He narrowed his eyes when he spotted her. "Get back in the room, Meggie," he ordered.

"Chris...Outlaw needs medical treatment, right away."

"I can't-"

"He's lost a lot of blood," she interrupted, not quite understanding why they would let their president bleed to death. Wasn't MCs about loyalty and brotherhood? "You have to get help for him."

"Says who?" Rack's wintry gaze studied her, daring her to answer him.

She raised her chin. "Says me. He's your president. You have to take care of him."

"Do I?" He stepped closer to her, his look unpleasant.

Meggie inched back, remembering the beating he'd given to her. She'd prefer not to deal with him, especially with Christopher injured. She wouldn't desert him, though. He needed her and she refused to allow an overgrown Neanderthal like Rack to scare her away.

"While ya worrying about our Prez, you seem to have forgotten all about your old man." He pulled keys out of his pocket and tossed them to her. "You want him to get seen to, take him your f.u.c.king self, b.i.t.c.h. I have to help put things back together around here."

Digger and Mortician materialized next to Rack. Digger lit a cigarette, took a drag then pa.s.sed it to his brother. The smell swirled into her nostrils and her eyes watered.

Digger laughed. "Don't breath in, Megan."

Mortician puffed once, twice, sucked deeper the third time around. He held the smoke in before inhaling it in a puff. He nodded between her and Rack. "What's going on here?"

"Christopher needs to go to the hospital."

Rack's benign smile grated on her nerves. He clapped Meggie on the back. "Excuse me. I've got to get back to my work."

"Take him," Mortician agreed after Rack strolled away, whistling. "You need to be away from here for now, anyway."

Meggie started away, then paused. The hostility in Rack's voice had been unmistakable. "I heard the man-Snake-I heard him say the sugar was there just like they'd been told," she whispered. "This might sound crazy, like I just want revenge, but Rack doesn't act like a man loyal to his brothers. I'm not trying to overstep my bounds, but I think, as long as he's around, everyone's in danger."

"'Preciate the intel," Mortician said. "I'll keep that in mind."

He sounded neutral but his features where unconcerned, someone else who didn't intend to pay attention to her words. She'd done her part. It was up to them to do something with the information.

Chapter 13.

"Christopher, wake up."

"I'm here, my beautiful boy."

"Meggie, babe, I didn't mean nothing by what I said."

"Please, Christopher, don't leave me."

"It's Zoann. We're all here. Momma, me, Ophelia, Bev, Nia and Avery. All of us. Squeeze my hand. Let me know you hear me."

"It's Digger. What the f.u.c.k you doin', man? Wake the f.u.c.k up. Enough is enough, Outlaw."

"You're a traitor, Rack."

"Ain't like that, Meggie. I swear. I'd never do anything to betray my club."

"Just leave."

"I almost got my a.s.s shot off. Ya think I'd set myself up to be shot?"

"It's John Boy. Aunt Patricia is in the waiting room. If you die, I think she'll die with you."

"You haven't opened your eyes since I left. Come back to us. To me."

A symphony of voices harped through Christopher's head. In and out, consciousness lured him but then darkness pulled him back. His awareness didn't last long enough for anyone to notice, leaving Christopher with vague outlines of people and wondering which conversations he imagined and which of them were real.

Despite the cacophony, he responded to the sweetest sound of all. Her voice pulled him out of his medicated stupor and allowed everything to rush back.

He cursed at the burning pain in his thigh and shoulder. Megan jerked her head in his direction. Luminous eyes drank him in, studied him as though he was the only man on earth. The man she needed and wanted above all else.

"Christopher," she breathed, dragging her chair closer and taking his hand into hers. She kissed the back of it before laying it against her cheek. "I have to call your nurse and let her know you're awake."

He struggled to sit further up, the beeping noises of the various monitors irritating the f.u.c.k out of him. The antiseptic smell collaborated with the taste of medicine to turn his stomach.

"Before you do-" He paused to clear his scratchy and aching throat.

"Shhh," she soothed, putting a finger to his lips. "They removed the breathing tubes last night." She reached for the device to call the nurse.

He grabbed her hand again and swallowed his discomfort. "Answer me a couple questions."

Wariness entered her eyes and she combed her fingers though her hair, blanketing him with the scent of his shampoo. She didn't seem inclined to listen. As usual. He tightened his hold on her.

"Was my mother here or did I dream that?"

"You didn't dream it," she confirmed. "She was here. So were all your sisters."

He nodded and groaned. "Rack?"

She wrinkled her nose and sniffed, providing him all the answer he needed. She nodded, however. "Yes."

The ice in her tone also rea.s.sured Christopher that Megan had accused Rack of betraying the club. He wasn't sure if he should praise her courage or yell at her for her stupidity. She, of all people, should know Rack wasn't a man to accuse of wrongdoing. Then, again, with the carved words still healing on Rack's back, he might've realized the foolishness of harming Megan. Because if Christopher hadn't been in a position to protect her, Digger, Mortician, and Val certainly would.

But, f.u.c.k, Megan needed to think before she acted. Her impulsiveness combined with her temper was a lethal mixture.

He didn't have the strength to take that argument on now, so he went on with his original questions. "Digger?" he asked, deciding the sooner she left, the better.

"And Mortician and Val."

"My cousin."

She shrugged. "I think. If your cousin's name is Johnnie, then yes. But I wasn't here. When Ellen and Kiera visited you, I left."

"Why?" he asked to goad her, her flashing eyes and flushed cheeks hard to resist.

"I just did," she snapped, refusing to meet his eyes.

Christopher stifled a grin, threatening to breakthrough despite his G.o.dforsaken pain. He knew girls and he knew jealousy had run Megan away. He refrained from mentioning that. "So while you was gone, Johnnie visited?"

"Yes. According to Val."

He dropped her hand. Annoyance thinned her lips and stirred Christopher's blood. He ignored the satisfaction he felt at having her face the first one he saw when he awakened. Though he'd been wounded, his c.o.c.k was in perfect condition because, in spite of the pain and the promise he made not to touch her, his d.i.c.k hardened. Yeah, well. s.h.i.t was about right. That was the power of p.u.s.s.y to a pervert like him. In pain like a motherf.u.c.ker but still wanting to empty his b.a.l.l.s dry inside of her.

He groaned and shifted. Megan eyed the length of his body, her face turning red when she saw his erection.

Her complete and utter fascination with his d.i.c.k punched him in the gut. He opened his mouth to tease her, ask her if she'd like to see it, but shut it immediately. Reckless little b.i.t.c.h that she was, she'd say yes.

"Ain't you seen enough d.i.c.ks in your life?" he growled.

She frowned. "I've only seen two."

Two too f.u.c.king many, since neither of the d.i.c.ks she'd seen were his. The jealousy tearing through him p.i.s.sed him off even more. He glared at her. "And here I thought you was a f.u.c.kin' virgin."

"I am!"

"Then how the f.u.c.k you seen two c.o.c.ks?"

"Really, Christopher? We're talking about this now? Really?"

She reached for the remote to call the nurse, but he used all his strength to yank it from her. Fatigue was setting in and, with each pa.s.sing minute, his pain grew. He fought off the tiredness and burning pain in his body to talk to her. By the time he went to sleep, he hoped he'd have gotten his point across and she'd agree to leave. Tomorrow, he'd tell Val to set her up somewhere and make sure she wanted for nothing, ever. Right now, Christopher had to fight the oncoming fog and suffering. He had to memorize her face, feel the warmth of her scrutiny.

He swallowed, cold sweat beginning to bead his brow. The excruciating pain had even limped his d.i.c.k. He trembled and blinked. "Answer me, Megan."

She folded her arms. "I didn't have a say when you walked out with your zipper undone," she chirped sourly. "And my stepfather didn't give me much choice, either."

If he'd intended to keep her around, he would've made finding her step f.u.c.khead a priority. By the time Christopher finished with him, he'd be squatting to p.i.s.s for the rest of his days. Not much more a man could do d.i.c.kless.

"May I call the nurse now?"

Christopher gritted his teeth, disgusted at how his conscience always intruded where Megan Foy was concerned. It couldn't be her home life. He'd known women with much more terrible childhoods, abused from the time they came into the world until the day they ran away, preferring life on the streets to the horrors at home. Neither could it be her temper and her fearless determination. It worried him that when the time came to turn her out, he wouldn't be able to.

He could only appeal to her self-preservation.

Dizziness whirled in his head and he squeezed his eyes shut. Fire blazed through his throat, his thigh, his shoulder. "Look at me." The demand came out as a croak. f.u.c.k, the look in her eyes made his heart beat faster and his stomach clench. She didn't see Outlaw. She didn't give a f.u.c.k that he detested the name Caldwell or the reasons for it. If he allowed it, if he opened up to her...

Those thoughts were not his. They weren't real. She wasn't real. Or, maybe, his injuries and fading attention made him imagine the awe in her eyes.

"Christopher," she whispered, rubbing his brow. "Please. Ask me whatever you want when you feel better. I'll be here."

No. No. No. He had to make her understand what would happen to her if she stayed. What he'd demand of her. "I'm your worst f.u.c.kin' nightmare," he got out. "Stop thinkin' I'm some G.o.dd.a.m.n hero cuz I ain't." He paused, deciding to voice his intentions if she remained with him-the very reason she couldn't stay. Words flowed from him in a weakened tone. He hoped she still heeded them. "I want your p.u.s.s.y." He panted and blinked, the heart of the matter staring him in the face. "The shots coulda killed me and I woulda left without a kid to carry my name. Ain't never been particularly fond of the name 'Caldwell' either," he admitted grimly. "My old man was a family friend who raped my mama then had the f.u.c.kin' nerve to insist I have his last name."

"Shhh."

This time when she placed her finger over his lips, he kissed her fragrant skin before pulling her hand away and holding it.

"I don't intend to ever get married," he rasped. "My kid...if I knocked you up...my kid would have your last name. Foy is a fine last name. Havin' a kid with Boss's genes, your genes, would be f.u.c.kin' great. When he was sane and lucid, he'd been solid. Big Joe was good to me and, Megan, I miss the f.u.c.k outta him." He drew in a deep breath and squeezed her delicate hand. "I wanna f.u.c.k you until you can't walk. Come in you 'til I'm empty. Put my d.i.c.k in you and f.u.c.k you s'more." He slurred the last word.

She took a step back, eyes wide. He wanted to laugh at her shock. He wanted to cry at her loss. She was finally getting the f.u.c.king picture. Even worse than what he wanted to do to her was another harsh fact-she could've been killed. Bullets didn't have names. Somehow, she'd escaped Snake's a.s.sault and survived. He had to get her away. A girl like her deserved better than a man like him. Now, to put the nail in the coffin, use the last measure of his conscience, strength, and decency.

"Leave. I don't want you here with me. Understand?"

Jesus, the hurt creeping into her eyes knifed through Christopher, more painful than a dozen gunshot wounds.

"Get the f.u.c.k away from me. Now!"

She stared at him, caught between disbelief and fear.

"Get the f.u.c.k outta here." He turned his head, a dismissal.

When the snick of the door opening and closing came, Christopher felt as if the sun had walked out of his life, and sank into oblivion.

"He's awake," Meggie called to the startled nurse, not pausing to answer any of the woman's questions. After five and a half days of h.e.l.l, wondering why Christopher hadn't awakened, after the hours he'd spent in surgery to remove the bullets, he'd sent her away. She hadn't slept well without Christopher next to her the one time Digger and Mortician convinced her to stay at the clubhouse. Nightmares about the attack plagued her with dead bodies and gore. In her dream, she'd stumbled over one and realized it was her daddy.

A scream woke her up. Her scream. She'd sat in Christopher's bed, sweaty and trembling. She'd allowed the small lamp near his entertainment center to remain on, but it hadn't help. Terror tore through her. Tired of her tears, she'd done the only thing she could do. Found a small knife next to the CDs and found relief and peace. A channel for all her fear and grief.

Her thighs stung from the fresh cuts but she wished she had something with her. All the emotions converging on her would burst free, like air being released from a balloon. She had to get to the clubhouse. When she packed her stuff, she'd take that knife, too.

She turned a corner, heading for the elevators. A blond man leaned against the wall, talking to Ellen and Kiera. She'd never seen him before, so she didn't think he'd recognize her. And, she figured, even if the women did, they wouldn't speak to her.

Averting her eyes, she intended to rush past the small sitting area outside ICU without a word. Instead, she ran smack dab into Val. He grabbed her arms to steady her.

"Meg-"

"He's awake," she blurted. She started around the big biker, but he pulled her by the arm to the seat he'd vacated and pushed her into it. Mortician, Digger, Rack, and Christopher's sister, Zoann, occupied the other seats.

"Where're you goin', babe?" Val asked carefully.

"I'm leaving."

"Now?" the blond man asked.

G.o.d, he was gorgeous. Almost as tall as Christopher with silver-gray eyes and a dangerous air. Muscles popped through his clothes as he moved toward her with effortless grace. Christopher had a harder edge with none of this man's laugh lines. He stopped in front of her and she gripped the sides of her chair.

"You intend to leave now? When he's finally awake."