Misjudged (Death Dwellers #3.5) (5 page)

“There’s no way on God’s green earth I’m planning Kendall’s wedding. Part of the joy for her will be in the planning. If you don’t know that, then you don’t know her,” she said flatly.

“I
do
know her. I know she’ll drive me fucking crazy with concern because she’ll be worrying over her weight. Starving herself. I want us to marry before the baby is born but this is the only way I know how to do it without adding to her stress.”

“No.”

Johnnie gripped his hair. “Fuck, Megan,” he whisper-yelled, so close to her, his breath fanned her cheek. “This will be the last fucking thing I ever ask you to do for me.”

Whatever. Still…”Kendall needs to know your intentions.”

“I’m not allowing her to starve herself so she can reach some unattainable goddamn ideal look that’s only in her fucking head.”

“If you know all this, then you know she’s still fragile,” Megan accused. “You’re just jerking her around.”

“Fuck, Megan.” He reached for her, his eyes almost wild. Fatigue coupled with worry over Kendall had him on edge. Johnnie on edge was a dangerous thing.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Get some sleep and you’ll see things differently later.”

He growled in frustration. “You’re so fucking concerned about her? Then help me fucking surprise her with the wedding. Otherwise, I’ll wait until after our baby is born to marry her. Kendall
knows
I’m going to marry her. She’s fucking stronger than you give her fucking credit for and you’re not making me feel bad because I’ve had all this other shit to deal with.”

“If she’s stronger than I think—although I disagree—then she’ll be strong enough to plan her own wedding. I’m not responsible for whether you marry her or not or
when
you marry her, so I’m not accepting that blame. I
am
telling you what Kendall needs. So deal with it,” Meggie yelled.

“Damn it, Megan,” he gritted, rubbing his eyes.

She glowered at his fatigue, but she softened, too. Johnnie
would
put off his wedding until after Kendall delivered, and Kendall would be a basket case. On the other hand, Johnnie was trying to surprise Kendall with a wedding. This put Meggie in a very bad spot. If she told Kendall Johnnie’s plans, she’d feel better but then the surprise would be ruined. If she kept Johnnie’s secret, Kendall would backtrack and think the worst about Meggie, about Johnnie. About herself.

She cringed. If she kept this secret, then Kendall might even stretch her imagination and think Johnnie was confiding in Meggie more than he was her.

Deep down, she felt as if Kendall was lashing out because Johnnie didn’t always use his brain where Kendall was concerned. He seemed to assume she could read his mind. He didn’t want every little detail from anyone. Cut and dry was what he liked. She knew he expected Kendall to understand that he put her above everyone, which meant she’d know he’d heard her demand for a wedding date.

“When is she scheduled to return?” Meggie asked sullenly, not wanting to be a party to this.

His shoulders sagged in relief, knowing she was close to capitulating. “In ten days. That’ll be a full month she’s been at the retreat.”

“I do this, then you swear to me if Kendall wants a big wedding, you’re letting her have it.”

Johnnie scowled at her. “If I agree to that fucking torture, you better not fucking breathe a word of this to her. Or else that’s off the table.”

“Whatever,” Meggie said with a sniff.

“So you’ll—“

“What the fuck you askin’ my wife to do, assfuck?”

“Fuck off, Christopher,” Johnnie barked.

“Just in time,” Val chimed in, walking up to them with his arm draped around Zoann. It was as if he’d been standing on the sidelines, waiting for a confrontation. He bent and kissed Zoann, which she returned without hesitation. Her hair fell around her in glossy chestnut waves. Her T-shirt, stretched over her baby bump, had a sword with a yellow snake and red roses wrapped around it and the words
Strike with Precision
scrawled in green letters.

“This is the perfect place to work out all this hostility you got,” Val continued, glancing between Johnnie and Christopher then indicating the boxing ring with a nod of his chin.

Christopher stared at Johnnie, not in the least amused at what he’d seen. After Kendall had put whatever bug she had in Megan’s ear, he didn’t need this motherfucker all up in her face. Maybe, he was wrong like a motherfucker to feel like he did, but it was
Johnnie’s
bitch who was fucking up the peace because she was waiting for the world to stop on her fucking behalf.

“Let’s fuckin’ do it.”

“No, Christopher—“

He tuned out Megan’s panicked voice, shrugging out of his cut before taking off his tee-shirt, satisfied when Johnnie did the same. He didn’t fucking know how long they’d have to wait for them to go in the ring, but baring his chest worked like a pressure valve and released some tension, his brain getting the message that Christopher would soon pummel Johnnie into the fucking floor. 

Together, they went and arranged their match, queued up for two fights down. Impassive, he watched Zoann in Val’s face, probably telling him of her displeasure for suggesting this. Megan was scanning the crowds, searching him out. Mortician bent and whispered to her, pointing to Christopher with his beer bottle.

It wouldn’t be long before she was at his side. Mortician would escort her to Christopher because that’s what she wanted. After pouring his heart out to her about everything four days ago—and, yeah, at her request, slapping her ass once or twice while he fucked her—they were back to this. Uncertainty and pain.

Johnnie offered Christopher a feral smile. “You sure you want to do this, fuckhead?” The question dropped between them like cold stones.

“Why the fuck not? It’s either me beatin’ the fuck outta you now or me fuckin’ killin you and your bitch later. Take your fuckin’ pick.”

“Not so fast, motherfucker. I might beat the fuck out of you.”

“Possible, assfuck. It just ain’t fuckin’ probable.”

“Christopher?”

Dismissing Johnnie, Christopher turned to Megan and pulled her into his arms.

“I don’t want to watch you fight. Let’s go.”

“Ain’t leavin’ ‘til the fight over, Megan.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Cuz you gonna be madder than a motherfucker if I call that fuckin’ bitch and blast her eardrum the fuck off.”

“This isn’t about Kendall—“

Uh, yeah the fuck it was.

“That be us, baby,” he said, hearing his and Johnnie’s names.

Christopher hoped their shit wouldn’t end in a 1-2 Knockout. They needed to pummel each other for at least thirty or forty minutes. The bar had suddenly gotten more crowded, with wall-to-wall spectators. Women were everywhere, calling out offers of fucks, dick sucks, and mouth rides. Men were lined up, as well, their gaze focused on the ring. Word must’ve gotten out while they’d been awaiting their turn that Outlaw Caldwell and John Boy Donovan intended to fuck each other up.

Zoann and Val had reached Meggie and Mortician. Christopher glimpsed Cash McCall—Ghost—contemplating him and Johnnie as they circled one another. Stretch stood right next to him. Close, the way their bodies leaned toward each other’s giving all types of shit away.

Johnnie lunged and the place grew silent. Christopher sidestepped him and did a lunge of his own. Quick on his feet, Johnnie moved out of the way, grazing Christopher’s jaw with a punch and kicking his leg.

“Dirty fuckin’ move, motherfucker,” Christopher growled, timing his punch for Johnnie’s response. He connected with his cheek and followed it with a punch to the stomach.

Maneuvering away, Johnnie’s fist slammed against the side of Christopher’s head, disorienting him.

“What the fuck did you say about killing Kendall, fucker?” Johnnie snarled, throwing punches so fast Christopher could barely catch his breath. But, then, Christopher was bleeding and the sight of an opponent’s blood always excited Johnnie, gave him a lust to see more. “About fucking killing me? Talk about killing Kendall
now
.”

Christopher
hated
Kendall. Hearing her name brought all his rage to the surface and he roared in fury, knocking Johnnie’s fist away and grabbing his throat, squeezing. “Listen to me, motherfucker. Tell Kendall she wanna come back and live, pass her fuckin’ opinion but keep her fuckin’ judgmental bullshit to her-fuckin-self,” he snarled, low, the blood pounding in his head as Johnnie began to turn blue. “She fucked with Megan some kinda way.” He lessened his grip, surprised he had the self-control to just injure Johnnie and not fucking kill him. “Megan ain’t fuckin’ tellin’ me—“ And that shit pissed him the fuck off even more— “But I can only fuckin’ imagine. This for your bitch.”

Releasing Johnnie, Christopher balled his fist, slammed it against Johnnie’s face and walked the fuck out of the ring, not bothering to hear the countdown to declare him the winner because Johnnie’s fucking ass was knocked cold the fuck out.

Megan stomped ahead of Christopher to their room and slammed the door in his face before he could follow her in. Scowling, he turned the knob and shoved open the door before reclosing it with a noisy bang. From the moment he’d walked out of the ring and gone to her to usher her out of the place, she’d refused to look at him or talk to him.

Now, she was flinging away her clothes, still not acknowledging him. Even when she’d gotten naked and sashayed her bare little ass in front of him, he could’ve been a fucking statue in a fucking park.

“What the fuck you more mad about? That I fucking fought or that I knocked Johnnie the fuck out?”

Throwing him a dirty glance, she crawled into bed and faced the wall. Just his fucking luck, the badges didn’t have the tools to knock the fuck out of that brick fucking wall. The one Megan always fucking turned to when she wanted to fucking ignore him.

No response. Clenching his jaw, Christopher undressed and got into bed, his dick already rising. For it, bed + Megan = fucking. He didn’t fucking understand when Megan decided to do the pussy lockout, chain up her fucking Promised Land. Understanding completely how abandoned his dick felt, Christopher glowered at the ceiling.

“You two could’ve killed each other,” she said after long minutes of silence. “How could you fight and try to strangle your own brother?”

“How the fuck can you ask me that shit? You already know fuckin’ why.”

“Because you’re jealous of Johnnie or you hate Kendall?”

She knew the answer to that, too. Or, maybe, she didn’t. He’d never told her Johnnie had admitted he’d had his fingers inside her pussy. Christopher had never told her that he knew she’d jerked Johnnie off.

Growling at the image that thought presented, he grabbed her waist and turned her, moving over her and pinning her hands above her head before she could protest. “He made you come,” he snarled, his jealousy and fury almost blinding him.

This was petty shit. But, fuck. Petty shit was less fucking painful than that
other
shit.

She had a lot she was dealing with, but so did he. He overlooked a lot of fucking shit on her behalf. Every-fucking-time she defended Johnnie, it ate him up. It was bad enough he had to watch them laugh and joke. Having to watch them argue like secret lovers wasn’t fucking happening.