Page 31 of Rebellious

“Grandma, what…what big blue saucer eyes you got.”

“The better to roll these big blue saucer motherfuckers at your terrible jokes, my dear.”

Axel scowled. “Grandma, what a big nose you have. And that’s the truth, Ry. That motherfucker covers your whole fucking face.”

“At least it isn’t so small, I wonder how you get any oxygen,” Ryder replied.

“Me, too, since your big fucking nostrils suck all the fucking air,” Axel said darkly.

“I eempose a vine!” Ransom said. “Buck to zee play. ‘Tis working.” He pointed at Rebel. She was laughing, her eyes bright and happy. “Zee Blonde Veeper ees happy!”

“Yay!” Axel grinned at Ryder. “Grandma, what big teeth you have!”

Ryder held up his hands and extended his fingers. “All the better to eat you, my dear.”

“Wolf! Help! Wolf!”

CJ yanked his cell phone from his pocket and wielded it like a sword. “Halt! I am the Woodsman! Here to save the day.”

Ryder and CJ started a slow-motion, goofy fucking wrestling match that made him feel like a fucking idiot until he heard his little sister’s laughter and her claps. Seeing her happiness made it all worth it.

“And, now, we will leave you, so you can rest,” CJ announced, still acting as the Woodsman. “We love you.”

“I love you, big sis,” Axel said, hugging her. “Did you like our play.”

“Very much,” Rebel promised, accepting hugs from Ransom and Ryder.

“Time to leave, men! Reb needs her rest.”

The little hooligans marched out.

“G’night, little sister,” CJ said, starting for the door.

“You’re the best big brother ever, CJ,” Rebel told him.

CJ smiled at her and walked out of the room, those words ringing in his ears.

The moment Christopher walked into the condo, he saw Tabitha’s nude body between the sofa and coffee table, a discarded towel nearby. Bloody foam pooled near her head, cocaine still on the table.

The smell of death curled around the scent of ‘newness’, though Diesel and Tabitha had moved in a little over a year ago. Located in the Medical District, the luxury high-rise building catered to wealth with Italian kitchen and bathroom cabinetry, quartz countertops, ten-foot ceilings and heated stone floors. Each room boasted floor-to-ceiling windows. The few times Christopher visited, those windows added a natural sparkle to the luxury. Now, it was a little macabre, the bright sunlight gleaming on a dead bitch because of a stupid motherfucker and a drug addicted cunt.

As a child, fuck as a man in his twenties, Christopher had never imagined having access to the finer things. Neither had he imagined himself with children or a wife he worshipped. He’d wanted love, a family who accepted him just because, but it seemed as if that hadn’t been in the cards for him so he’d just accepted what wouldn’t be.

Yeah, his medical lab and hydrogrows started making more money than Christopher ever thought possible. Mort pumped money into the club from his personal funds, but that generational wealth belonged to the Banks brothers. Though Mort was a notorious tightwad, he loosened his purse strings for what he deemed important while Cash McCall held onto the money he’d earned through investments and received through inheritance.

But it was Megan, Christopher’s heart and soul, who took the money they’d found in what would become Celia’s house in Hortensia, and turned it into the fortune that allowed their children entry into the elite.

And motherfucking fuckhead assfuck, Diesel, didn’t think to consult Christopher before he threatened the peace agreement and put Megan’s life at risk? What the motherfuck was wrong with him?

At times, Christopher regretted how forgiving of family members he’d become. He wished it no longer mattered if he killed fuckheads who had a familial claim. He’d killed Cee Cee without batting a fucking eye or losing sleep. Then, again, he hadn’t known that motherfucker.

Death, killing, didn’t bother him. If someone wronged him, he could pull out his piece and blow them the fuck away, drink Al or suck on Aunt Mary, and call it a fucking day.

Except…

Family.

His fucking son.