Page 146 of Misrule
“Outlaw watchCinderellawith Rebel,” Mortician complained.
All eyes turned to Christopher and he glowered at Mort. “If I knock your fuckin’ teeth out, motherfucker, you ain’t gonna be able to repeat my fuckin’ secrets.”
“Didn’t mean to let that slip, Outlaw,” Mortician said in a conciliatory tone. “Anyway, we watch the shows with our fucking daughters.” He pointed an accusing finger at Digger. “This motherfucker watchMean Girls‘cause of his wife.”
“What’sFrozen?” Johnnie asked, clueless as usual.
“A kid movie.” Val threw an exasperated look to Johnnie. “Ryan and Devon watch it. They like it. So do Rory.”
“My son likes a movie for girls?” Johnnie asked with indignation.
“That shouldn’t matter, Johnnie,” Knox said with a frown. “As long as it is age-appropriate. When Grant visits, he plays with Harley’s dolls sometimes.”
“That’s your son and your business. My son should be playing with cars and blocks and…and knives.”
Digger leaned against Mortician and shook his head. “You showing you a Cosmetic in more than one fucking way, bruh.”
“I told you to stop calling me that,” Johnnie said. “Just because both Knox and I had plastic surgery to repair damage doesn’t make usplasticor give you the right to call us a cosmetic.”
“I like Cosmetic better then the Motherfuckers-Outlaw-Broke-and-or-Shot.” Digger straightened and shrugged. “But I can call you that, too.”
“Fuck you,” Johnnie growled, balling his fists.
“Digger, I’m all out my cigarettes,” Mortician said, staring at Johnnie in warning. “Give me one of yours.”
Knox snorted. “Rude as ever.”
Snatching the cigarette Digger held out to him, Mortician threw a foul look to Knox, then returned to staring at Johnnie.
“Back the fuck up off each other,” Christopher ordered. “Leave Digger the fuck alone, Johnnie. Mort, Johnnie ain’t gonna do Digger nothin’.” He was out of patience because they’d strayed so far off the bombshell Johnnie and Knox had dropped before Val, Mort, and Digger walked up. “I wanna know what the fuck gave Knox the fuckin’ impression we fuckin’ run guns, Johnnie?”
“We were having a conversation about the guns we lost to our brothers,” Johnnie answered in exasperation. “Remember them?”
Christopher stared at Johnnie as if the motherfucker had grown two heads. He couldn’t fucking believe he’d heard that shit right. He couldn’t forget those fucking guns or their assfuck half-brothers. He’d been kidnapped because of them. Them—and Kendall.
Those guns had been a problem from the moment the club purchased them. Christopher had run guns before and was successful, but these motherfuckers had seemed cursed. Just in the purchase, they’d lost fucking money. Since the fucked-up mission where a motherfucker named McCallister had supposedly wanted to buy them—in fucking truth, he’d been a lure to get Christopher in his half-brothers’ clutches—Christopher had stayed far the fuck away from running arms.
Fuck him but he was going fucking soft. He was having nightmares like a girl. He was allowing a potentially lucrative deal to slip away like a dickhead…Fuck!
He scrubbed a hand over his face, tired from his lack of sleep. “Who the fuck the seller and how much he askin’?” Christopher demanded.
“Joyner Amfinger.”
“Never fuckin’ heard of him.”
“Does that admit you make illicit deals?” Knox pressed.
Yeah, in-fuckin-deed, Christopher was getting soft. Johnnie needed to be fucked up for discussing club business with a non-member. And Knox needed to be fucking grounded for knowing the shit.
Christopher sidled a glance at Johnnie. “Johnnie, you can’t keep your fuckin’ mouth shut.”
“Do you want the details or not?” Knox asked before Johnnie answered.
“Not,” Christopher snarled. “Not from you, motherfucker. We go to make the fuckin’ deal and you gonna have badges swarmin’ my fuckin’ ass.”
“I would never do that!” Knox protested. “I love Roxanne. If the club goes down, she’ll be affected, too.”
“Your savin’ grace is Roxanne love your fuckin’ ass,” Christopher pointed out.
