Relentless: The Legacy Rises, page 15
“I wish they’d given me an emergency hysterectomy.”
Fuck, he wished it, too. She would’ve seen it as an immediate lifesaving measure. It would’ve been more palatable.
He wanted their surgeries over and done, Jo healed and home. With the hysterectomy, the bandage ripped from Megan, so she could recover in every way.
He wanted motherfucking Ryder, Ransom, and Axel sane. Because those little motherfuckers…
Fuck, he’d had so much responsibility heaped on him from twelve-years-old, when his sisters’ father was killed. His mother saw Christopher as the man of the house. Not that he minded. He owed it to her after she’d suffered so much because of his birth. Once he moved into the club and started earning money because of odd jobs, he gave her every penny to ease her burden.
His children had an easy life. Unfortunately, he’d never considered what would happen if a crisis arose and he and Megan couldn’t parent them properly. Somewhere, in his subconscious, he’d expected CJ to step in.
His boy had, and Christopher couldn’t have been prouder. But CJ was a kid. He’d been raised to enjoy his childhood, instead of becoming a man prematurely with the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Exactly what the fuck happened anyfuckingway.
All of his children had been neglected because he couldn’t keep his cock to himself. He just loved Megan so much. One of the many ways he expressed his feelings was by fucking her.
“Outlaw!”
Christopher jumped at the unexpected yell. He’d stopped in the doorway, lost in thought.
Grinning, he walked to the president of his Salt Lake City chapter and shook his hand. Seeing the man was manna from Heaven.
“Just the motherfucker I need to talk to, Skip,” he said, clapping him on the back. “A setup at my table,” he said to Potter, then nodded in that direction. “Come with me.”
Because every motherfucker wanted to talk to him, it took them almost twenty minutes to reach the table, where Johnnie already sat. The motherfucker looked pale and lonely.
Christopher didn’t give a fuck. “Let’s go in my office, Skip.”
“You got it, Prez.”
In his office, with the door closed and beers in hand, Christopher leaned back in his chair. “I got a job for you and your boys.”
Skip gulped beer, then set the bottle on the desk, and folded his arms. “Hit me.”
“The motherfuckin’ Scorps have a chapter in Utah. It’s like they’re in the middle of a fuckin’ desert out of range of GPS because Stretch can’t fuckin’ find them anywhere.”
Christopher couldn’t wait for Riley to get the fuck home.
“We have deserts close by, Outlaw. I can definitely look. If we find something, what do you want me to do?”
Christopher finished his beer. “Fuck, surveil, as long as you got cover. I don’t want to alert them to our presence or lose anybody. If it’s too fuckin’ dangerous to keep a fuckin’ eye on them, map how the fuck to get there and send me the information.”
Digging into his cut, Christopher got his set of keys, found the one he needed and unlocked the big drawer on the left side. He pulled out a wad of hundreds, set it on the desk, and slid it to Skip. “Yours.” He pulled out two more. “Divide amongst however many motherfuckers you put on the job.”
While Christopher secured his desk drawer, Skip stood and stuffed the cash into the interior pockets of his leather jacket.
“Me and the boys who made the trip here with me, planned to leave New Year’s Day. Should we change our itinerary and hit the road tonight?”
“It can wait,” Christopher said. Jo’s heart surgery would be done by then. They’d know… “Keep me updated,” he said in dismissal, nodding toward the door.
A minute later, he was alone. Before he could enjoy it, the opening door brought in Johnnie.
“Get the fuck out,” Christopher ordered.
Of course the motherfucker didn’t fucking listen. He never fucking listened. Kendall’s psycho cuntness had jumped from her to Johnnie.
“Kendall doesn’t want me to come home,” he said morosely. “She’s angry with me.”
“I am, too, so shut the fuck up and get the fuck out,” he repeated.
Arm in sling, Johnnie trudged to the chair Skip had sat in and plopped into it.
“How the fuck get the fuck out turn into you sittin’ the fuck down?”
“We’re family. My injuries should be a concern.”
“To me or her?”
“Both. Everyone. Only Rory and JJ have come to see me. No one else. Not Mattie. Not Kendall. Not Meggie.”
“It’s up to your bitch whether she want to visit you. My bitch at home sufferin’ cuz Jo’s real sick and need two surgeries.” Clenching his jaw, Christopher willed the sick feeling to go away. He willed the fear and the wetness in his eyes to leave him. “Of all the fuckin’ news I was expectin’ during her update, it wasn’t that.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his heart broken. “She’s such a small girl.”
A moment passed. Johnnie fucked with his cell phone and set it on the desk. Not that Christopher cared.
“I’m so sorry,” Johnnie said finally.
“Me, too,” Christopher admitted, his heart twisting in his chest. “I wish I could stay away from my wife. Do the rhythm thing ‘cuz if one fuckin’ thing come up, she forget her pills or to go in for her appointment for her shots when she switch to them.” Resting his elbows on his desk, he covered his face. He drew in another breath, dropped his hands and hung his head. “This shit tearin’ my heart the fuck out. I wish she never got pregnant again.” The admission made him feel like a fuckhead. His next left him feeling ever lower. “Or I wish she could have a normal pregnancy. Her complications not her fault. Neither are her pregnancies. That’s all on me.”
“She’ll be fine. She’ll have a hysterectomy; Jo will survive.”
He wanted to believe that so fucking bad. Megan and Jo had to come out on the other side of this. However, he could get them he didn’t care. As long as they were alive.
Johnnie leaned back and glanced toward the hallway, toward the open door. Insulation in the walls protected them from most of the noise, though a small amount still filtered in.
“I’m sure you wish Megan could have a normal pregnancy.”
“Or no pregnancy,” he said flatly, exhausted. “I wish…” Thinking of Megan and Jo sent tears to his eyes. He shook his head. “If I could turn back the hands of time, I would’ve had guards here. She wouldn’t have lost Patrick and I could enjoy the idea of waiting on our new baby without fucking worrying.”
Megan loved babies. No, she loved being pregnant by him. As much as he tried to rationalize why, he was no longer sure if it was psychological or just a plain fucking kink. They had a fucking soccer team and the only reason she’d get the hysterectomy was because of Jo’s current problems. Not because babies and kids were as expensive as a motherfucker. And not because he’d have to build an adjacent house to give the little motherfuckers a roof over their heads.
“Fuck, I would give my fuckin’ fortune just for her to have a fuckin’ normal pregnancy like she had with CJ.”
Just to see her smile and make her happy.
“And, now, because she’s such a stubborn lil’ motherfucker, Jo…” Might die.
Grabbing a Kleenex, he mopped his wet cheeks. Megan needed him to be strong. If he was distraught, she must’ve been gutted.
“She’s quite fucking selfish.”
Johnnie’s derisive words snapped Christopher back to reality. He narrowed his eyes. Fuck, he was falling apart. It hadn’t even occurred to him that he’d bared his soul to Johnnie. Once, it was a regular occurrence. Long before he discovered they were half-brothers and thought of Johnnie as his cousin, he’d loved, respected, and admired him.
He still loved him. Respect clung to a thread. And admiration died slow and painfully.
He jumped to his feet, pounded his fist on the desk, then braced his hands on the wood, leaning forward. “Don’t fuckin’ repeat a motherfuckin’ thing I just shared with you.”
Sighing, Johnnie swung his gaze to Christopher. “I deserve that. I won’t say anything to anyone.”
“Especially my Megan.” Defeat almost overwhelmed him. He straightened, not knowing what the fuck to do with himself. “What I said is fuckin’ treasonous, and are the words of a selfish, feeling-sorry-for-himself, ungrateful fuckhead.”
Johnnie clenched his jaw and looked away. “You have feelings, too, Christopher. We all need to vent.”
“Usually ain’t ventin’ to no motherfucker before I vent to Megan,” he raged, dropping heavily into his chair.
He needed the poison out of his head, and Johnnie was there. Mort long ago became Christopher’s confidante, and he his. Unfortunately, their family crises intersected.
“If Megan’s as vulnerable as she sounds right now, you can’t talk to her, can you?”
“Johnnie, I swear to fuckin’ Christ—” He closed his eyes, too weary for threats. Over the years, he’d made many toward Johnnie and the other motherfuckers close to him. Most he never followed through on. Words were enough, and Megan always talked him down. Soothed him. Or fucked him if the danger was great enough. He loved her ability to seduce control away from him. He loved her soft heart and soft words that calmed him. He loved…her.
Even as angry as he was that she still wanted fucking babies. He loved her from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet, and every place in between. And he simply hated how shattered he was because he couldn’t fix Jo and he couldn’t fix her.
“You were saying…?”
Christopher turned his head and stared at the wall, not caring about the tear sliding down his cheek. “Get the fuck out my fuckin’ office, Johnnie. That’s what the fuck I was sayin’.”
“I mean you or her no harm. I love her, too.”
He sure the fuck did. “Don’t. You got your bitch to love.”
“I’m not in love with Megan,” he snapped. “I love Kendall.”
“Ain’t sayin’ you don’t,” Christopher scoffed. Snatching another Kleenex and dabbing at his eyes, he glared at Johnnie. “I’m just sayin’ you torment my fuckin’ wife cuz you still want her.”
“If you really believed that, you would’ve killed me. Thinking of Kendall and my children’s devastation wouldn’t have saved me.”
“They didn’t this time. Megan saved you. She don’t want you fuckin’ dead.”
“But you do.”
“I don’t give a fuck one way or the other anymore,” he snarled. “A week ago, I would’ve said I wanted my Johnnie back. Cuz, motherfucker, you once meant everyfuckinthing to me.”
“Until you met Megan.”
“Are you a stupid motherfucker, an ignorant motherfucker, or a crazy motherfucker? Megan’s my girl, my woman, my life. She’s my all, but you?” He spat the word. “You were my best friend. You had my fuckin’ back. When I called on you, I knew the calvary was comin’. You were the most intelligent, funniest, bravest man I knew, and I was so fuckin’ proud of you.”
“You were jealous of me. To you, I’m nothing but a preppy motherfucker.”
“I was jealous of you with Megan. I never fuckin’ begrudged you one motherfuckin’ thing. You couldn’t be happy for me because I got her. I got somebody in my corner and she loved me for me, something I wanted my entire life, Johnnie, though I never thought I’d find it. But I did, and you hated me for it. You hated me because you loved her. You couldn’t believe she chose somebody like me over somebody like you. I was the devil and you the angel.”
“Christopher, I’m sorry—”
“Don’t. Ain’t nothin’ you can say. Especially not sorry unless you are. We both know you not.”
Johnnie bowed his head. “I am. I swear.”
“Get out, Johnnie,” Christopher said tiredly. “Just go.”
“Why won’t you believe me?”
“Motherfucker, I had to fuckin’ shoot you yesterfuckinday, for your bullshit, so get the fuck out my face. I had to beat the fuck outta you while she was still in the fuckin’ hospital. What the fuck do you mean? Why won’t I believe you?” Christopher scowled. “Never fuckin’ mind. You answered my fuckin’ question. You a stupid motherfucker with a little bit of ignorance and a whole lotta crazy thrown the fuck in.”
“You shouldn’t be alone,” Johnnie said, not responding to the assessment.
“I’m going for a spin to clear my head.”
“That’s dangerous in your current frame of mind.”
“As if you give a fuck.”
“I do.”
Christopher shrugged.
“Do you really think you should hop on your fucking bike when you’re sitting over there, regretting every fucking life decision you ever made?”
“I already said my ass is feeling sorry for myself. What the fuck do motherfucker’s do when they’re self-pitying fuckheads except question their fuckin’ choices?”
“So, what would you do different?” Johnnie challenged. “Not gone and blown-up Spoon’s clubhouse? Chained her to the fucking bed? Locked her in a fucking dungeon? What, Christopher?”
“I don’t fuckin’ know!” Christopher roared. “Give my fuckin’ life so her and Jo wouldn’t be facin’ this. Give up my sight, my hearin’, all my fuckin’ senses, so she could have a fuckin’ normal pregnancy and not have to get a fuckin’ hysterectomy.”
He jumped to his feet and swiped his and Skip’s empty beer bottles off the surface, ignoring the shattering glass.
“Fuck, if it meant Megan was safe and healthy and happy, if it meant Jo wasn’t so sick, I would’ve let you have her. I would do anything. Anyfuckinthing for my Megan not to be so fuckin’ crushed. She could have as many babies as she wanted. I could have as many babies as I wanted.”
None, if they weren’t with Megan, but he didn’t need to go into detail. He didn’t need to point out they had enough lil’ motherfuckers, since everyone already knew it. His thoughts were too fucking jumbled to express all he felt.
He kicked his desk chair, slamming it into the metal cabinets underneath the lone window. “Now, please, get the fuck out of my fuckin’ face. Let me be a whiny, sulky, bitch-ass assfuck in peace, so I can pull myself together and go to my woman.”
Johnnie finally got a fucking clue. He left.
Chapter Ten – Christopher
Besides going home to Megan, the only other place Christopher could go was Hortensia General to visit Jo. Most of the time, he took his power with a grain of salt. But he’d never felt as grateful for the position that afforded him special privileges. He couldn’t imagine waiting until tomorrow to see her again.
He and Megan visited her hours ago. After receiving the devastating news, his woman cried as she put on her scrubs and held Jo in the rocker, singing a lullaby to her.
Now, Jo was asleep, connected to oxygen and IVs, throwing him back to the harrowing hours after her birth, and the small window of time in which he’d believed her dead.
He couldn’t bear seeing her so small and sick right now. After five minutes, he left the NICU department and took the elevator downstairs, going to the cafeteria. Of course, it was closed and darkened, the display cases cleared of food and the soda boxes locked. Tables and chairs spilled into the atrium. Everything was quiet and still. The shaft of light falling over the silence dampened his mood a little more.
The big, round clock on the wall behind the check-in station showed it was almost 11PM.
It had been a long fucking day. He needed rest. His mind needed to stop spinning.
Rebel had always loved the saltwater fish tank, so he headed toward the elevators where it was the main showcase in a seating area with a sofa and table, near an emergency exit. The spot was also one of the few places he could smoke without going outside. It cost him extra donations, but what the fuck ever.
Hortensia General predated the club’s formation. Somehow, Big Joe got the board of directors in his pockets, a perk Christopher sincerely appreciated. They’d even been nice enough to place an industrial ashtray filled with white silica sand.
As he pulled his pack of cigarettes out of his cut, the elevator doors opened, and Torie walked out. It occurred to him that she wasn’t on duty when he saw Jo.
At first she didn’t notice him. She was digging in her purse, barely paying attention to her surroundings. If he felt like being bothered, he would’ve pointed out the dangers of inattentiveness. But he didn’t. He hoped she passed by without noticing him. He averted his gaze, so she wouldn’t feel watched and pick up on his presence.
Goddamn, that was a fucked up thought. After all she was doing for Jo, he could at least offer a warning.
Lighting his cigarette finally clued her in. She stopped and stared at him.
“Hey,” she said, walking to where he sat.
“Hey, Torie.” He drew in on his cigarette, the cherry glowing in the dimness.
“You need to see Jo? I can call and see if I can get clearance for you.”
Releasing smoke away from Torie and flicking ashes over the ashtray, he smiled at her. “Already saw her.”
She, of all people should know, he didn’t need clearance. When Megan had been in the hospital, he’d all but taken over and she had a special wing.
“I-I thought you had special privileges while you were here because of how sick your wife was and how you almost lost Jo.”
He shrugged. It wasn’t her business.
“I must’ve been finishing up my report and briefing the nurse coming in for night duty.”
Not knowing what to say, he smoked.
“You can’t smoke in a hospital.”
“I can smoke right here in this fuckin’ hospital.” Grinning at her shock, he held his cigarette between his thumb and index finger. “And I’ve smoked other fuckin’ places in this motherfucker. As long as oxygen isn’t near and I’m not around patients, I’m fine. Badges might want to keel the fuck over.”
Giggling, she plopped next to him.
She was mighty fucking close to him. He didn’t have the energy to slide over. He took another drag of his cigarette. “Jo okay?” he asked around plumes of smoke.
