“Prez?”
Mort’s solemn voice traveled through the door.
Christopher scrubbed his fingers through his hair. His hands were shaking.
“Motherfuckers here, Outlaw,” Mort said. “You summoned all of us. One of us need to get back to the hospital to be there for the women. Rebel and Mattie with Roxanne and Red but none of them doing too good.”
Getting to his feet, Christopher walked to the door and opened it.
“Meggie still locked in the room with CJ,” Mort continued. He looked so exhausted. Maybe, even more so than he had when he’d stood behind the doctor in the waiting room. “If CJ wake up, she probably going to want you there with her.”
Christopher nodded.
“I checked on her again before I left.”
“She just want CJ to open his eyes.”
“Fuck, me too, Prez. I’m going to kill that little motherfucker for putting me through this.”
Christopher snickered. “Stand in line, motherfucker.”
“What the fuck was he thinking?”
“I’m gonna let you see the full video after church.”
Mort nodded and began to turn away.
“Mortician? I owe you…whatever the fuck you want. It’s yours. You saved my son and I ain’t ever going to be able to repay that.”
Facing him again, Mortician gave him a half smile. “No repayment needed, Prez. We family, and families look out for each other. If it wasn’t for Digger, I would’ve been home and wouldn’t have been here to save him.”
Not commenting on Digger’s involvement, Christopher held out his hand.
Grinning, Mort shook his hand, then turned. After closing and locking his office door, Christopher followed.
The main room was crowded, standing room only, but eerily subdued. As he walked to the podium,Christopher glanced around the room, taking stock of who was there and who wasn’t. For this, not only would his favorite.9mm and hollows do. He’d also strapped up with a switch. He unholstered both and laid them in front of him. Dementor, Exorcist, and Nitro were there, onlysomeof the motherfuckers he wanted. Rhino, Pixels, Tyre, and Planet sat with them at a table near the podium, assfucks alike. Bedhead, Alchemy, and Turbo were scattered about. Narci, Bishop, Torrin, and Potter were nowhere to be see. Unsurprisingly, Mort went behind the bar. At one time, that had been his domain.
Diesel, Father Wilkins, Johnnie, Val, Cash, Stretch, Knox, Cameron Baptiste, and Sloane Mason sat at Christopher’s table, while Ryan, Rory, Rule, Grant, and Devon were at the table he’d assigned CJ. Digger stood next to the podium, perhaps the only motherfucker whose gaze wasn’t on Christopher.
“Sloane, you ain’t got to stay,” Christopher started, looking at the man with meaning. He was a rockstar. True, he’d had shady dealings thanks to his drug use and helped the club with some of theirarrangements, but he wasn’t a fucking killer.
Brothers dragged their gaze away from Christopher and focused on Sloane. The smirks and whispers underscored the reason motherfuckers not only fucked with Megan but believed they could hurt his son.
His son.Hisson.His son.
His boy.
The thought almost made Christopher hyperventilate. According to Doc Will, if those cunts—Christopher’s name for them—had added just a little more fucking rubbing alcohol, CJ wouldn’t have made it.
Every time he considered what they wanted to do to CJ, he almost went to the meatshack and shot the fuck out ofthose two bitches. Every time he remembered how they’d taunted his son, how CJ hesitated andDieselencouraged him, howPotterdidn’t fucking call Christopher and tell him he needed to get to the club…
Christopher growled, drawing the focus back to him.
“Uncle Christopher—”
At the sound of Diesel’s voice, Christopher raised a hand. If he didn’t have a fucking test for that motherfucker, he’d shoot him, too. But, first, he had to get the motherfuckers who didn’t deserve to witness what was coming away.
He started over. “Sloane, go.”
