Christopher was pretty fucking sure those two motherfuckers, and the brothers in their peace-loving camp, would feel differently iftheirbitches were in danger on the regular. They’d still look to him to solve the shit. They’d just lend whatever assistance he needed.
Even now—again with those same peace-loving motherfuckers—they wouldn’t care if Christopher annihilated their enemies off the fucking record.
His mind wandered to the hospital, wondering about Jo. To Megan, wanting to be wherever she was. On CJ, and his gratefulness that his boy survived.
Christopher was tired. The club had outgrown him or he’d outgrown the club. He wasn’t sure which. It was a different game nowadays. When CJ entered high school, Christopher created a timeline in his head. His boy would go off to college on a football scholarship, experience things Christopher never had and become better educated. Any parent’s dream was to have their kids level up. He wanted the stars and the moon for CJ.
If, after he received his degree, he still wanted to patch in, Christopher wouldn’t stand in his way. By the time his boy turned thirty, Christopher would be months away from his sixty-fourth birthday.
That had been his unofficial plan. Hold down the shit until his boy was ready to lead. Except plansalwayswentoff the fucking rails.
The thought of barring CJ from the club still tore him apart. It was why he jumped at Diesel’s suggestion.
Yet fucking facts were fucking facts.
He was proud of how CJ handled Operation Rebel from start to finish. Yesterday afternoon, Christopher, Diesel, and CJ rode up on Kaia in Diesel’s Mercedes. Motherfucker was lucky he only received a few punches but the idea to pay that little motherfucker a visit had been CJ’s. Not only because of the way he hurt their ears and insulted their fucking senses with those horrendous lines, but because he had the fucking nerve to call Rebel a motherfuckingfuck doll.
They hadn’t inflicted too much damage since Reb probably wanted to see him again, sooner rather than later.
“I’m sorry!” he’d said, doubled over. “I forget her age. I just see her body!”
CJ had kicked him. “You knew we were going to listen!”
“I didn’t believe you!” he’d wailed, sniveling like a fucking pussy.
“That means we can’t trust you with her,” Diesel spat.
“I’m sorry! I really like Reb. I tried to stay away, but CJ ordered me to call her.”
Christopher stopped his sons from fucking up Kaia. Motherfucker was right. CJhadinsisted he call Rebel again. ButDieselalso didn’t think about her age or their family relationship; he saw her as just another female body.
Which was why Christopher ordered Val to install cameras along the staircases from the first floor to the third and in all the hallways. He wanted a camera directed at Diesel’s door, too. To give his boy a level playing field, yesterday he’d informed the motherfucker there wouldsoon be cameras.
“Ain’t fuckin’ up no assfuck until I make sure motherfuckers know why the fuck they gettin’ fucked up.”
Diesel had nodded gravely. CJ looked relieved. Christopher would reserve judgment until he saw for himself if Diesel followed his orders.
As for CJ, Christopher still didn’t believe his boy was cut out for club life, despite how he handled Operation Rebel. That compared to actual conflicts and violent confrontations was nothing.
And CJstillwanted to drop out of school. Christopher didn’t doubt his son’s migraines, but not only hadn’t he returned to school, he hadn’t opened a fucking book or logged onto his account to check for makeup work.
The possibility of a football scholarship slipped further away each day. Christopher doubted CJ even liked football anymore. Despite how hard they’d worked to give their children other opportunities, it was like remaking an old movie and watching it play out all over again with a different cast.
Club life had seduced Christopher too, and he’d dropped out in ninth grade. At least his boy made it to eleventh grade, but it still wasn’t what he wanted for him.
Christopher didn’t know too much about her life before she showed up at the club.What hedidknow was she was pregnant when she left. However, the Randolph he’d met ten years ago didn’t align with the age the motherfucker should’ve been. Christopher didn’t want CJ to become another him and he didn’t want Mattie to become another Hopper.
For that matter, he didn’t want Ryan to be the Snake of his generation and Harley to become the old Kendall. He hoped Molly Harris wouldn’t turn out to be another Kiera.
Sighing, Christopher pushed aside his morbid thoughts.
“Outlaw?” Stretch’s voice traveled through the closed door.
“Come fuckin’ in,” Christopher called, happy for the interruption.
Stretch stuck his head in. “Tom Harris’s phone is pinging off a nearby tower.”
Eyes widening, Christopher jumped to his feet. He’d been searching for that motherfucker since he stole Molly. The closest he’d gotten was when Mason Hough decided to fuck with CJ at the hospital. Of course, just because they’d found Tom didn’t mean Molly would be there. But Christopher would make it quite fucking clear, it was in Harris’s best interest to reveal her location.
