“Time to fuckin’ go,” he announced, waiting until CJ and Rule slid out of their seats to head to the door. “Hit me on my cell if you need me, Digger. Other-fuckin-wise, see you tomorrow.”
While Rule grabbed his hand on the walk home, Christopher allowed CJ to run ahead, weaving between the bikes and yelling at the top of his lungs. Unable to stop his smile, Christopher followed behind, waving at the Probate on gate duty today, since Stretch was fucking around with Cash and that Bob.
And Diesel.
He wouldn’t fucking think about that situation. It was what the fuck it was.
CJ switched out the bikes with trees to continue zigzagging toward home. His motorcycle boots didn’t stifle his speed at all. Christopher wondered if his son would even know how to walk in sneakers. Not to mention how he’d act out of his cut. By now, his kid owned more cuts than he, himself, did since Megan made sure they kept up with CJ’s size.
In the fall, he’d be in uniform. How the fuck that would work out, Christopher couldn’t imagine. He’d be in school with Ryan, so they’d suffer together. It would be a huge change for the boys, going from the freedom they had at the club to a regimented education.
Reaching the residential area, Christopher saw Bailey’s Escalade parked in front of Mort’s house, along the street laid out for the sake of the girls. Megan parked her car in their garage most of the time. Zoann was probably out on a job, Bunny had no car, and Kendall lived too far in the woods for him to know if she was home or not.
Domestic problems easy.
According to Digger, anyway. He’d adjusted easily to family life. Out of all of them, he’d had Mort to protect the fuck out of him from the harsher realities of life, so he hadn’t had the fucking hang-ups the rest of them did.
Logan had hated Christopher and made his life miserable.
Logan had loved Johnnie and made his life miserable.
Val had been addicted to sex and drugs, after watching his father murder his mother. To this day, he didn’t know where her body was buried. That secret had died with his father.
Mort had despised his father, fucking psycho pervert the motherfucker had been.
Cash had a cheating, self-serving fuckhead for a father.
Stretch had self-righteous, judgmental assfucks in his entire fucking family.
So, yeah. Digger was the sanest out of all of them. The fucking trials he’d gone through had been his own fucking fault.
Christopher wasn’t against the fucking docility of the club nowadays, but he understood what the fuck the man meant. Today, at the park when Cash brought that bitch around, was the most excitement—club wise—Christopher had in months.
For that reason, he’d only put a fucking bug in Cash’s ear tomorrow. Tell him not to ever fucking bring a bitch around him like that again. If they were around Christopher at the club, that couldn’t be helped. And they fucking knew he was off-fucking-limits. Today, Cash had brought the chick for the express purpose of having all of them fuck over their wives.
Whether it had something to do with Fee or not wasn’t important. It had still happened. Because he’d enjoyed the offer just the tiniest fraction, he’d let Cash off the hook.
At the gate, CJ stood on tiptoe, struggling to enter the code due to height limitations. Releasing Rule’s hand, Christopher stopped behind CJ. Immediately, CJ hopped on his boots and punched in the numbers, then waited until Christopher closed the gate before he skipped forward again. Roaming guard dogs didn’t hamper them, since Christopher still hadn’t gotten more. He just didn’t have any fucking luck with those motherfuckers.
CJ paused at the moat, dipping his hand into the water. “A big gator gonna eat me, ‘Law,” he hollered.
Megan spun all kinds of fucked up stories for their kids about this moat. She didn’t like them around the water, so Christopher supposed she exaggerated the danger to keep them away, despite their swimming lessons.
As if that stopped his boy.
“CJ, no do that,” Rule called.
Instead of listening to his brother, CJ stuck his other hand in. He would’ve lost his balance and fallen over if Christopher hadn’t rushed and grabbed him.
“Bad CJ,” Rule said.
“Dumm ashfuck,” CJ responded.
“Stop both of you.” Christopher scowled at CJ. “Don’t fuck with this water, boy.”
“’Kay, ‘Law.” Off he went again, waiting at the mud room door until Christopher reached him. Then, he opened the door. “We home, Mommie.”
He’d eaten out with the guys and the kids, so Christopher wasn’t hungry. But the scent of garlic and onions hit him in the nose. Whatever the fuck she cooked smelled so fucking good.