Standing, Stretch came to Christopher, regret in his eyes.
“Think about Ophelia,” Cash called, because he didn’t know how to follow orders.
Balling his fist, Christopher socked Stretch in the gut. He doubled over. Grabbing a handfulof his hair, he pulled his blade from his cut and held it to Stretch’s throat.
“One more fuckin’ word, Ghost, and this motherfucker dead.”
Cash raised his hands, tears rushing to his eyes.
Christopher jerked Stretch up, the knife still at his throat. “Now, motherfucker, it aintcha fuckin’ job to protect motherfuckers. No matterwhothe fuck askin’, especially when they disrespectin’ my fuckin’ wife. Bettin’ who fuckin’ her first. You like fuckin’ livin’, yeah? Bettin’ who I’m fuckin’, then changin’ it to Megan fuckin’ a motherfucker.”
Sniffling, Stretch nodded.
“Don’teverfuck me over again. Hear me?”
“I hear you, Outlaw,” Stretch promised.
As much as he wanted to bury that fucking knife in Stretch’s throat, he didn’t want to break Ophelia’s heart, so he slid it across the motherfucker’s skin, then punched him in the kidney, and shoved him away. He crumpled to the ground and didn’t move.
Cash stood.
“Sit the fuck down,” Christopher ordered, setting the knife on the podium.
Without a word, Cash sat.
“Diesel?” Christopher called, his breath coming in harsh pants, partly from fury and partly from exertion.
Nostrils flaring, Diesel maneuvered his way to Christopher.
“Bedhead, Alchemy, and Turbo, bring your motherfuckin’ asses up here, too,” Christopher ordered.
“Uncle Christopher…? Outlaw,” Diesel amended once those three fuckheads joined him near the podium and dead fucking silence fell in the club. “S-sir?”
“You a motherfuckin’ cokehead?”
“I can explain—”
“No, the fuck you can’t.”
Diesel averted his gaze.
“You wanna fuck Rebel?”
“What? No!No, of course not!” Diesel said, committed to that blatant fucking lie despite the snickers.
Christopher stepped back and looked at him from head-to-toe. “You think I’m a motherfuckin’ fool, huh, assfuck?”
“I swear—”
Grabbing Diesel by the collar, Christopher jerked him closer. “CJ wouldna fuckin’ come to this motherfucker if he ain’t wanna talked to you about Rebel.”
He was so fucking angry, he felt like that untrained killer that he’d been in the first few years of moving to the club. His movements were uncoordinated, his thoughts all over the place, and the plan to reach his end goal abstract.
Case in fucking point? He shoved Diesel away when he’djustyanked that motherfucker to him.
“Fuckin’ strip. I’m cuttin’ your cock the fuck off.”
“Uncle Christopher—”
