Megan, who'd come like a whirlwind into his disordered life.

"You're impossible," Patricia said with mock exasperation.

"See, Christopher?" Zoann began and he tensed. "This could be your life. If you stopped your criminal behavior. Tell him, Megan. You're not going to hang around a man who society fears."

"Not now, Zoann," Patricia started.

"He doesn't even have normal friends, Mama," she snapped. "He has criminals around your granddaughters. He's only comfortable with criminals."

"You're one to talk, Zoann," Megan snapped. "As I recall, you were flirting with one of his criminals."

Zoann's mouth fell open and Christopher lifted a brow. He'd warned all his brothers away from his sisters, but the entire club could f.u.c.k Zoann for all he cared. She was a f.u.c.king mean b.i.t.c.h.

"Stay out of it," Zoann warned, coming to her feet.

"Girls..." Patricia began when Megan shot to her feet, too.

Christopher grabbed her wrist to pull her back. "Zoann, get the f.u.c.k out."

Megan jerked her hand away. "You brought me in it when you called my name and when you talked about Christopher."

"Christopher, huh?" she sneered. "Outlaw. He's Outlaw. It should be a.s.sa.s.sin, murderer, man-wh.o.r.e, pig."

"Wow," Ophelia muttered, "tell him how you really feel."

"It's Christmas," his mother tried again.

Avery ushered the little girls down the hall, toward the media room.

"I knew you couldn't f.u.c.kin' keep your f.u.c.kin' mouth shut," Christopher snarled to Zoann.

"Why should I? You have her here, glowing with happiness and living in a fantasy world. You're never gonna do anything but bring her down to your level. If you had any decency, you'd let her go. Because this isn't the real you. This-" She gestured to him in his black slacks, white shirt, and cut. "You can't even dress up without letting everyone know you don't belong here."

Christopher stepped forward but Megan placed her body in front of his.

"If you'd pull your head out of your b.u.t.t, you'd realize there's more to Christopher than just his club," she said fiercely. "You asked me to tell you, Zoann? I'll tell you. You see what you want to see because of your own narrow mind. I'll never ask Christopher to leave his club. It's a part of who he is."

"Then you're a fool. They aren't faithful. They aren't nice. The world knows it. All you have to do is look at them-"

"Man, f.u.c.k this s.h.i.t," Digger barked, starting for the door.

"No," Megan called. "Wait, please."

His hands fisted at his sides, he paused but remained standing, ready to bolt.

Megan walked closer to Zoann, stopping directly in front of her. Christopher contemplated following her. He didn't trust the two of them not to throw down.

She put her hands on her hips and rocked back on her f.u.c.k-me-heels. "There's a man named Thomas Nicholls," she began, ruining Christopher's day a little more just mentioning that f.u.c.khead's name. She raised her chin and stiffened her spine. "You look at him and you see a model citizen. In private, he's mean and he's violent and he's abusive. He takes pleasure in hurting people. If you want a man like that, a man the world approves of, because you don't have the backbone to go with who your heart leads you to, then you're the fool. Christopher and Digger and Mortician take better care of a woman than he ever would. You're out of line talking to them like that and you don't deserve to have Christopher as a brother if you can't appreciate him for the man he is."

Zoann and Megan faced off in silence. Christopher swallowed. No one had ever stood up for him like Megan had and he wanted to kiss the ground she walked on. He wanted to hug her and love her and f.u.c.k her. And, he knew Digger and Mortician liked her before, and would watch out for her because he'd expect it of them, but she'd just gained servants for life with her defense of them.

Megan huffed out a breath. "There's nothing in this world worse than having a family member whom you want to be in your life but they're just out of reach because of something. You can either be his sister or you can walk away with all this anger in you. The choice is yours, Zoann," she added, gliding around his sister and heading toward the kitchen without another word.

Zoann glared at him and pursed her lips. "I guess you want me to leave?"

"You owe everyone an apology, Zoann," Patricia said tightly, angrier than Christopher had seen his mother in a long time. "We were having a wonderful day, but you had to open your mouth and ruin it."

"They ruined mine."

"Maybe, you mean he," Bev offered. "Megan said-"

Zoann hunched her shoulders and flattened her hand on her belly. "It doesn't matter. I just hope Megan gets out before she finds herself pregnant and without the baby's father. Have more sense than I did."

Christopher didn't even give a f.u.c.k she'd just announced her pregnancy after guzzling half a f.u.c.king wine distillery. She'd given up on him way before she'd f.u.c.ked whoever she'd f.u.c.ked and gotten knocked up. If she'd come to him, instead of coming at him, he would've been willing to do something for her.

"I suppose you want me to leave," she repeated quietly.

He looked at Digger and Mortician. "You mind if she hang around?"

Her eyes widened in surprise and Christopher glowered at her. "Ain't doin' it for you. Ain't even doin' it for Ma. I figure Megan would still want your f.u.c.kin' b.i.t.c.hy a.s.s here. She said what she had to say and it's over. But you the most two-faced c.u.n.t I ever f.u.c.kin' met."

"Christopher!" his mother gasped.

Zoann's lips quivered and Bev's mouth dropped open.

"Don't Christopher me, Ma. Why don't you Zoann her? This b.i.t.c.h been up in my a.s.s for f.u.c.kin' ever because of my club, then she's spreadin' her p.u.s.s.y for one of my brothers and insultin' everyf.u.c.kinbody because the motherf.u.c.ker ain't called her. What the f.u.c.k she expected? We're murderers and man-wh.o.r.es, remember? That's what the f.u.c.k we do. f.u.c.k a b.i.t.c.h, knock her up, and walk the f.u.c.k away."

A noise caught his attention and, through his rage, he saw Megan, just behind his mother, chalk white and wide-eyed. She backed a little away.

"Don't, Megan," he warned. "It's Christmas and don't let all these f.u.c.kin' emotions f.u.c.k with your head. You know exactly what the f.u.c.k I'm sayin' and you know this ain't got s.h.i.t to do with you."

She studied him and he could see her mind turning, the hurt churning and he d.a.m.ned the anger that made him yell loud enough to be heard down the road.

She nodded and gave him a small smile. "Yes, you were making a point." She left it at that and turned to his mother. "Patricia," she said softly, "I think the turkey is ready."

His mother nodded but it wasn't as if anyone felt like eating. Zoann's bulls.h.i.t had ruined it.

"Bev, can you help me set the table? Zoann, I need you to fill the water and wine gla.s.ses. Ophelia, you get the b.u.t.ter, salad dressing, and salt and pepper in the proper dishes."

Like a drill sergeant, Meggie called her troops to action and they obeyed. He thought dinner was shot to s.h.i.t, but, surprisingly it wasn't. The little girls, Megan, Ophelia, and Patricia kept conversation flowing and laid-back. Slowly, they pulled the rest of them in, including Zoann, and it seemed as if the big blow-up between them had been just a glitch in a perfect day.

While the women cleaned up and Avery got the kids ready for bed, him, Johnnie, Digger and Mortician brought a couple bottles outside and started a small bonfire.

"Is this the life you want, Outlaw?" Mortician asked, pa.s.sing the tequila to him.

Christopher took a swig, searching his heart. As much as he wanted to be able to do this day in and day out for Megan, he couldn't. This wasn't him. It wasn't his life and hadn't ever been. He'd always been on the fringes of his family, just as he now lived on the fringes of society.

The ocean roared behind them, the glow of the fire lighting the sand, the sky filled with stars.

"No. I wish it could be. This is where Megan belongs."

"As if where you're at matters to Megan," Johnnie jeered. He s.n.a.t.c.hed the bottle from Christopher and took his turn before wiping his hand across his mouth and thrusting the booze to Mortician.

"Hey," Megan interrupted, dropping into Christopher's lap and curling against him. "What are you guys talking about?"

She'd approached so silently, they hadn't heard her come up, and Christopher wondered just what she'd overheard.

"I got a question for you, Meggie," Digger called.

She leaned her head over and looked at him upside down. Christopher realized she was in her bare feet, even though she wore his jacket.

"What?"

"What you did back there, saving the dinner when it was really going down the s.h.i.tter. How you did that? I mean I might need to get a b.i.t.c.h who know how to calm s.h.i.t down like that and make dinner seem like s.h.i.t never happened."

Meggie straightened on Christopher's lap and rotated to face Digger. "Welllll, some people have it and some people don't."

But, later, when they were alone, after he'd taken her to their room, he repeated Digger's question, knowing there was more to it than her breezy answer.

"Although your sister's words were hurtful, they were nothing compared to getting punched, watching your mother get punched, and then being ordered to talk because it was Christmas and we could act happy." Her smile was sad. "According to him, we didn't want to be happy. Nothing he did made us happy, he said. You learn to adjust to any situation, if you want to survive. It's something you never forget."

Christopher tightened his hold on her but she went on.

"After a while, I was the one who kept my mom encouraged. I cleaned her up after Thomas beat her to a pulp or f-forced her to have s.e.x," she whispered. She shrugged again and kissed his naked chest. "I love being here and getting to know your mom, but when are we leaving to go home, Christopher? I sorta miss the club. You're there and the new friends I've made and I just feel so close to my daddy."

So many f.u.c.king lies and deceptions with Megan. He gripped her hip and squeezed. "That's my life, babe, not yours."

"Huh?"

"If not for Thomas Nicholls, you woulda never met me. You'd be in school, lookin' forward to graduation s.h.i.t, thinkin' about college to be that meteorologist."

"You're right," she said softly. "But that didn't happen and my life went a different way. The only way to survive is to take the punches and bounce back. Otherwise, life just beats you to a pulp until you're too bruised to get up and fight back."

"You sure you not older?"

She smiled. "When I was little, I always wanted to get married and have four or five kids. I saw how my mom exhausted herself working away from home and then working in our home to take care of me. I had ch.o.r.es from early on. To me, it always seemed like Mom had two jobs, you know? But the one at home never ended. I always talked about my wedding and my children. One day, Mom asked me what about a job. I told her my family would be my job. She grounded me and took all my Barbie dolls away. She said I'd set women back two centuries by my stupidity."

"Your mom said that to you?" Christopher already didn't like the stupid b.i.t.c.h for not getting her little girl out of the clutches of her husband.

"Yeah. She was different, then. Stronger. A real tough woman. Seeing her brought so low is even harder because of that." She moved against him, restless. "By the time the weekend was over and I went back to school and Farrah and Lacey asked what had I done, I was determined to find a career. I liked science and I liked everything about the weather. It fascinated me, so I chose that and stuck to it." She laughed, low. "But I always thought I lived in the United States of America. You know? The country with a Const.i.tution and the Declaration of Independence that gave me the freedom to choose what I want to do. I didn't realize because I exercised my right to choose what I wanted to do with my life, I would be kicked out of the sisterhood."

Christopher bit back his laughter because, although she was f.u.c.k on with her observation, she had a f.u.c.king way with words and she didn't hold back on her opinions. He could only imagine how well that went over with Thomas Nicholls.

"You're right," he said. "You ever tell your old man?"

She nodded. "Daddy said he'd set aside money for me so I could have my own bank account and not have to depend on my husband if things would go bad or something, like it did with him and Mom. He also said he'd make sure the man I married had life insurance because things happened and I couldn't be too protected that way."

Christopher could imagine Boss saying that, although Megan didn't seem to realize that had been a veiled promise. If her marriage ended, no doubt Megan would've become a very wealthy widow because Big Joe would've f.u.c.ked any man up who f.u.c.ked over his baby girl.

He realized his memories of Boss were getting easier, some of the better times breaking through all his bitterness.

Christopher couldn't remember when he'd enjoyed being in his mother's company more. Or, maybe, because Megan was with him and not his aggravating-a.s.sed, bratty sisters and nieces, once they'd departed and stayed the f.u.c.k away. Long Beach was a good escape when Megan needed a break, needed the illusion of normalcy. He knew they'd visit at Christmas, if at no other time.

Christopher couldn't deny he was looking forward to getting back to the place he felt most comfortable. His mother asked to go to the club for the annual New Year's celebration. It seemed so important to her and Megan looked excited, so he agreed. He even relented and allowed Ellen and Kiera to attend since, somehow, they'd become friends with Megan.

No one had heard from Val or Rack since the confrontation in the boardroom and Christopher blamed himself. He allowed his personal feelings to interfere with club business, which was inexcusable.

However, he refused to have his mother stay at the clubhouse, so he had some of the probates clean her old house and air it out. Until she returned to Long Beach, he and Megan was staying with her. Besides, he told both of them, he wanted Patricia watching over Megan. He'd hoped by the time she left, he would've made contact with Val. So far, he hadn't succeeded. He hadn't heard from Val, couldn't find Rack, and didn't know where Snake hid. It was already the second week in January and Patricia would be leaving in two days. He'd just have to keep Megan guarded, twenty-four/seven.

Now, as he watched her sleep, he thought about everything he and Megan had talked about, the baby he'd asked her for. He supposed men had asked women to have their babies forever. And, women, sweet, pleasing creatures that they were, opened their bodies and allowed men to give them said babies.

He pressed his hand against Meggie's flat belly. He'd come enough inside of her to give her five babies. Call him looped out of his head, but he wanted to bind her to him in some kind of way. He wanted her to have his child, continue his legacy if worse came to worse and he ended up dead.

Christopher's thoughts idled for a minute before gunfire shattered the stillness. He bolted upright, rushing to the dresser for his gun. Meggie sat up, too, and blinked, clutching the covers to her naked b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

His mother screamed before he could tell Meggie to find clothes. f.u.c.k, before he could find clothes. Another burst of gunfire.

"Christopher!"

He ignored Meggie's frightened cry and burst into the hallway. He'd apologize to his mother for his nudity later. Right now...he stopped in his tracks, a roar of pain and fury escaping him at the sight of his mother's body on the ground, a hole between her eyes.

Without heed, he opened fire, not bothering to closely identify the gunman, only wanting the f.u.c.ker dead. Only- "Christopher?"

He squeezed the trigger, not responding to Megan, tears running down his cheeks. He emptied his magazine in the f.u.c.ker, splattered him to h.e.l.l.

"Outlaw."

Snake. The voice was behind him and he held a f.u.c.king gun without ammo. Useless. Christopher turned, trembling because the body of his mother lay behind him. In front of him, Meggie stood, her naked body as white as a sheet, her lips trembling. Snake pointed a sawed-off shotgun toward them.

Christopher shoved Megan behind him, hoping she didn't see his mother, hoping she kept quiet. He had to keep his s.h.i.t together, so she wouldn't end up dead like..."My mother. You killed my mother."

"My father," Snake snarled. "Your mother."

"Megan ain't my mother."

Snake smiled coldly. "No, she's not. She's my sister, though, a wh.o.r.e like your mother. f.u.c.king my father because my sister's f.u.c.king mother married a f.u.c.king p.r.i.c.k and broke my father's heart."

Megan squeaked while an eerie calm settled over Christopher. Somehow, he'd survive and torture Snake when he got his hands on him. He had to survive and get Megan the f.u.c.k away. Boss wasn't s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g his mother. He couldn't have been. Patricia hadn't once let on, hadn't once...f.u.c.k him, that's why she'd confronted him about killing Big Joe. They'd been lovers.

"You knew about me all along?" Megan asked, not commenting on anything else.

Christopher had to stay focused, stay in the present situation. Megan's life depended on it. He had to get her to shut the f.u.c.k up. The less she said, the better for her. As long as she lived, he'd deal with everything else later. At least, she remained behind him, protected from Snake.

"Didn't know about you 'til Rack told me. How the f.u.c.k you think I knew where the f.u.c.k to find you? Patricia talked to Rack and he got it from her. He's such a loyal brother. Always keeping in touch, checking on her. She was grieving so bad for my father."

Christopher intended to chop Rack into little pieces. He'd used his mother to get intel from her and pa.s.s it on to Snake.

"Now, move, f.u.c.ker. I want that little b.i.t.c.h you've been f.u.c.king."