevator. She didn’t owe any of these people an explanation. Let the lunatic in the hospital bed explain.

“C’mon, Meggie girl,” Mortician called. “
We had to force you to leave his side for one night to get proper Zs. After that, you left his side for all of four hours. You demanded a way be found to get you to stay in here with him. Ain’t taking a brain surgeon to know Outlaw pissed you off when he woke up. Whatever he told you, though, he ain’t meaning it.”

Once she told them Christopher told her to leave, they’d ha
ve to let her go. For them, his word was law. “He told me to leave.” She didn’t mean to allow her hurt to come through. Neither was she sure why she was so hurt. Maybe, she’d attached herself to Christopher because he served as a link to her father. Or, maybe, to her, he epitomized a man who’d never force her to do all the things Thomas intended but wouldn’t hesitate to take what she offered. He’d allow it to be on her terms. Or, maybe, the inherent goodness she saw in him, and the protection he gave to her when he didn’t have to, made his rejection so crushing. She hugged her arms around her waist. “He doesn’t want me around him anymore.”

She moved
to leave again. Johnnie stepped in front of her.

“Move!” she snarled, trying to shove him away.

Amusement lit his eyes. Genuine amusement, not the sardonic kind Christopher normally had.

“No.”

He tweaked her nose and Meggie had the urge to cuff him on the side of his head. “Uh, uh, uh,” he admonished, wagging a long finger at her. “Violence gets you nowhere, Megs.”

“If you don’t move or shut up or both, I’m going to punch you,” she vowed. The reprobate laughed harder at her.

“Christopher and Johnnie are the only two penises to be born into the family in the last thirty-three years,” Zoann informed her. “Instead of making them gentlemen, it has turned them into complete dickheads.”

Val
chuckled. Out of the corner of her eye, Meggie noticed Zoann flush a pretty pink.

“You two are pathetic,” Mortician observed. “If I was you,
Val, I’d keep my dick outta Zoann.”

“Fuck you,”
Val snapped.

“No, thank you. ‘Preciate the offer, though.”

“May I leave now?” Meggie asked no one in particular, although Johnnie still blocked her.

“No.”

The chorus startled her. “He doesn’t want me here,” she reminded them.

“Uh, yeah, he does,” Digger said. “He been
jonesin’ for your pussy since you first arrived.”

“It’s not my pussy he has the problem with,” Meggie mumbled.

“He wants the rest of you, too, girl,” Digger called in exasperation.

Heat rushed to Meggie’s cheeks that they’d
overheard her comment.

“You just a young bitch,” Digger went on, shifting in his seat and stretching his long legs out. “Feel me? Reckless, too. You have the makins of a real sexy bitch. A dude hit your pussy two, three times, you’ll find your sexy and you gonna be one bad bitch.”

Having been around these men for the past few days inured her to their unique phrases. She should’ve been insulted or embarrassed or both. She wasn’t either.

Digger rested his hands behind his head and leaned back. “Outlaw got sisters so he try to do right by bitches. I think he know if he fuck you, he gonna say ba-bye to any other pussy. A man gotta come to terms with just seein’ one pussy the rest of his life. Know what I’m sayin’?”

Sorta. Kinda. Still…”That isn’t true. Christopher already has a girlfriend, anyway.”

Zoann
frowned. “He does?”

Mortician folded his arms and threw her a mocking look. “Says who?”

Digger laughed so loud Meggie glanced around, waiting for security to arrive and escort them out. “Where the bitch at?”

Meggie pulled her attention away from Rack’s silent
scrutiny of the entire scene. She still didn’t trust him, although she needed to take more care in her accusations, especially now when she wouldn’t have Christopher around to prevent Rack from harming her.

“Well, Megs, who is she?”

She nodded her head in the direction of Ellen and Kiera. “Kiera,” she answered.

Ellen bristled. “You think?” she called sharply.

Meggie glared at the annoying woman.

Johnnie grabbed Meggie around the waist. “Slow down, hellcat. And, Ellen, keep the fuck quiet.”

“Meggie, that’s the stupidest fuckin’ idea I done ever heard cross your lips,” Digger snorted. “Them bitches don’t belong to him. Kiera might give him pussy but she get dick from whoever else is willin’ to put it on her.” He winked. “Most recently, me.”

Ellen laughed while Kiera made a sound of distress as jealousy burned through Meggie.

Digger wasn’t finished. “He ain’t bringin’ no loose pussy home to Miz Patricia, his momma,” he clarified at Meggie’s silent question. “You, on the other hand, yeah. He’ll bring you home and show you off. Mark my words. Ain’t gonna happen, though, if you skulk off like a frightened bitch.”

Resting her fingers on Johnnie’s forearm and leaning back against his chest,
Meggie pondered Digger’s words, unsure if she had the nerve to stay after Christopher’s conversation. On the other hand, where else did she have to go? And, even after identifying Christopher as a certifiable madman, she wanted him. She wanted to feel as special as she had when he’d given her her birthday gifts and brought her the cupcakes. Though she hadn’t wanted the boots since Kiera had the same pair, she had them on because she had no other shoes to wear. He’d at least thought about that. She wanted to snuggle into his side like she did whenever he decided to sleep next to her in his bed.

“She must feel good in your fuckin’ arms, John Boy,” Mortician said, scra
tching his jaw. His dreads tied back made the diamond studs he wore in his ears more noticeable. “Your arm been pressin’ against her tit for fifteen minutes now.”

Without a word, Johnnie released her. His dancing gaze drew the evil eye from her. He winked. She blushed.

Sitting down, she drew her knees to her chest, resting her head on them. She hoped she wasn’t making a mistake by listening to Digger instead of heeding the words Christopher had spoken.

Meggie sighed. Only time would tell.

Christopher
opened his eyes, a steady beep resounding in his head. Pain careened along his nerve endings and an antiseptic smell gathered in his nostrils.

He
wondered at the time. Kiera’s head lulled as she sat in a chair next to his bed, her dark hair curtaining her features. The harsh taste of the various medicines filled his dry mouth and he groaned.

Kiera jolted up and blinked,
glancing around as if she needed to get her bearings.

Finally, she turned to him and a huge smile curved her mouth.
“Hey, baby.”

As much as he liked
Kiera, he didn’t want her with him right now. “Yo’.”

She jumped to her feet and hugged him. “I been so worried about you.” Her hands skimmed over his body, bypassing his wounded shoulder and traveling down his stomach. “I thought I’d never hear your voice again. Taste your dick again.”

What the fuck? He’d gotten shot up and this bitch was worrying about tasting his dick?

He gazed around the room, searching for Megan and knowing he wouldn’t find her since he’d sent her away. It disappointed him she’d listened to him
now
.

Fuck it. He’d sent Megan away for her own good. In the big picture, Kiera was a sweet girl, just the type of girl he deserved and wanted. Sweet but not innocent. Tough but not vicious.

He tried to imagine Kiera pregnant for him, but the thought didn’t jive, refused to form completely.

She covered his mouth with hers, spearing her tongue against his. Christopher turned his head away, not really feeling Kiera at the moment.

“Whatcha doin’ here?”

She reached over and thumbed his lips. “I been here all night. Everybody else left.”

“How long I been here?” One of the questions he’d meant to ask Megan before he’d been a dickhead and sent her away. The nurse had come in, not long after Megan left, and told him he’d been there five and a half days. Since Christopher didn’t know how long he’d been sleeping this time around, he wanted to find out.

“Six days.”

What?
“What the fuck you mean? A week?”

“Just what I said,” she said with a frown.
“Six days. Almost a week.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. There
wasn’t no motherfucking way—

Fuck! He shoved the covers aside, intending to stand and find his clothes. Check himself the f
uck out. Bullshit like a week-long hospital stay was just the shit Rack needed to assume control of the club.

“What are you doing?” Kiera cried, jumping back
.             

“Gettin’ the fuck outta
here. I can’t believe this shit.”

“You were shot—“

“I was fuckin’ wounded. A flesh fuckin’ wound.”

“You lost a lot of blood and slipped into unconsciousness on the way here.”

“How the fuck did I end up unconscious for a goddamn week?”

She shrugged, the import of his absence escaping her. Of course it
would. What the fuck did she know any-fucking-way?

Monitors were beeping, the cu
ff of the blood pressure machine inflating. Numbers were blinking in red. He felt dizzier than a motherfuck, but so-fucking-what?

The door crashed open and several nurses rushed in. “Mr. Caldwell! You have to return to bed.”

“No,” he gritted. “I gotta get to my fuckin’ club.”

“Christopher! Christopher, please settle down.”

As two male nurses lunged at him to wrestle him back onto the bed, he glared at Kiera. “How the fuck I got in this fuckin’ place any goddamn way?”

“That girl
.”

Megan, she meant.
He slapped the hand of one of the grasping nurses away.

“Listen to me,” she said urgently, turning a blind eye to Christopher’s struggles. “Rack is your Judas. He’s feeding information to Snake. I’m sure
. Just like I know you been thinking.”

“Don’t fuckin’ try to figure me out, Kiera,” he snapped, elbowing the persistent fucks.

“I saw him and that girl talking. I think she helped him.”

That startled Christopher so much, he stilled, giving the two fuckers a chance to subdue him.

“No fuckin’ way! Megan wouldn’t do shit like that.”

“Think about it,” Kiera went on. “Her appearance outta nowhere. And she’s Boss’
s daughter. She just happened to show up right around the first anniversary of his death. She’s innocent, huh? Then why don’t she question nothing about our lifestyle? She just took to it like a duck to fucking water.”

Every cell in Christopher’s body rebelled at the idea of Megan working with Rack, and, possibly, Snake.
But, fuck him, Kiera had a point. Megan hadn’t been born into this shit. Yet…yet, she’d just went with the flow.

“Calm down, baby,” Kiera cooed.

Christopher would’ve responded but one of those nurse bitches pumped something into his IV. He only hoped he didn’t get a fucking concussion when he hit the fucking floor. His last conscious thought was Kiera’s yelp of pain and the blurry vision of her flailing arms.

Well, fuck.

The next time Christopher awakened, the room was dark and quiet. The opened curtains revealed the night. He couldn’t see anything else, though. His head pounded and his mouth tasted as if his tongue was made of cotton. He covered his face with both hands and cursed. He needed to get the fuck out of here.

Yea
h, you fucking genius, we already established that
.

Christopher scowled at the random thought. He wondered how long he’d been out this time. Another fucking week?

“Christopher?” a soft voice said, startling him.

Megan. What was it with this girl? Why the fuck couldn’t she fucking
leave
? Why the fuck did he want her to
stay
? Megan was the wildcard. Boss’s daughter, who’d arrived just a few days before Snake’s attempted takedown. The shit Kiera said made a lot of sense.

He glared at Megan.
“Get the fuck outta here, you fuckin’ bitch. You set me the fuck up.”

Her gentle look vanished and her mouth fell open.
“
What
?” she screeched, high color blooming in her cheeks. “Set you up? Like I worked with those men to have you killed?”

He nodded.

“Jerk!” she yelled. “If I’d set you up, I would’ve finished you when I found you all shot up. And I wouldn’t have brought you to the hospital!”

The sudden glare of the light directly behind his bed made him blink. Once his eyes adjusted, he noticed her standing as still as a statue, to his right. He reached his arm out and pulled her next to
his bed. Her hair clipped up, she wore the clothes he’d bought her for her birthday. She looked tired and sad and alone. And young. So fucking young, he wondered if she had permission to be in the room with him. Of course, she did. He knew she did.

“You show up outta the fuckin’
blue and—“

“It wasn’t out of the blue, Christopher,” she murmured, his given name the sweetest sound he’d ever heard coming from her lips.

His head pounded in confusion and he wanted to be alone, not have those blue eyes appeal to him like a beacon to his dark soul. “Don’t fuckin’ call me by my name.”

A frown creased her brow. “W-why? Is there a warrant out for your arrest?”

Christopher rolled his eyes and snorted. Was she for real? “I been laid up in this motherfucker for how long? Under
my real goddamn name
? If there was a warrant out, chances are high, someone would’ve been clued in as to my whereabouts.”

“You’ve been here si
x days.”

“Six fuckin’
days too long.”

“No, it
isn’t. Rack is looking after things.”

Christopher just bet he was.

“I had no choice but to bring you here. You were dying.”

“And? You don’
t fuckin’ know me. Perhaps, I wanted to fuckin’ die.”

She stared at him and Christopher braced himself for some inane bullshit. Words like, ‘of course you don’t want to die’ and ‘you don’t really mean that’. The fuck he didn’t.

“I understand. Recently, I’ve wanted to die, too.”

That statement
shouldn’t have shocked the shit out of him. She was gorgeous, well-spoken, and brave. She had everything to live for. At this very moment, she should be out with some little preppy fuck, talking about college and careers. She shouldn’t be stuck in this fucking hospital room with him. As if she had any other choice. She had a step fuckhead who needed taking care of and a dead father whose protection she needed.

“Yeah? Why?”

She shrugged. “I’ve never been away from my mother for more than a day or two. And—and I’ve never been on my own.”

As much as Christopher wanted to punk out and go the bitch ass route by pointing the finger at Megan, he couldn’t. A made-up argument might get her away from him but it would put her right back in danger. No
, the shooting at the clubhouse had been brewing long before Megan arrived.

“I had to leave,” she stressed. “For the reasons you guessed.”

She swallowed, frowned, looked away. Swallowed again, looking anywhere but at him, Christopher noted, admiration for her grit rolling in him.

“My stepfather. His groping had amped up from holding my hand against him. Um, his groin. To pinching my…my nipples and trying to…”

Her voice trailed off and she hunched her shoulders, but humiliation haunted her eyes and tightened her mouth.

“Tryin’
to rape you?” he finished for her, his voice neutral.

“Um, I-I suppose it w
ould’ve ended up that way. He l-liked to put his hand in…in my panties.”

R
emorse hit hard. Boss had been destroying himself, the club, and his son. Of course, Snake was born destroyed, missing the gene that gave him compassion.

Christopher might’ve fucking went from one woman to the next. And, yeah, he might not have been a fucking gentlemen to bitches all the time, but he’d never killed one for the hell of it to get his rocks off. And he certainly didn’t snort and shoot up the fucking merchandise.
Payoffs to the cops had become more and more exorbitant because Boss was fucking up right and left. So Christopher began quietly lobbying the brothers to do an intervention. As the Vice President, he wanted a coup. Overthrow Boss until the dude got his shit together. Let him detox. Get all the killing out of him. Make him be the man Christopher remembered and admired.

He hated Boss for making him have to
choose
between their lives. He hated Boss for turning a blind eye to his son’s actions, a stone cold fucking killer. He hated Boss for turning weak and strung out.

Christopher
knew the man had adored his daughter. Or had before his brain became fried. And, yet, Megan knew none of that. She believed her father could’ve protected her. In the last eighteen months of his life, he hadn’t been able to protect a club full of grown ass men. Not only that, in those last months, he hadn’t once mentioned his little girl. How fucking pathetic.

“I didn’t set you up.”

Her fingers slid through his hair and she stared at him. All Christopher saw was innocence and longing. Yeah, she hungered for him, but her desire for him overrode the baseness of pure lust. Something had to stop this freight train of disaster, careening at Mach 2 towards Christopher’s bed. He grabbed her face between his hands. “If you’re fuckin’ lyin’ to me…”

“I’m not. I swear.”

He believed her. Christopher knew how bitches tripped. Kiera could deal with him fucking Ellen, but, apparently, she didn’t like the thought of him being with Megan.

If he lived as long as Methuselah, he’d never understand bitches.
Especially the one who currently faced him down, more fearless of him than some men.

Fuck, did it really matter to him whether or not Megan knew Christopher killed her pops?
If he wanted her gone,
really wanted her gone,
confessing to his murder would send her the fuck away. But which way would she go? To the police? Back home, even though she was terrified of Thomas Nicholls?

He sidled a glance at her and squeezed the bridge of his nose.
“What you plannin’ on doin’ about the shootin’?”

Her throat worked. “I-I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yeah, you fuckin’ do.”

She shook her head, met his gaze. “Nothing,” she whispered. “Val explained things to me. How it works.” She licked her lips. “With law enforcement and the Death Dwellers.”

His nostrils flared and he searched her face for any signs she was having second thoughts about not speaking up.

“Does it bother you?” he questioned. “Men died.”

She looked away from him and shifted her weight. “This is…was Daddy’s club. If he…he r-ran it…if he t-took care of…k-killed men who in-invaded his t-turf,” she managed through sniffles.