A Very Christopher Christmas (A Death Dwellers MC Novella) by Kathryn Kelly, Swish Design, Editing

stare. “If you fucking over me some kinda way, you a dead fuckhead.”  
    Brooks paled but nodded. “I’d never fuck over you,” he said faintly, sounding as if he’d done just that.  
    “You in bed with this motherfucker or what? Tell me the fuck now, so I can fuck you up and get it the fuck over with.”  
    “I’m not in cahoots with the fellow,” Brooks swore, looking as if he wanted to cry.  
    Brooks’s behavior didn’t sit fucking right with Christopher, but he didn’t have time to press the issue.  
    Setting his phone down, Val cleared his throat. “If it’s a go, I can leave on Cyber Monday.”  
    Mort and Christopher snickered.  
    Val flipped them off.  
    Christopher laughed harder. “Ain’t our fuckin’ fault you usin’ a fuckin’ holiday shoppin’ event to mark a good day to travel.”  
    “Any way else to distinguish the day I want to leave, Outlaw?”  
    “How ‘bout the Monday after Thanksgiving, assfuck?”  
    Val nodded to Brooks. “What Outlaw said.”  
    “Okay, Brooks,” Christopher said, getting onboard so no bullshit would start. “You heard Val. It’s a fuckin’ go. Cash, get us transportation. Can’t run fuckin’ guns on a goddamn commercial flight.”  
    “You got it, Outlaw,” Cash responded.  
    His attitude toward Christopher since he’d warned Cash away from Ophelia was strained. He tried to be the old Cash and joke the fuck around, but he was pissed. Christopher didn’t give a fuck. He wouldn’t allow Ophelia to be with Cash. The motherfucker couldn’t keep his goddamn cock in his pants and Ophelia wanted something meaningful. She could waste her fucking time attempting to change Cash and make him see her as more than a warm orifice to stick his dick in, or she could find a man ready and open for a relationship. Life was too fucking short to try and change motherfuckers who wouldn’t fucking change. Ophelia would blink and all her youth, beauty, and spirit would be gone, used up on an undeserving motherfucker. Cash would be the same manwhore.  
    Yeah, Christopher was a hypocritical motherfucker, considering what a fuckhead he’d been to Megan when they’d first met, but he was who he was. He’d make no apologies for wanting to protect his little sister.  
    With all Val’s demons, he truly loved Zoann, and always had. Besides, by the time Christopher found out about their relationship, she was already pregnant with Ryan, so he hadn’t had the chance to protest. Not only that, Bitsy was so much tougher than Fee.  
    “He wants to renegotiate,” Brooks said suddenly, studying Christopher as if his words made a motherfucking difference. It hadn’t when the motherfucker himself said the same thing.  
    “Let him fuckin’ renegotiate with Val. I ain’t doin’ it.”  
    Brooks heaved in a breath, desperation creeping into his eyes. “He’s willing to up the ante. Double the money you returned to him for the same shipment of arms. But you have to make the delivery.”  
    “Do I look like I give a fuckin’ fuck ‘bout money? I ain’t doin’ it, Brooks. Case fuckin’ closed. Megan ain’t been feelin’ well and I ain’t leavin’ her right now.”  
    “You wouldn’t even if she was peachy keen,” Johnnie snorted.  
    “Peachy keen?” Digger echoed with a frown. “Since when you use terms like that?”  
    “You’ve been back almost seven months,” Johnnie grumped. “This isn’t the first time you’ve heard me say that.”  
    “And every time your ass say it, it sound fucked up. I’m just fucking commenting now.”  
    “I happen to like the term.”  
    Disgust surged into Christopher and he shook his head. He couldn’t let Johnnie’s delusion go unchecked. Maybe, the motherfucker didn’t even fucking realize what the fuck was happening. “No, the fuck you don’t. Your cunt like that fuckin’ term, so you fuckin’ like it, cuz you still the most henpecked motherfucker I ever fuckin’ met.”