“Well, most of them already died by the Scorpions,” Digger said. “I don’t know why we have to go out of our way for five fuckheads.”
Christopher ignored him. “With sixteen days left in March, the Dwellers would be impacted if the Burnin’ Hounds went on lockdown before distribution.”
“Yeah, we’d have to do it ourselves,” Mortician said. “We’d be more vulnerable. They hit one of us while we have either the merchandise or the payment in our possession…”
“I’m hungry, Prez,” Digger whined.
Fuckin’ starve.“It’s almost cooked,” Christopher barked. He’d gut punch that motherfucker once food stuffed his belly and when he vomited on him, he’d stomp his fucking jaw.
“Would anyone like another plate of food, Outlaw? More dinner rolls? Another drink?”
At Fia’s question ninety minutes later, Christopher pushed his empty plate away and considered his choices. He’d already had three pieces of fried chicken, a heap of mashed potatoes, and a teaspoon of spinach, more because he was hungry than because he’d enjoyed the food.
Val had been right. It wasn’t seasoned properly. If Christopher hadn’t drowned the chicken inTabasco Sauce, hewouldn’t have been able to eat it. Not many of the younger club girls cooked decently.
“Maybe, you’d like another vegetable, Outlaw?” Fia pressed. “You didn’t have any salad and only a pinch of spinach. I-I can boil some artichokes for you.”
Christopher snapped his brows together, then exchanged a surprised glance with Diesel, ignoring the snickers rising around him.
“You wanna boil me a fuckin’ artichoke?” Bitch couldn’t fry fucking chicken. What the fuck would she do with an artichoke? Andwhya fucking artichoke any goddamn way? That was a notoriously difficult vegetable to deal with and a bitter motherfucker if not properly cleaned and cooked. Not to mention that thorny ass choke. “An artichoke?”
Fia nodded. “Anything for you and Meggie. Just please tell her…Ms. Her…” She swallowed. “Mrs. Outlaw.” Her face crumpled. “Your beautiful, amazing, charming wife. Tell that wonderful, lovely, gorgeous woman you ate your vegetables. T-tell her I have her back always. All she has to do is let me know. Whatever she needs. At whatever time. I’m there. She feeds you vegetables all the time.All the time. She’s not here. I am. So I have to make you eat them on her behalf. Just please, please, please tell her. And…and…how’s Rebel? I love your daughter. Not love-love, but love the gorgeous, amazing, kind soul she is. She’s an angel on earth.”
Christopher studied Fia’s wringing hands and nervous gaze, holding her shit together by a thread. “You even know how to fuckin’ cook motherfuckin’ artichokes?”
“I can learn!” Fia wailed, jerking her phone out of her back pocket. “I’ll look up a recipe. How do you want it cooked? Just tell me! And then tell that amazing woman you married that I’ll be happy to cook artichoke for her. A bunch of artichokes. All different flavors.”
“Anything you willing to give, I’m ready to eat,” Digger piped in, either unaware of how that statement sounded or not caring.
Diesel wrapped an arm around Fia’s waist and pulled her closer. “Relax, babe. It’s okay.”
Fia sniffled and swiped at a tear. “I love Meggie. And Rebel.” She gulped and looked at Johnnie. “And Kendall. And Mattie. And–”
“We know, sweetheart,” Johnnie told her, his hand still wrapped.
He looked gaunt and defeated, his eyes sunken. He barely touched his food.
Christopher hoped the motherfucker suffered more. He wanted him to starve. Die of thirst. Keel over in grief. When he walked in looking like death warmed over, he’d staggered to a table and dropped into a seat. Immediately, a bout of sympathy hit Christopher, but he ruthlessly shoved it aside.
He didn’t even care that Johnnie revealed he’d gotten out of bed to answer Christopher’s summons.
“It’s where I’ve been since I saw that video,” he said quietly.
“Don’t remind me,” Digger grumbled.
Johnnie raised accusatory eyes to Christopher. “It’s where I’ll return to after dinner.”
“Don’t blame you,” Digger said, gulping beer. “Cum was leaking from Logan’s ass. I’m embarrassed on your behalf, bruh.”
Johnnie’s lips trembled. Instead of crying, he stiffened and ignored Digger. “I wonder how you’ll react to skeletons falling out of the closet, Christopher?”
“Dad!” Tarmac squealed, speeding to the table and breaking into Christopher’s thoughts. “Where’s Mom?”
“She’s enjoying herself with your Aunt Meggie,” Cash responded.
“Okay.” He raced away.
“Roxanne said the same thing,” Knox said morosely, snatching his paper napkin from his lap and throwing it on the table. “She canceled our date.