Chapter Thirty-Six

“Aunt Meggie, you need time away from the club and Uncle Christopher,” Tabitha insisted.

Meggie sat at the breakfast bar, drinking tea while her daughter-in-law sipped a glass of white wine. It was rare that Tabitha visited, especially without Diesel.

But, tonight, he engaged in club business. Christopher had wanted to take the Triplets. Meggie asked him to leave them be this time around. Whatever was going on, she suspected it pertained to Torie and she didn’t want them subjected to…whatever the outcome was.

“You look so haggard, aunt,” Tabitha went on.

Meggie smiled serenely. “You just do wonders for my self-esteem.”

“Oh, pooh,” Tabitha teased. “Who needs self-esteem when you have a mirror?”

“Love the logic,” Meggie responded.

“Enough about your looks. They’re fine for now but if you don’t sneak away and rejuvenate yourself, you will wrinkle.”

“Where do you want me to go again?” Meggie asked. Maybe she did need time to herself. Two or three days alone wouldn’t hurt. “A ski lodge?”

She could have massages, facials, and hours of sleep. She felt wrung out and drained.

The alarm announced the opening of the front door. The faint sound of Christopher’s bootsteps reached Meggie. When they didn’t draw closer, she sagged in disappointment.

“I suppose Diesel’s ready to go,” Tabitha said. She’d been talking nonstop.

Rebel had escaped to her room hours ago. She didn’t like Tabitha on a good day. She wouldn’t suffer her incessant conversation.

Tabitha drained her glass. “Should I make him wait for me or force him to leave the club to get me?”

“Please don’t. We both know he’s ready to leave.”

“Or fucking a bitch.”

Meggie shrugged. “It’s one or the other.”

“He’s your son.”

“And I have no control over what he does, especially with his penis. You’re his wife. The ball’s in your court. But you won’t know what he’s doing unless you walk there.”

“Someone sounds as if they are ready to get rid of me.”

That time came hours ago. “Someone sounds as if they are wising up.”

“Fine!” Tabitha stomped off.

Meggie finished her tea. She was just getting to her feet when CJ walked into the kitchen.

“You didn’t have to disable the alarm,” she said, her back to him. “I never go to sleep while your father’s at a club meeting.”

CJ didn’t answer, so Meggie turned. Her son was standing near the stool she’d sat on, staring at the counter.

She raced to him. “CJ?”

“She’s dead, Mom,” he whispered.

“Who, son?”

He swallowed. “Torie. Dad…Dad…I’ve never seen him like that. So…so…he was a killer. He strangled her.” CJ sat in a stool and trembled.

Meggie wrapped her arms around him.

“He didn’t…he looked into her eyes and…and…Jesus. He told Uncle Johnnie to put her in the wood chipper.”

Meggie wanted to feel remorse at Torie’s death, but all she felt was relief. Torie was out of their lives for good.

Unsure of what to say, Meggie remained silent, humming one of CJ’s favorite lullabies. Until the words came to her and she spoke.

“Christopher is a good father, CJ. He adores you, your brothers and your sisters. What you saw was a man he keeps away from us.” She leaned back and smoothed her hand over her son’s brow. “But you want to join the club, son,” she said, a fact she was coming to terms with. “This won’t be the only time you see that side of him.”

“It was shocking, Mom. Diesel said he finally understood what your influence does for Dad.”

“I love him, CJ. I do nothing else.”

“You do so much more than that.” He hung his head. “And I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you about Torie.”

“It’s okay,” she said, meaning it.

Christopher had already explained what happened. He’d thought about keeping the entire situation from her, then thought better of it. He’d also told her about Cee Cee and Patricia’s marriage. Christopher swore it didn’t matter. That his mother’s hand had probably been forced.

Meggie thought there was more to it than that, but they’d face the fallout together. Besides, there was so much more facing them. Skip didn’t know if the Scorpions killed Ari and Higgins. Charred bones and teeth remained as the only evidence.

“Do you want…?”

Uncertainty hit Meggie and she snapped her brows together. Once, when CJ was upset, she’d pop a big bowl of popcorn and they’d watch a movie. Or she’d take him to the play yard outside, then give him ice cream, until he calmed down or opened up or both.

Now, she didn’t know what to do. He was caught between boy and man, biker and son. Managing his rapidly changing understanding of the world around him as she once had was ridiculous.

It broke her heart, and she wanted to sob in misery. This wasn’t about her, though. It was about her potato. She’d been a biker’s wife. She could be a biker’s mother.

“Do you want a…a…have you…have you ever tasted the Skittles vodka I make for your Uncle Mort?”

CJ froze. Slowly, he raised his head and stared at her.

“There’s…there’s beer,” she added. That’s what she’d intended to offer him at first.

He smiled at her, bent, and kissed her cheek. “I love you so much, Mom,” he told her. “I still like ice cream, but right now I want a hot shower.”

“Don’t think harshly of your dad.”

“I don’t,” he said. “I just…when he shot Billy and Eric, it was over in a matter of seconds. With Torie…I didn’t see Dad,” he reiterated. “He wasn’t Christopher Caldwell. Manual strangulation is personal. And, God, Mom. It started off…I thought he’d just give her a warning, especially after Uncle Digger started playing I Don’t Fuck With You.”

“Big Sean’s song?”

Tension eased from CJ a little more. “Lolly will be so proud to know her varied musical tastes have rubbed off on you,” he joked.

“She will be,” Meggie agreed, grinning.

“By the end, everyone was shook. I think she was dead after three minutes. That…that was when her bladder emptied. He didn’t stop for another two minutes, then he shot her. Twelve rounds. Point blank with his hollows.”

Nausea twisted through Meggie, and she tried to push the images that CJ’s description conjured out of her head. She’d witnessed the aftermath of a shooting not long after she met Christopher. He’d been so grievously wounded, she hadn’t dwelled on all the death and gore.

“Her face was just like torn meat—”

The moment he said the words, CJ turned green. He just managed to make it to the sink and throw up. Throughout it, Meggie patted his back. She didn’t know what to say to him. He needed Christopher, yet she knew her husband was probably going through his own crisis. Usually after he…um…Outlawed—in the meatshack or away—he was reflective or horny, different types of energy that always needed addressing.

“Let’s go upstairs, potato,” she said, wrapping an arm around his waist and guiding him to the hallway. At the base of the stairs, she looked up. “Can you make it up? I don’t want your weight to have us both tumbling—”

“I got him, baby,” Christopher said from behind her.

She squeaked and looked over her shoulder as his clean scent surrounded her. His hair was still damp, but he was shirtless, freshly shaven, and just beautiful.

“Go up,” he told her. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

She started up.

“Megan?”

She gripped the banister.

“I love you so fuckin’ much.”

“I love you too, Christopher.”

“I ain’t promisin’ you I ain’t gonna fuck up. Maybe, sub-consciously, I do it on purpose, cuz I just love how you fuckin’ hold me accountable.”

This time, she hadn’t. She’d given him free rein. No, she’d demanded he take action.

“But I do fuckin’ swear I ain’t ever again fuckin’ up over another bitch. Throughout our years together, you ain’t ever disrespected me the way I did you without even meanin’ to. Just cuz I was a stupid motherfucker.”

Turning, Meggie smiled tenderly at her husband, very aware of his mini-me. Her CJ.

“I love you, Christopher. So very, very much.” She blew him a kiss. “Always and forever.”