Misfit(195)

Horror washed over the attorney’s face, increasing when Meggie only nodded, then stumbled away.

The moment the door closed, Johnnie’s gun returned to the side of the attorney’s head. His hand was shaking. “I want to fill your fucking head with bullets, although I like Megan’s idea better. Her way will prolong your agony.”

“You can’t shoot the fucker now,” Cash protested, while Mortician went to the bar. “Meggie will think she ordered his execution.”

“She didn’t!” Kyler said on a wild sob.

“Shut the fuck up,” Johnnie barked, jiggling the gun against Kyler’s temple. “I can always tell her I accidentally pulled the trigger.”

“No!”

“Why Prez still in the tank?” Mort demanded, from his place behind the bar, capturing the attention of the brothers who’d been watching the entire scene unfold. “It got something to do with Charlotte?”

“No! Brooks really....” Kyler heaved in a deep breath, his face red and splotchy from crying. “Talk to him. He sent me here to update you.”

They all considered each other and the attorney, whose shoulders shook from the force of his tears since Johnnie hadn’t moved his gun.

“When can you have him out?” Cash questioned, still shocked he’d gotten released and Outlaw hadn’t.

“What’s the holdup?” Digger threw at him.

“Shouldn’t he have made bail before Cash?” Slipper called from the back. “No offense Cash but Prez is Prez.”

Cash waved the man off. “I agree with you. Outlaw is in more danger than I was.”

“We’re working to get him out of general population,” Kyler blurted, then realized his mistake at the gasps of outrage.

Mort swigged from his vodka. “Fuck, man.”

Hearing where Outlaw was housed when Cash had been in solitary confinement sent a wave of guilt through him. He’d been in that place, almost buying into those detectives’ bullshit.

“What if he’s killed?” Val managed. “What happens to us?”

“What happens to Megan?” Johnnie said in a faraway tone. Without warning, he yanked Kyler up by his scalp. “Here’s what the fuck’s going to happen. If you can’t get him released, you’re getting Christopher moved today. When we visit him tomorrow, we’ll make it a point to ask him. If he’s still where the fuck he shouldn’t be, I’m going to introduce you to the meatshack, motherfucker. You’ll fucking wish I would’ve taken Meggie’s advice of four bullets with the gruesome death you’ll suffer.” Shoving the attorney away, he kicked him to the ground.

Kyler scrambled to his feet. “I’ll move heaven and hell to have him relocated,” he promised in a faint voice.

“You better fucking hope Prez don’t have a scratch on him, son,” Mort added.

Not responding, Kyler almost tripped over his feet getting away from the club. Johnnie stared at the place where the man had stood, his face clouded with worry. “Meeting’s cancelled,” he said finally. “I have nothing to say.”

“What about the Torps?” another member called. “Shouldn’t we be doing something about them?”

Johnnie swallowed. “Yes. Kill anyone, on sight, associated with them or wearing their colors.”





“Caldwell,” the guard’s voice traveled to Christopher as he sat alone at a table in the cafeteria, eating shit passing for food. He didn’t know Fee’s condition. He hadn’t seen his girl or heard her voice. Nothing, and it was pissing him the fuck off that he hadn’t been sprung.

After another four hours at the station, he’d been transported to the jail, and placed in general population. Now, four days and two fights later, he not only felt as if Brooks was fucking over him in some kind of way, he believed he wouldn’t make it out alive. One fight got a motherfucker thrown into solitary. He’d had two, none of them his fault, but he’d still engaged. The other two motherfuckers had been removed.

He hadn’t.

“Caldwell,” the guard called again.

Christopher continued eating, narrowing his eyes at the motherfucker on the other side of the room, the big fuckhead amongst the prisoners.

Without warning, his plate of food flew to the floor. “Get the fuck to your feet,” the guard demanded.

“I understand your fuckin’ problem.” Christopher stood, looking the little motherfucker up and down. “You tryin’ to prove you a fuckin’ man and not a fuckin’ troll.”

Gargoyle the guard smiled without humor. “Follow me.” He nodded to another guard, standing a few feet away.