Page 186 of Remorseless

“That’s Outlaw’s son, woman!” Narci said. “Are you insane? He’s above everyone else.”

Torrin smiled. “Even Diesel.”

“Diesel’s older and also Christopher’s son, so how is CJ ahead of him?” Meggie demanded and smirked at the moron’s floundering.

“Meggie, we undervalued you,” Narci said, changing tactics. “I swear we’ll never do it again, but not only do we want to make amends and come back to the club, we need you to tell Outlaw to stop his killing spree.”

“If we have to get on our hands and knees and beg you,” Torrin added.

“One has nothing to do with the other,” Meggie said.

“I think it does,” Easton said. “He can accept them back and then shoot the fuck out of them anyway.”

“Did I ask for your opinion, Easton?” she said sweetly. “By the way, what’s your road name?”

“I’m just Easton.”

“You’re a biker and want to join the Dwellers. I’d stake my life you have a road name, but I’ll let Christopher figure that out.”

“Good, since you aren’t a club member,” Johnnie said. “So this isn’t your business.”

“Johnnie, Meggie still haven’t given Prez her cease and desist order to halt his kills.” Mortician still held his gun, but his hand rested at his side, barrel pointed to the ground. “Shut the fuck up before she have you killed.”

“You’d stop him, wouldn’t you, Megan?” Johnnie asked. “If only because of how you once felt about me.”

Shaking his head, Mortician huffed.

The avid interest of the other men didn’t escape Meggie’s notice. Johnnie put her in this predicament on purpose. Rumors were flying around the club about her promiscuity and suddenly, she knew, without a doubt, Johnnie was responsible.

Long ago, the tiny piece of her heart he’d once claimed was released under the weight of his bitterness and anger. She’d become his favorite punching bag, figuratively. Christopher mourned the loss of her sweetness. She just mourned the loss of her innocence.

Even after years of danger and peril, after years of all the women, Meggie still searched for the good in people and the beauty of life. She played peacemaker and devil’s advocate for the sake of her husband, in the interest of her entire family, and for the good of the club. With one wrong word, one bad decision,sheaffected too many lives to count.

Because Christopher made it his life’s mission to study her, dissect each little quirk, unmask her soul and her heart. For so many years, he knew when she was upset or hurt or cranky or tired. He knew her better than he knew himself. Her doctors reported to him. She had trackers on her car and her SUV. She agreed to trackers in whichever purse she used and on her phone. Sometimes, she even had one in a piece of clothing she wore. Cameras were all over the house.

In her head, Christopher’s measures meant her children were also protected. In her mind, the issue had been settled about which son would join at what point in time. She understood some of the brothers could take her or leave her, and that was okay. For the most part, however, she believed the majority of them liked her. At least enough to never harm her kids.

Yet, her years of service to the club didn’t matter. They thought her a hypocrite. She understood what Nyx meant now. Somehow, Johnnie made them believe something lurid about her.

“Let me ask you something, Johnnie?” she said, sniffling and swiping at the tears pouring down her cheeks. “What would Kendall say if she knew you were spreading rumors about me?”

“Rumors? You’re out of your fucking mind?”

“No, jerk. I know you. Mean, bitter, and spiteful. How many ways do I have to tell you I never saw you aslesser. Once. I—”

“Once?” he spat. “Does that mean you do now?”

“I think you’re a raging moron, so yes, you’re so far below Christopher, you couldn’t climb out of the mire and up to his level in a thousand lifetimes.”

“You little bitch.”

She looked at Narci, Torrin, and Bishop, damning her tears. This is why everyone looked at her with such derision. She preferred the icy version of herself, but she still hadn’t gotten over almost losing CJ. She sucked in a breath. Her son had survived. That was allthat mattered. If she expected her husband and children—especially the victim in this entire situation—to move forward, she needed to pull herself together.

“I owe none of you an explanation. The next time you want to know who I slept with, ask Christopher and see how that works out for you.”

The roar of Potter’s bike filled the silence, so she waited until he rode into sight and halted next to Mort’s bike before she continued.

“Furthermore, hypocrites, you all sleep with everything around. If my sex life is so interesting, you must lead very boring lives.”