“No!” Cash yelled. “Nothing’s going to happen to Meggie. And, if it does, I’ll be the first to volunteer to fuck up anyone who’s responsible.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Christopher snarled, “cuz, motherfucker, if something happen to Megan, Diesel ain’t only scalpin’ you, I’m fuckin’ skinnin’ you.”
“I’m your brother-in-law!”
“Show me the motherfuckin’ marriage license where you married Fee,” Christopher said.
Mars stood from where he sat at a table in the middle of the floor. He had a handlebar mustache, a bald head, and a fucking lily liver, voting with Cash and crew. “Can someone call Meggie? She don’t like all this killing, Outlaw. She’ll save us.”
A buzzing started in Christopher’s head and it felt as if he’d run a fucking mile. The red haze clouding his vision could’ve been glimpses of blood or maybe even the fires of hell.
“Fuck, man.” Digger sidled a glare at Mars. “Sit the fuck down. I don’t feel like being on brain detail tonight.”
“I’m not saying nothing bad, Digger,” Mars protested.
“Motherfucker, you just voted against war with Bash because of Meggie,” Mort said with disgust. “Now, you want to call her to save you?”
Diesel walked to his side. “I’ll handle it, Uncle Christopher,” he whispered. “If you pull your piece, you might not stop at that stupid motherfucker.”
He sure the fuck wouldn’t. He’d shootallthose motherfuckers who’d voted against him. Balling his hands into fists to remain still, Christopher nodded.
Smiling happily, Diesel walked back to the space between the podium and the tables and beckoned Mars over. As the motherfucker weaved his way forward, Diesel pulled up a chair.
“I don’t mind talking on behalf of everyone, Diesel,” Mars said, seating himself.
“How very nice of you.” Diesel walked behind Mars and pulled a blade from inside his cut, then slid the knife down the center of Mars’s head. His scream echoed around them.
Enjoying himself too goddamn much, Diesel sliced a few times before shoving the blade in Mars’s head. Then, he pulled it away, ignoring the jerks and twitches, and peeling away the top layer of skin.
Mars tipped over and slammed onto the floor.
“Sorry, Outlaw,” Diesel said, not fucking sorry at all. “I botched that. I’ll need more practice. Anyone else willing to use my mom for their own selfish purposes and then desert her in her time of need?” He shielded his eyes with a bloody hand as if the lights blinded him. “Anyone?”
A few motherfuckers burst into tears. His boy’s show was a potent reminder of Diesel’s insanity. A hindrance in some instances, an asset in others. In that circumstance, it was definitely the latter. Had he shown his ruthlessness prior to the count, the motherfuckers might’ve voted correctly.
But too fuckin’ little, too fuckin’ late. Shit had gone off the rails, to no avail. The fear Diesel’s stunt caused was pleasing, but it didn’t erase Christopher’s crushing fucking disappointment at the meeting’s outcome.
For now, war was off the table.
With nothing else to do, Christopher adjoined the meeting. Returning to his office, he called Kendall and gave her the go-ahead to set up the meeting with Bash.
Since Megan and Rebel were more than likely asleep and wouldn’t miss him if he didn’t rush to the hospital, Christopher texted Rory and asked him to meet him in Johnnie’s room. First, he went to his office, opened his safe, and exchanged his favorite .9mm for the .44 Magnum he’d purchased two years ago.
“I can’t fucking believe you shot two of my fingers off,” Johnnie spat, the moment Christopher opened the door, walked in, and woke that fuckhead up. Not speaking, Christopher lita cigarette and sat in a chair near the bed, watching the motherfucker prop himself up on one pillow and his bandaged hand on another.
“What do you have to say for yourself,brother?”
“Not a motherfuckin’ thing,brother,” Christopher responded, his murderous fury bubbling up again. “Cuz lemme fuckin’ tell you, you ain’t pullin’ that fuckin’ card after the way you stabbed me in the goddamn back.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? I’ve never betrayed you.”
“We both know that’s a big fuckin’ lie. You called some of the chapter presidents, motherfuckers longmyallies, and put it in their fuckin’ heads that we need peace.”
Guilt crossed Johnnie’s face.
“Why? I’m beginnin’ to think you workin’withBash.”
Johnnie’s eyes bulged, but a liar used pretenses for everyfuckinthing. “I’m insulted you’d even think that.”
