“The Hounds can always go on lockdown,” Mortician said.
“Absolutely not!” Derby declared. “We wouldn’t know how long that’ll last. If we missed one or two months of distributing for the Dwellers, it won’t matter. Any more than that, and our bottom line is affected.”
“The way I see it, if your bottom line affected, so’s the Dwellers’,” Mort said. “None of our other support clubs as vital and our members wouldn’t want their money fucked with either. If the Hounds out of commission, the Dwellers might not have a fuckin’ choice but to go to war against the Scorpions.” He looked at Christopher with meaning. “Right, Prez?”
Mortician’s way would be slower, but probably more palatable to the brothers. “Yeah, Mort, you right.”
“Outlaw! Mortician! Look around my fucking club,” Derby said, swinging his arms to indicate the room. “This isn’t set up for lockdown. It’s set up to fuck and earn money.”
“What the fuck you talking about?” Val asked. “You went on lockdown for a week a couple of years ago when the Gnomes were on a rampage.”
“Gypsy and I were still happy then. I can’t fucking imagine being cooped up with her. Every fucking thing is a goddamn problem. I love her to death but her cunt is old and dry. I can’t deal with that. I need wet young pussy.”
Mortician glared at Derby, then nodded to the door. “I’ll be outside, Prez. I need to call Lou and Kaleb.”
Val excused himself to call Bitsy and Stretch didn’t say shit. He just walked out.
“Was it something I said?” Derby asked with a grin, not giving a fuck that he’d disrespected Gypsy to high fucking heaven.
“One of these days, motherfucker, you’re gonna be wishin’ you still had Gypsy.”
“She always comes back. I lick her pussy, let her suck my cock, and fuck her ass, and she’s happy. I always thought she liked her ass fucked more than her pussy anyway. Who the fuck knows?”
No matter what Christopher said, Derby wouldn’t get a fucking clue. “Get Dez, his four members, and their families here. If their old ladies don’t like the clubhouse, let me know, and I’ll get you money to find a safe place until we get this shit sorted out.”
Christopher studied Digger, still wondering about Gypsy’s look. Bunny had been upset with the motherfucker for awhile and she’d told Gypsy. But if Mort was involved and it really had to do with Megan, that left very limited crimes.
Forcing his cock in her or trying to was out. Mortician would’ve castrated him, Bunny would’ve left and Megan wouldn’t have been able to hide the same shit again.
Same with hitting her. Motherfucker wasn’t limping, so that was out, too. If he had laid hands on Megan, Mortician would’ve stomped him, Bunny would’ve left, and Christopher would’ve seen bruises.
The only other crime Christopher could think of was theft. Digger had stolen something for dumb shit, probably got money for it, and then gambled it the fuck away trying to make more money.
But that would’ve been a lot of fucking trouble.
Christopher narrowed his eyes. Unless he got his fucking hands on one of Megan’s bank accounts?No. Even Digger wouldn’t be that fucking stupid.
“You okay, Outlaw?” Derby asked faintly.
Digger gulped.
“Ain’t you told me your woman wanted a bigger house?” Christopher asked and pointed at Digger.
“I-I-I-I n-n-n-n-never s-s-s-said that, Outlaw,” Digger pushed out. “Bunny f-f-f-ine—”
“What the fuck are you talking about, asshole?” Derby blared. “Your bitch is fine, but Gypsy made a point of telling me how Bunny thought it was sweet that you mentioned a bigger house for her in case she got pregnant again. Bunny thought you were joking since she knows you wouldn’t have the money.”
Sweat popped out on Digger forehead and his face crumpled. But Christopher needed proof. So far, it was only speculation. Megan probably wasn’t missing the money yet—she had so many goddamn accounts. Meanwhile, Mort was probably preparing to pay whatever the fuck was stolen.
Maybe, he’d even bargain for Digger’s life by reminding Christopher he’d saved CJ’s.
There was so much other shit going on, Christopher would let it play out. That didn’t mean he wasn’t madder than a motherfucker.
He grabbed Digger by the throat. “Listen up, fuckhead, if you stole goddamn money from my wife, put it the fuck back or for every goddamn dollar you stole, I’ll cut a piece out of you.” He punched him in his fucking mouth just for being a stupid motherfucker. “Now, let’s get the fuck outta here before I shoot the fuck outta you,” he snarled, and stormed away.
March 10th
Easton studied Bash’s office door. He’d gotten back to Salt Lake City late last night and didn’t want to spend any more time than necessary there. Tio was still out of commission, but Cleaner, Tom, and Wally were there, so Easton thought it best to broach the subject of Molly ASAP. Fuck, he didn’t even knowif she was still there. No one had mentioned her that day, not even in passing. Although he had an increasing preference for the Death Dwellers, his allegiance remained to the American Scorpions, despite the bullshit and madmen chipping away at that fucking daily.
