Interlude: More Than a Thing: Cee Cee

The Donovan farmhouse, in the presence of Logan, was last motherfucking place Sebastian ‘Cee Cee’ Caldwell wanted to be. Over the years, Cee Cee’s derision of the fuckhead had grown into pure hatred. He shouldn’t have burned only a few places on Donovan’s body. He should’ve thrown that motherfucker into the fireplace. But the asshole was the only one who kept him apprised on the goings-on of those who mattered to Cee Cee since the motherfuckers themselves no longer associated with him. Even his flesh-and-blood.

He’d installed Rack, his half-brother, as the bridge between the Scorpions and Dwellers, but that fuckhead betrayed Cee Cee and aligned himself firmly with Donovan. First cousin, the esteemed Reverend Sharper Banks, was beside himself with his fame and acclaim. He’d reconnected with Logan out of a shared love of money.

Rack and Sharper awaited Logan’s demise, preparing to swoop in and wreak fucking havoc on the status quo.

Cee Cee swigged from his bottle of Jack. “Where’s Joseph tonight?”

Big Joe was the reason for Cee Cee’s visit. He’d gotten a very disturbing tidbit from Spoon, president of the Torpedoes, a Dweller support club.

Logan sipped his coffee. “At the clubhouse.” He shrugged. “Or somewhere, watching over that demon and his son.”

That demon would be Christopher, Cee Cee’s kid. Fuckhead Joey was his nephew, but he hated to think of him because then he’d have to remember his beloved sister and he’d kill Joey for taking her. She’d bled to death giving birth to that motherfucker.

Drawing in a breath, Cee Cee wouldn’t remark upon Logan’s references. It was the quickest way to lose his fucking temper and get Donovan expired. Then how would he know what the fuck was going on?

Spoon might tell him, but he didn’t trust that fuckhead.

“Joe is more loyal to that piece of trash than to his own get,” Logan goaded, settling his cup onto the saucer with a clang. “He has the fucking nerve to chastise my grandson for being better than that scum.”

“Christopher is as much your fucking grandson as Johnnie.” Cee Cee almost forgot himself and shot the fuck out of Logan. “And both are my sons. Might I fucking remind you the handsome price I paid for Christopher’s, Joe’s and K-P’s safety.”

Logan smirked. “You also paid bounties for Sharper and Rack.”

“Remind me again, motherfucker, and I’ll demand a fucking refund.” Cee Cee got to his feet, sorry the asshole was out of daughters to fuck. Maybe he’d ride to Portland and go to the Torps’ clubhouse. He snatched his bottle and stalked toward the back door. “I’m fucking hungry. Order food.” Better yet… “Call one of those club cunts. I want a meal and a fuck.”

Outside, Cee Cee finished his Jack and lit a smoke. The afternoon was turning into early evening, casting beams of light on the dusty yard. Roaming toward the front of the house, he paused and blended into the shadows as a car sputtered to a stop and the passenger door opened.

“Tell Daddy I said ‘hi’,” Patricia called as a slender girl got out, covered plate in hand.

It had been years since he’d seen his wife—couldn’t see that cunt now—but he’d know her voice anywhere.

The wind swept around the girl and her chestnut-colored hair swirled. Scraping her fingers through her unbound mane, she set the plate on the car’s roof and slammed the door shut. Once she fashioned her hair into a messy bun, she snatched the food and turned.

Without warning, Pattie bounded from the car. “Zoann!”

Cee Cee blended further into the shadows, not wanting to be spotted by either mother or daughter, wondering who he’d fuck first.

Pattie could still take cock or leave it. She wouldn’t place the needs of her pussy over her children’s happiness. And she was still a beautiful woman, sharing a close resemblance to Zoann. She, however, was young. Tender.

“Daddy just called and told me he has a visitor who’s hungry. He needs me to do something at the club, so I’ll run there while you prepare a tray of sandwiches.”

“I have homework, Momma,” Zoann said. “And isn’t the car bad off? Suppose you get to the club and it leaves you stranded?”

Pattie chewed on her lip, then heaved in a breath.

The blowing wind kicked up dust, sending Zoann into a coughing fit. Horrified, Pattie rushed to her and rescued the plate. She wrapped her arms around Zoann and guided her back to the car. Absently, she placed the plate on the hood.

“Where’s your inhaler?”

Zoann was regaining control. Pointing behind her, she sneezed. “Dust got into my nose. I’m fine.”

“I understand you don’t like your asthma meds but they’re necessary.”

“Yeah,” Zoann said glumly, staggering to her feet.

“Pattie! Zoann!”

At Logan’s gravelly voice, they both jumped.

“What are you two…Have you run into anyone?”

“Like who, Granddaddy?” Zoann asked, glancing around.

Patricia laughed. “Ignore this scaredy-cat, Daddy. She still thinks Mama haunts the place.”

Logan chuckled. “Elmira loved you, princess. She’d never upset you. Besides, fear the living, not the dead.”

“Zoann’s coming in to prepare sandwiches while I run to the club for you, Daddy.”

“No need,” Logan said. “I didn’t realize you were already on the way when I called. Whatever you’ve cooked is good. I just want peace and quiet tonight.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive, Patricia.” He glanced around, then cleared his throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Patricia stood on tiptoes to kiss the old motherfucker’s cheek. For Zoann, he embraced her and kissed her cheek. After Zoann handed him the plate, he sent them on their way.

“I feel you watching me, Sebastian. Where the fuck are you?”

Before Cee Cee answered, the roar of Harleys filled the evening. Logan sat on the edge of the porch, removed the wrapper from the plate, and swiped a finger through a white lump. Mashed potatoes, probably. He did the same with the green blob before biting into the chicken leg and setting it back on the plate.

The motherfucker played that game, did he?

Five bikes glided into view. Logan re-wrapped the plate as Johnnie parked and dismounted. Christopher remained on his bike, allowing it to idle. Sharper’s sons and the stray that wandered onto the grounds of Light of the World mimicked Christopher.

Cee Cee marveled at the kid’s strong resemblance to him, although Pattie’s beauty had softened Cee Cee’s harshness to create a near perfect specimen.

“John, son, you’re always welcomed.”

“Grandda.” Johnnie was almost as tall as Christopher. Just a little less perfect thanks to his features mirroring Logan’s. “We’re running an errand for Boss.”

“Boss sendin’ Mort and my fuckin’ ass to deliver shit to you,” Christopher said, less than pleased.

“Motherfucker got fucking jokes,” Mortician said with a shake of his head.

Cee Cee noted a lot of Vivian in him, though he was tall and muscular like Sharper.

“I’m not talking to you, boy,” Logan said sharply. “Unless I give you permission to speak, keep your filthy mouth shut.”

“I wasn’t talking to your bitch ass either, motherfucker,” Mortician snapped. “Kiss my ass, Lowman.”

“That’s unworthy of you, Grandda,” Johnnie said with disappointment. “Mortician’s my friend.”

“Lemme do my fuckin’ job and get the fuck outta here. Ain’t wantin’ to blow this motherfucker away and break your fuckin’ heart, Johnnie.” Christopher dismounted, stiff and angry, wearing his full leathers with pride. As he dug into his cut, he froze and zeroed in on the place Cee Cee hid.

Seeing Christopher flex his gauntleted hand, Cee Cee thought he’d have to pull his piece.

“What, Outlaw?” Val asked.

“If Boss lettin’ this motherfucker know my ass was ridin’ out beforehand, I mighta thought he got a fuckin’ sniper layin’ in wait to pick my ass off.”

Johnnie straightened. “Why do you say that?”

“Cuz I’m feelin’ fuckin’ watched.”

“Nah, Outlaw,” Digger said. “That’s just your grandmama waiting to snatch Logan down to hell. She miss him.”

Their snickers drowned out Cee Cee’s.

Logan’s slur halted the amusement. “I meant Digger.”

“Go, bro,” Mortician growled, nodding over his shoulder. “Wait for us there.”

“I want a new road name. Should never have chosen that one.”

“You dig fucking graves,” Johnnie said. “Ignore Grandda.”

“Go,” Mortician ordered.

Digger stiffened his spine. “I’m not leaving you and Boss said we all had to be here.”

“I wanted to visit with you for a few minutes, Grandda, but I’ve changed my mind.”

“I’m a lonely old man. I miss Elmira terribly, John. Spending time with you would cheer me.”

“We ran into Aunt Patricia and Zoann on the way in,” Johnnie said. “They told us you sent them away because you wanted to be alone.”

“John.” Logan grabbed his arms. “Hear me out.”

Johnnie shrugged off Logan’s hold. “No! I’m not listening. Christopher’s your grandson, too! Mortician and Digger are our friends.”

“You’re a good, kind soul. You don’t see what I see.” Logan glared at Christopher. “A devil’s spawn.”

“Then my ass lookin’ at the fuckin’ devil,” Christopher retorted, throwing an envelope toward Logan and turning on his heel.

Cee Cee puffed out his chest in pride, his admiration for his son growing.

“I ain’t no monument of goodness but you a fuckin’ tower of evil.” Mounted again, he signaled his friends. “We waitin’ for five minutes at the edge of the driveway, John Boy. Any longer and you gotta catch up to us.”

Christopher roared away, the other three blazing behind him.

“He’s vile and tainted,” Logan spat, the noise a faint rumble. “He’s unworthy to be in your exalted presence.”

“Enough!” Johnnie blared. “I’m sick to death of your behavior. Christopher bears no responsibility for the circumstances of his birth, Grandda. His only crime is being conceived from rape. Blame the fuckhead who made him. Christopher’s innocent.”

“Every time I look at him, I’m reminded of what my Pattie suffered.”

“Ha! If you were so sympathetic, you would’ve been nicer to Aunt Patricia. You and Grandmother.

“Why did Joe send him and his dogs? Why not you or Val? Even Joey.”

“You’re incorrigible.” Johnnie sounded sad and defeated. The blossoming twilight gave his features a tragic air. He backed away. “I have to get going.”

“John—”

“Save it, Grandda. Sometimes, I wonder what Zoann and me did to earn such high regard from you. I’ve asked Rack, but the jealous motherfucker refuses to answer.”

“Rack? Why not Joe or Kaleb?”

“Your lapdog would be crushed,” Johnnie said with biting sarcasm.

Cee bit back his laughter. His boys did him proud.

“Motherfucking Rack has his nose so far up your cockhole, he can’t even recognize how much you dislike him.”

“Sycophants come in handy.”

“Says you. I beg to differ.”

“Do you? You brownnose that idiot every chance you get.”

“His name is Christopher. And I don’t brownnose him. I respect and admire him. He’s nothing like you.”

“Thank God. You, though, are everything like me.”

Apparently aware of what a fucking insult that was, Johnnie frowned, a pained expression crossing his face. “I follow his example instead of yours.”

“That breaks my heart.”

“Impossible, without one.”

“What can I do to—”

“Treat my cousin like he’s a human. You would’ve allowed him to take a fucking murder charge for me. I came to you and confessed the truth. If I hadn’t gone to Big Joe…Christopher wants nothing from me but my loyalty. You want my fucking soul.”

“You can’t be his cousin and my grandson, John.”

“I can be any fucking thing I please, Grandda. If you’re telling me I must choose, fuck you. It’s him.”

Logan moved faster than Cee Cee had ever seen. He rushed in front of Johnnie. “The club’s my legacy for you.”

“Are you insane, old man? I don’t want to lead that fucking club. Besides, the club’s Big Joe’s legacy for Christopher.”

“Don’t worry about Joe. I can keep him in line.”

Johnnie studied Logan. “What did you do? Since his trip to LA a few months ago, Boss hasn’t been acting normal.”

A similar observation to Spoon’s. Interesting.

“Christopher thinks Boss is on drugs after he beat up one of the club girls. So what did you do?”

“I have done nothing to Joe.”

“Stop dissembling! You’ve done nothing to him, but someone did and you’re involved. Boss is a cold-blooded motherfucker. However, he isn’t a woman beater or a drug user.”

“Hanging around Christopher has you paranoid.”

Johnnie growled.

“I did nothing,” Logan relented. “From my reports, someone sent him a new bitch to party with in Los Angeles. Maybe she shot him up when he wasn’t looking.”

“I—”

“John, I love Joe, almost as much as I loved your father. Simon was a fine son.”

“Who couldn’t piss without your permission,” Johnnie snapped.

“The Death Dwellers were meant for him. By extension, you. Joe is all about Christopher. Never forget that.”

“At least someone is about him, Grandda.” Not allowing Logan a chance to respond, he mounted his bike and sped away.

Cee Cee stormed to the back door, slamming it shut once he stepped into the house. A minute later, Logan appeared, plate in hand.

Oh, yeah, Cee Cee almost forgot that game.

Snatching the plate, he slammed it to the linoleum and stomped, crushing stoneware and food. “Next time you want to contaminate food with your dirty fucking fingers, so you won’t have to share with me, I’ll stomp you.”

Logan stared at the food. “I’m hungry.”

“Tough fucking shit. Starve. I’m hungry too.” He snatched Logan by the scruff and dragged him to the kitchen table, then shoved him into the chair.

Elmira’s death took its toll. Just a year ago, he’d looked sturdy and rugged. Now, at sixty-five, he was just a pathetic old motherfucker.

Cee Cee yanked his .44 from his cut. The one from the night of Johnnie’s conception earned its retirement. This newer one was the shit, too.

“What are you doing to Joe?”

“Nothing.”

Seeing his sons and young cousins, hearing how Logan treated them, took its toll on Cee Cee. His youthful pact with Rack, Sharper, Joe, and K-P meant more to him than he understood. Maybe it was because they’d all upheld the bargain, until money and mistrust divided them. Even when they disliked each other, they lived by the rules of their agreement.

Yet Logan’s introduction polluted their relationships, each in different ways and for separate reasons.

Cee Cee shoved the gun between Logan’s eyes. “When I kill you, no one will ever know it was me.”

Fear darkening his eyes, Logan licked his lips. “Don’t kill—”

“Shut the fuck up. What are you doing to Joe?”

“Why would I hurt that boy? He abandoned his cunt and that little whore she pushed out her pussy.”

Probably as pathetic as Dinah. Cee Cee didn’t hurt little kids. He’d wait until she grew up before he fucked her and slit her throat. Of course, he’d have to do it without Joe’s knowledge because he loved his cumsquirt.

“He is dividing everything between Christopher, Johnnie, and Joey,” Logan began. “Rack feels left out because he didn’t include Wally Jr.”

“Joe didn’t have credit.” Cee Cee lowered the gun and backed into a seat. “He misappropriated Megan’s social security number and got the loans in her name, so he can leave the shit to whoever he pleases.”

Fuck, the motherfucker made a brilliant move not long after his daughter’s birth. If Cee Cee didn’t know how much Joe loved Dinah, he would’ve thought he’d gotten her pregnant to use her and their kid as needed. However, Joe was a sensitive soul, developing soft spots for undeserving motherfuckers. It was one thing Kimber had adored about him.

He needed to check on Celia. He wasn’t as close to her as he was to his boys. If he hadn’t grieved Kimber’s death so deeply, he would’ve allowed his daughter to stay with Joe. He would’ve looked after her. Instead, she’d already pushed out six children at twenty-eight and was fucking stuck in a dead-end life.

“I don’t want a war. Rack is quite displeased. Joe’s busy with club goings-on, so Sharper told him he’d see to everything.”

“And?” Cee Cee asked, not liking the sound of that.

“It’s all in her name again. Megan’s.”

“What? She’s what? Eight? You’ve signed her fucking death warrant.”

“We’ll change it before she comes of age. That’s when the real problem would come in.”

Cee Cee snapped his brows together. “You must think I’m a brain dead motherfucker. Sharper had his fucking lawyers make Meggie the owner of the clubhouse, the grounds, the businesses, and the bank accounts for one of two reasons. Either it’ll be easier to control Joe if he thinks she’s in danger or you want to make him look like a traitor and have him taken out by Rack.”

Logan huffed out a breath. “If Joe wasn’t so suspicious of me, that little cunt would’ve expired a long time ago. But he’d suspect me first. And I can’t have that. I’m not ready to let him go.”

Not only was Joe’s daughter one of his heirs—unnecessarily because of scheming motherfuckers—but she owned everything lock, stock, and barrel. “Take her fucking name off any document that leaves her as Joe’s heir.”

“Do you want Wally having a claim on the Dwellers?” Logan demanded. “Johnnie is my flesh and blood, and Joey is yours. Since Joe financed it all and it all belongs to him, he has every right to include Christopher.”

Including the nice suburban home used to stash drugs and cash. However, Logan’s calm acceptance of Joe including Christopher as his heir, alarmed Cee Cee.

“Is Joe hoarding the money?” he demanded, knowing that wasn’t the case. The American Scorpions received regular payments from the Death Dwellers per another agreement. Stopping the payments for any reason might dry up the amity, but for now, all was good. “Is he trying to push Wally out?”

Cee Cee couldn’t blame him. Wally pandered to Logan and that made him dangerous.

Logan shrugged. “Did you see my Zoann? Even more gorgeous than Pattie, isn’t she?”

Folding his arms, Cee Cee leaned back, wondering what depraved scheme Logan was cooking up.

“If anything happens to me, Sharper’s grief might prevent him from removing Megan’s name from the legal documents.”

“He’ll recover,” Cee Cee said dryly.

“Let me live, Cee Cee. Rack knows you’re here. If I end up dead, he’ll kill Megan.”

“I kill you, then I ride out and fuck him up,” Cee Cee decided.

“Who says he won’t have ordered someone else to do it? Just because he does hits for me and Sharper doesn’t mean he doesn’t have help.”

Props to motherfucking Logan for boxing him into a fucking corner. Of course, he’d call Rack in a few minutes for a quick hello. The motherfucker was as subtle as fucking Quincy—Arrow nowadays—and just as idiotic. If Rack knew Cee Cee was in town, he’d volunteer his fucking understanding.

Clueless fuckhead.

“Christopher’s grown,” Logan started. “I still hate that filthy dog. He’s brought Sharper’s boys into my club—”

“It’s their daddy’s club fuckhead and he’s their cousin.”

“Shut the fuck up. That’s a secret he’ll never know!”

“Get to the fucking point. I don’t give a fuck who knows all the blood ties. It means nothing anymore, anyway.”

“I propose a poker game. Best of five. When I win, I’ll summon Christopher and you kill him. He’s a fucking blight. He’s mesmerized my John and Zoann. Fuck, for that matter, he has a hold over Joe and Pattie.”

“Fuck you. I paid a lot of money for that motherfucker’s life. I’m not throwing it the fuck away by killing him if I have an off night and lose the fucking game.”

“If you win, you can fuck my Zoann. I’ll leave the house to you and get her over here by telling her I need help of some sort.”

At the memory of the gorgeous girl and the insinuation he could use her as he saw fit, Cee Cee’s cock jumped.

“I expect her to survive,” Logan added. “She’s a good girl. A virgin.”

His heart racing, Cee Cee recalled how fiery Pattie was out of bed, but like a block of ice within. Even with direct clit stimulation she didn’t come. And it wasn’t only with him. Sharper, Rack, and Fred reported the same. Perhaps Zoann was just as respectable.

“You win you get Zoann and I live. I win you kill Christopher and I live. But I don’t intend to lose,” Logan added.

“Understood, but you’re the motherfucker who bet her pussy, so you made it expendable.”

For the most part, poker bored Cee Cee. However, betting anything other than money always fired his gut. And Logan had gotten fucking senile.

As if Cee Cee would kill his kid even if he lost. He’d kill Logan. If the old motherfucker told the truth and Rack put a hit out on Meggie, then he’d do his best to get that fat motherfucker first, even if he only delayed her inevitable murder.

“Not for her,” Logan snapped. “I want Christopher dead and winning is my means to that end.”

Cee Cee would contact Joe and tell him about the bet. He would fuck Zoann, so he’d have to think of a way for Joe to stand down. First, he had to play the game. Logan’s shenanigans were more than a thing. He was a madman.

If a crazy motherfucker pitted his grandson’s life against his granddaughter’s virtue, then a crazier motherfucker had to show him who held the power.