Misled (8 page)

Christopher frowned at the sound of Mortician’s voice coming from his room.

What the fuck?

A
pissy mood already possessed him after he’d barreled through the main room feeling the weight of everyone’s stares boring into him. It wasn’t so much him as it was the punk ass shiny balloon with the words ‘
happy birthday
’ and the ridiculous fucking teddy bear he carried while gripping a grocery bag in the other hand. Thank fuck, his brothers couldn’t see the cupcakes and birthday card inside.

He intended to bring this to Megan, then get the other bags from his pickup. The pair of boots he’d bought her as a gift and all the shit for colds he’d bought at the drugstore.

Reaching his bedroom, he pushed open his door and halted. Closed his eyes. Counted to three. Opened the motherfuckers again. Found the same scene. Two assholes, Val and Digger, staring at Megan naked and in another asshole’s arms. Mortician swallowed and Christopher saw the moron contemplate releasing his hold on her. Yeah, Mortician
really
thought about letting her fall to the fucking floor—because clearly she wasn’t awake with the way her arm fell like a limp noodle. Even though Christopher intended to break Mortician’s fucking fingers for holding her—continuing to hold her—he’d kneecap the idiot if he dropped her.

“One of you better fuckin’ start talkin’.”

Surprise turned to shock when they saw what he held. He stopped long enough to set the teddy bear and balloon on his table, then grabbed Megan from Mortician, stalked to his bed and laid her gently down.

Fuck him…
he swallowed, his body tightening at the sight of the golden curls between her thighs, her flat belly, her round breasts. Her pigtails hardened him even further, made her look sweet and untouched and vulnerable. Her flushed skin percolated with heat, the smell of his soap and shampoo rising in dry waves from her body. He liked that she smelled like him, but he wanted her to smell like
him
, his cum, his sweat.

“She has fever,” Mortician said, standing across the room and out of Christopher’s reach. “I caught her on her way to a meeting with the concrete.”

Christopher touched her forehead, ran his knuckles along her lower lip. “How you get in here while she’s naked?”             

Silence. Abso-motherfuckin-lutely. He glanced over his shoulder, narrowed his eyes. “I fuckin’ told you, assfuck, to ask her what the fuck she wanted to eat and give her my other fuckin’ messages about these two fuckin’ morons. Seems a big fuckin’ leap between those instructions and what I’m seein’.” He stalked to Mortician. “All I’m sayin’ is some fuckin’ body
better start explainin’ or bodies are gonna shatter. I’ll pause at the cock tip and end with brain matter. Speak,” he roared. “
Now.
”

“We wasn’t thinking, Outlaw,” Digger started. “We just wanted to tell her who we was and let her know what each of us was here for.”

They exchanged glances. Val drew in a breath and stepped forward, head bowed, all but cowering in submission. If the motherfucker had a tail, it would’ve been tucked between his legs.

Christopher folded his arms.

“We didn’t knock. Not out of disrespect,” Val swore and rolled his shoulders. “We just wasn’t thinking. I was anxious to get the fuck to my bitch and I didn’t want her holding me up, so we just barged in.”

“In my fuckin’ room. Knowin’ she was
where
? In my fuckin’ room. You fucks did this on purpose.”

Digger shrugged. “Ain’t like the bitch is yours.”

“Yeah,” Val agreed, grabbing onto Digger’s words like a lifeline. “I mean she’s Boss’s daughter.”

Something he wanted to forget. Will away. Find a fucking genie and wish it wasn’t so.

He clenched his jaw and stalked to his drawers, finding a T-shirt for her. He slid it over her head and got her arms through the short sleeves, making sure clothes covered her. His shirt reached her to her knees. He scooped her into his arms.

Whether he liked it or not, Megan had to go to the fucking hospital. He only hoped his sister wasn’t working.

Christopher didn’t know why he bothered with wishes. The last time one came true was when he was twelve and his mother bought him a skateboard he’d wanted.

Zoann
was
on duty. Even worse, she was Megan’s ER nurse.

When she stepped into the curtained off space where Megan lay on the gurney, she paused.

“Christopher?” she whispered and rushed into his arms. She was twenty-six, the third of his five sisters. She had big brown eyes and rich brown hair, a beauty, a bitch, and a bother. Unmarried with no kids, she kept her nose where it didn’t belong.

He barely remembered the man who’d fathered his sisters. Vague instances of care and concern came to his mind on rare occasions from an average-sized man with average looks. An encouraging smile. A game of flag football. Bicycle lessons. Like everything good in Christopher’s lif
e, all too soon the man left, while his mother was still pregnant with Ophelia, his youngest sister.

After that
, the girls started spending more time with their grandparents, a place where Christopher wasn’t welcomed. No doubt, their grandfather contributed to Zoann’s self-righteous bitchiness.

She pursed her lips and sniffed.
“Where’ve you been? Mama—“

“We’ll talk,” he interrupted, not wanting to discuss their mother. “Please, see to Megan first.”

“Okay,” she said softly. She worked in silence for a few minutes, broken only when she asked about Megan’s illness.

He knew he was in for a grilling. Questions brimmed in
Zoann’s eyes. She’d always been nosy and he suspected curiosity kicked the fuck out of her right now.

“And you said you don’t know who assaulted her?”

“Nope. Sure don’t.”

She rocked back on her heels. She didn’t believe him. He didn’t give a fuck. It just reminded him of another reason he hadn’t brought Megan in. She didn’t know the score, so she might blab Rack’s involvement. Not that Rack didn’t need handling, but Christopher wanted to do it his way and after he found out who the fuck else worked with Rack.

He should’ve just left Megan by that creek. Or thrown her the fuck in so she could join the father she searched for. Then, again, maybe no. Boss was burning in hell. Megan deserved a place in heaven.

“Don’t gotta get law enforcement in this,” he warned. “Hear,
Zoann?”

Her mouth drew in like she’d sucked a lemon. “I’ll see what I can do, Christopher.”

His ass she would. He narrowed his eyes at her. “Just remind them there’s some little kids in this buildin’ who want that fat fuckin’ bastard in the red suit to bring ‘em toys. Last I remembered, my club plunked down a few Gs to get it done.”

She nodded and turned to leave, then stopped and drew in a deep breath. “I have two hours before my shift ends. Would you meet me so we can talk?”

Christopher frowned. “I’m hangin’ ‘round ‘til Megan’s ready to leave.”

“She’s been admitted. Didn’t the doctor tell you?”

“She’s that bad off?” He glanced at Megan. She looked so fragile.

“Yes. She is.”

As much as he hated hospitals, he supposed he was stuck there for a while.

By the time
Zoann’s shift ended, Megan had been moved to a room, antibiotics dripping into her and oxygen hooked to her while machines measured her blood pressure, pulse, and heart rate. The constant beeping worked Christopher’s last nerve and, more than anything, he needed a smoke.

To him, hospitals ranked up there with being buried alive. It wasn’t for him.

Zoann pushed opened the door and stepped in, letting a moment’s glare in from the bright hallway lights.

He stood as she tipped to the bed and stared at Meggie.

“Are you bringing her home to meet Momma?”

Christopher eyed his sister with wariness. It was always a mistake to take
Zoann’s words at face value. “What the fuck you talkin’ ‘bout, Zoann? It ain’t like that between Megan and me.”

Zoann
bit her bottom lip. “Then why are you her guarantor? Responsible for paying her bills.”

“Her mother’s in Seattle, that’s why.”

“Her last name is Foy. Is she related to Big Joe?”

“Jesus, Mary, and
all that is fuckin’ holy, you a nosy bitch.” He thrust his fingers through his hair, surprised when her face crumpled. “Fuck, Zoann. Yeah. This is Big Joe’s girl. She’s lookin’ for him.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Where is he?”

“Zoann—“ he began. He clamped his mouth shut, not wanting to argue with his sister or say words he’d regret.

“You know where he is,” she accused. “I know you do. Big Joe disappeared and you suddenly decided to turn away from us. The two are related. I know they are. It’s your business if you want to throw your life away. But you’ve hurt Momma. Where is he, Christopher? Where have you been?”

“I don’t need the third fuckin’ degree from you. Club business is club business. Case closed.”

She fisted her hands on her hips
. “Isn’t it time you left that miserable club? While you still can. Before something bad happens.”

A mountain of fucking bad had already happened.

“Momma’s so sad. She just wants to hear your voice.”

If he were honest, he missed his mother, too. But he’d caused enough
damage in her life. He didn’t want to taint her by all the shit he’d done.

“I’ll call her when I have the time.”

“You have Momma living two hours away, Christopher,” she stormed. “Shit has to be bad.”

It had gotten much worse in the two years since he’d moved his mother to the house he owned on the Pacific Coast. He glanced at Megan. He needed to speak to her, find out just what the fuck was going on with her stepfather. If he couldn’t send he
r home to her mother, maybe he
would
send her to his.

“Johnnie got out,” Zoann
persisted, referring to their cousin. “You can, too.”

Not reall
y. John Boy had gone nomad. He now ran their medical laboratory. His preppy look made him the perfect choice to work at the lab. They made legitimate money because doctors found all kinds of reason to order blood work, and piss and shit samples. So while their relatives believed Johnnie was out of the life, the club family knew better.

“I ain’t leavin’,” he growled. “For you. Ma. No fuckin’ body.”

“No because you’re nothing but a piece of trash like Granddaddy always said,” she spat.

He was used to these words from various members of his family. His sisters had never spoken to him like that, though. Not that he gave
a fuck. Besides, Zoann thought she had a valid reason for her anger. He’d dropped out of sight and hurt their mother. That still didn’t give his sister a right to spit out the words she knew had always hurt him the most. “Get the fuck outta here, you bitch.”

“I always hated when they said that about you. But watching Mo
mma this past year, I knew they had you figured out.”

Christop
her’s skin crawled in humiliation. Other than opening up to Megan, he’d pushed those years aside, all the hurt and shame he’d always experienced. Now, Zoann pulled up those memories and teased him with them, waving a red flag in front of the angry bull he’d become. Megan, a girl he’d never met until three days ago, offered a form of comfort. Whereas Zoann, the bitch he’d known all his life, scorned him.