A Very Christopher Christmas (A Death Dwellers MC Novella) by Kathryn Kelly, Swish Design, Editing Read Free Book Online Page B

Brooks Redding, the attorney who served as the club’s lawyer. With only a week before Thanksgiving, the motherfucker was now insisting Christopher get his ass on a goddamn plane and head overseas to complete the deal with McCallister.  
    No. Fucking. Way.  
    Even if Christopher had changed his mind, which he fucking hadn’t, Brooks couldn’t even fucking reassure him of the time-fucking-frame. He just had to hop his ass where-the-fuck-ever while his wife was twenty-eight weeks pregnant, to pla-fucking-cate a fuckhead, who wouldn’t take fucking no for a fucking answer. Maybe, the motherfucker didn’t have a family to be with during the holidays, but Christopher did. Megan loved this time of year. Since Halloween, he’d allowed her to host a party, a barbecue, and a dance at the club for the brothers and their families. Next week, they were going to have a massive Thanksgiving feast and the day after that was Black Friday.  
    It was Christopher’s and Megan’s thing to go shopping on that day, from the time they’d met. He wasn’t about to break tradition this year and disappoint her.  
    “I ain’t doin’ it, Brooks,” Christopher declared, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair. He searched the faces of each of his officers. Mortician, Digger, and Stretch kept carefully blank expressions. Cash tapped his fingers on the conference table. Val slid his cell phone closer to the edge, to better read whatever text he’d just gotten. From Zoann, no doubt.  
    Johnnie was the only motherfucker with the audacity to look outraged.  
    Flipping him off, Christopher lifted a brow. “You fuckin’ go, John Boy. You wanna soothe this motherfucker feelins so much. I ain’t try’na find a goddamn transport plane or any of that shit just when the holiday season kickin’ in and go.”  
    “You know I can’t do that. Kendall’s due date is three and a half weeks away. I have to be here. Let Mort go.”  
    “And leave Bailey with a toddler and an infant?” Mortician snapped.  
    “Roxy lives with you. She’ll look after her, your son, and Harley,” Johnnie countered.  
    “I got a better fuckin’ idea,” Val said. “I can go.”  
    Brooks raised his hand, already shaking his head in disagreement. “McCallister wants you, Outlaw.”  
    “The fuckin’ deal fell through, but we fuckin’ returned his money with fuckin’ interest. I already told that motherfucker that.”  
    “To avoid bullshit, I can go,” Val repeated.  
    The deal had been Val’s in the first place.  
    “If we do as he asks, everyone wins,” Brooks continued.  
    “He actually fuckin’ threatenin’ you now, Brooks?”  
    Christopher would have to put a bug in McCallister’s ear if that was the case. He wouldn’t allow any of his people to be fucking threatened out-fucking-right.  
    Brooks removed his handkerchief from his jacket lapel pocket and wiped his brow with a shaking hand. This motherfucker was scared. It sure the fuck wasn’t hot in the fucking room. They all sat with their jackets on and not one of them broke a sweat.  
    “This is a lot of money we’re talking about, Outlaw,” Brooks continued. “After you give the brothers their portion, Val would still walk away with a bundle.  
    “And? I know how to do fuckin’ math,” he growled, turning to Val. “I ain’t interested in dealin’ with McCallister.” Brooks was acting mighty fucking suspicious. None of them needed the fucking money, so why the fuck was he pressing the issue? If you wanna do it, Valentine, I’ll give Brooks the go-ahead to accept the terms.”  
    “I don’t have a problem with that,” Val said distractedly, staring at his phone. “Puff so pretty.” He held the device up so they could see Zoann posing in a black leather jacket and pants, her hair wild around her.  
    Christopher offered a small smile of pride at how lovely and happy his little sister looked, then got back to business. He pinned Brooks with a hard