Page 232 of Remorseless

“Since I can’t kill him, Ima just punch him.”

Meggie frowned.

Christopher raised his hand. “Let them two handle the shit tonight, baby.”

The Work Songby Hozier blasted from his phone.

Meggie smiled at him.

He brushed his lips across hers. “Forgive me for all the shit I did these past few days, Megan?”

“Always.”

“My new bike arrivin’ soon. It’s already fuckin’ ordered.”

She beamed. “Thank you.”

Christopher drew her into his arms and twirled her around. “I love you, Megan.”

“I love you more,” Meggie responded, breathless, never more in love with her man than she was in that moment.

Chapter Forty-Three

February 16th

Two days later, Christopher sat at his desk in the club, quite pleased with himself and the way Valentine’s Day turned out for him and Megan. Tasting her pussy,sinking into her…

Pure fucking heaven. He’d missed her so goddamn much and almost tossed aside his obligations at the club to go home.

Last night, she’d gotten on the back of his bike without accusation or argument. She’d forgiven him and loved him and laughed with him.

They hadn’t returned home until the early morning hours with Megan giggling because of the champagne buzzing in her system and making fun of the beard he hadn’t been able to remove. He’d taken off the padding and the pillows before leaving the restaurant with the orders to get rid of everything. Whatever Megan used once they got home delayedtheir fucking, but the itchy motherfucker was gone for good.

Best of all, Rebel didn’t realize half her fucking family had spied on her date.

Christopher sighed.

Reviewing Stretch’s treasury report and checking them against the bank statements couldn’t hold his attention, although he needed to get this shit done. Usually, he compared the reports on a monthly basis, but he was behind. Here and there, he’d glanced at the financials. However, he hadn’t performed an in-depth analysis of checks and balances since October.

Leaning back in his chair, he picked up his cigarette from the ashtray and took a drag, studying the sofa. The old brown one that belonged to Big Joe was long gone, although Christopher hated to part with it. In the end, it was good for nothing but the fucking dumpster.

It had been the place where Christopher first interacted with Megan one-on-one. The place she’d first called him a moron.

He snickered at the memory.

He was pretty fucking sure she’d stolen his heart that night. Yet, his head was still solidly invested in his club.

Now…

Sucking on his cigarette again and releasing smoke through his mouth, he contemplated his left hand. His gold wedding band gleamed at him. He tamped out his cigarette and held up both hands. They were deadly weapons, belonging to a killer. It was easy to use them to pull a trigger, wield a blade, or wrap around someone’s neck and choke the fuck out of them. Death was ingrained in him.

Just as running the club once was.

Even before Megan collapsed on Thanksgiving night, Christopher had grown tired. Mainly becausethe faction wanting peace included Johnnie and Cash.Hisboys.Hisfamily.

Maybe not tired. Maybe resentful.

Christopher didn’t want to risk his own ass and the possibility of being ripped away from his wife, whilethosemotherfuckers slept peacefully next to theirs. No, it was more than that. He didn’t want to riskher. To get to him, Megan was every motherfucker’s favorite target.