Page 26 of Rebellious

“Meggie like the new bedroom?”

Christopher shrugged. “Ain’t got much of a chance to enjoy it before we got hit with this bullshit.”

“Sorry I couldn’t stay and help more. Lou wanted a new pair of shoes. I couldn’t miss an opportunity to see them.”

Bailey kept a tight fucking rein on the boys, so Christopher didn’t fault his friend for seeing them when he could.

“I was interrupted myfuckinself,” Christopher admitted. “Got a call from Lance Hart.”

Flicking his barely-enjoyed cigarette to the ground and stomping it, Mort frowned. “Who?”

“A motherfucker who wanted Bash and his club to move drugs and dealing with guns.”

“Dealing with?” Mort echoed, never a slow motherfucker. “Trading? Smuggling—”

“Both. Hart pretend to be just a tech billionaire, but the bulk of his money came from illicit deals. Gun tradin’. He was able to shake the Feds, but not his need for money.”

“How you got wind of it?”

“Riley. Durin’ background checks on the American Scorpions.”

“Bunny old man thorough, that’s for fucking sure.”

“That’s why he’s still on the fuckin’ payroll.”

“How’d Hart find out about us, Prez?”

Christopher poked and prodded until he made contact with the motherfucker. Once Kendall ironed out the deal, he should’ve walked away or had her include it in their many written agreements. But, fuck, it still chafed Christopher’s nuts how he’d been forced into peace with Bash, even if the motherfucker was behaving and seemed to want to do better.

“Hart and me came to an agreement,” Christopher said, skirting Mort’s questions. “He’s callin’ in the next several days for a meetin’.”

Mort squinted, studying Christopher in silence. Long years of friendship allowed the motherfucker to read between the lines and guess what the fuck Christopher wasn’t saying. “You stealing this from the Scorpions?”

“They didn’t have it on fuckin’ lockdown, Mort,” Christopher snapped.

“But they knew about it?”

And thought they were all but guaranteed to get it. Yet, all the fuck Bash would do was waste the money. Maybe even get himself fucked up.

“Prez, you forcing Diesel to stay married to Tabitha…no, you allowed Bash to include that in the peace agreement. A peace agreement that risk a lot of lives, especially Meggie’s, if it’s fucked up. Yet, you doing the same thing and think you justified?”

“I ain’t cuttin’ Bash out. Ima give him his fair fuckin’ share.”

“According to you, you not cutting him out. And it won’t be a fair share if we get the bulk of it, which we will because we the ones who risking our lives and our freedom.”

“Torrin’s up next for a big enterprise, but I’m makin’ Val co-captain on this one. What Johnnie did with Molly and how Val had to involve you wouldna happened if he had his own bills. Efuckinuff of his own bills. This’ll put him up there with us.”

“Fine, if that was fucking true, Outlaw, but we know it’s because Johnnie and his motherfuckers hurt your fucking pride. Fuck, they hurt mine, too. I understand, Prez. I do. It just not like you to hold another man to an agreement that you knowingly and willingly break. Especially your own fucking son.”

For months, Christopher had prepared for war. He’d thought of ways to protect and defend Megan against an enemy who could strike at any moment. Then, suddenly, the threat was supposedly gone. Bash wanted to be accepted into the family and a bloodbath was averted.

Yet, the club’s true owner was still a mystery. Bash’s long-term goodwill was still in question. The Death Dwellers’ ability to bounce back from months of strife was still unknown.

“Mort, if you don’t want a part of the deal, I understand. You going through a lot with your woman. I ain’t holdin’ it against you if you want to be excluded.”

“No, Prez. I might not be happy with it and want you to reconsider, but I’d never turn my back on you.” He held out his hand. “We brothers for better or for worse. ‘Til I breathe my last.”

A chill slid up Christopher’s back, but he shoved it aside and shook Mort’s hand. “Always, brother.”