“Outlaw, you’re coming up for re-election next year,” Art said, a big Texan who was the president of their Houston chapter. “We don’t want you going lone wolf on us. It’ll still put us in danger. I would vote for Johnnie or Cash as National President. However your brothers vote, that’ll be on them.”
“You can still protect Meggie by suing for peace and paying Bash what he wants for our safety,” Rip said.
Never fucking happening.
“You wanted the vote, Outlaw,” Art said. “You got it. Honor it or we’ll be more than happy to call a special meeting to levy sanctions against you and vote for your removal.”
“Johnnie promised us peace as long as we could reach an agreement and stick to it,” Skip revealed.
Because Johnnie was a motherfucker. If Christopher killed him now, he’d divide the club, much like it had been after Big Joe’s death. And he was making no headway with his brothers. Johnnie had convinced men who’d been staunch allies of Christopher to turn their backs on him. No matter his arguments, he wouldn’t change their minds.
“Listen up, motherfuckers,” Christopher snarled, so angry he shook. “You wanna keep me as your Prezandfuckin’ force me to seek peace with Bash? Ima do it.”
“You don’t have a choice, Outlaw,” Rip said, eliciting snickers.
Wanting every motherfucker who’d voted against him to see he was livid enough to blow them all the fuck up, Christopher walked amongst the members. He glared at the turncoats, enjoying the unease on their faces. He nodded to his allies before returning to the podium.
“Ima do it,” he reiterated. “Under one fuckin’ condition.”
“You aren’t in a position to bargain if you want to stay president.” Art’s voice blared from the screen. “But for fairness, let’s hear your terms.”
“One thing,” Christopher growled, holding up a lone finger to emphasize his point. “If I’m fuckin’ right and something happen to Megan cuz you motherfuckers against me? Fuckin’ run because Ima fuck every last one of you motherfuckers up. And if I ain’t able to fuckin’ leave, my kid—” He nodded to Diesel— “will be more than happy to bring your fuckin’ pieces to me.”
Despite Prince’s earlier claim, many of them knew Diesel and suddenly looked sick. Some of them shifted. Cleared their fucking throats.
“We aren’t wrong,” Art said with less confidence than before. “We…uh…as you…as you pointed out…uh…this isn’t only…uh…it’s not o-only about us. You…you w-won’t r-risk Meggie and, uh, neither would we!”
Lying motherfucker. They’d just voted against him because of her.
“We wouldn’t risk our families either,” Rip blurted. “If we…there’s no need to threaten us! We aren’t wrong.”
“Meggie’s a wonderful woman. We love her to death,” Skip swore, stealing another motherfucker’s lie as if he didn’t have one of his own. If they loved her so fucking much, they wouldn’t gamble with her life. “We’d never leave her open to danger. Never.”
“Outlaw?” Diesel called.
Shoving his fingers through his hair and feeling as if he’d failed his wife, Christopher looked at his son. “Yeah, boy?”
“If I may make a suggestion?”
Christopher walked behind the podium, lit a cigarette, then nodded to Diesel. “Floor’s yours.”
“Thank you.” Diesel stood and smiled at everyone. He looked so fucking affable to the ordinary observer. Only his soulless eyes gave away his heartlessness to those who understood. “I don’t think killing your opponents is the answer if you’re right, Outlaw.”
Ignoring the murmurs of agreement, Christopher enjoyed his cigarette and waited for Diesel to continue. He knew that innocent assertion wasn’t the end.
“Ishould kill them,” Diesel said, holding his smile. “I’ve always wanted to practice scalping. In the heat of the moment, it slips my mind.”
“Can’t you survive a scalping?” Val asked, ignoring the gasps and grumbles.
Christopher hadn’t appreciated a smoke this much in days. “An attached scalp pretty fuckin’ important, fuckhead.”
“Would someone volunteer to be my guinea pig?” Diesel turned in a circle and pointed at random motherfuckers with, “You?” and “How about you?”
If assfucks slid any lower under their table, they’d end up on the goddamn floor.
“I volunteer Cash and Johnnie,” Christopher said, pleased at Cash’s horror, although he regretted Stretch’s fear.
“For tonight?” Diesel asked hopefully.
