Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books
Page 2
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Connect with Kathryn C. Kelly
Also by Kathryn C. Kelly
About Kathryn C. Kelly
CONTENTS
Preface
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Afterword
About the Author
Also by Kathryn C. Kelly
Acknowledgements
Afterword
Deleted Scenes
Misled
Copyright © 2013, ©2018 by Kathryn Kelly
Copyright © 2018 Cover Art by Crystal Cuffley
Copyright © 2018 Published by Makin Groceries Media
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All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Manufactured in the United States of America
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogue in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
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LCCN: 201895213
ISBN: 978-1-7325889-1-2
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Edited by Crystal Cuffley
Cover by Crystal Cuffley
Interior Formatting by T.E. Black Designs; www.teblackdesigns.com
Mom, this one’s for you.
IN EACH OF US LIVES good and evil. The conundrum we face as a society is recognizing those we pigeonhole as evil and those we applaud as good. That’s the grossest mislabeling in the world, the greatest injustice. Have we not heard of the fable of The Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing? Do we yet misunderstand how deceptive appearances can be? The sun casting a golden gleam upon us doesn’t shield us from the rain. Good and evil are wrapped in illusions we’re determined to create.
The man society views as acceptable…you know the one…? He gives up his seat to little old ladies. Attends church. Sings carols with good cheer. Gives a hand out and a help up. That man, too, has evil lurking in the depths of his soul. Perhaps, he’s more evil. This man has the ability to charm and smile and manipulate the world to see his goodness. When, in fact, he’s the scariest of all.
He’s a wife beater and a child molester. He tears down under the pretense of building up.
I know him well.
He’s my stepfather.
“NO! PLEASE. STOP!”
The crack of a hand connecting with flesh tore through the tension. Meggie jumped and wrapped her arms around her middle, her sob competing with her mother’s pleas. She sat on the edge of her bed, body trembling, praying her mother would survive this latest beating.
Another lick. Dinah wept and Meggie’s belly roiled at the tormented sounds.
“Please, Thomas,” Dinah cried. “You’ve got to stop!”
Meggie nodded vigorously. Yes, he had to stop. One of these days he’d kill her mom.
Glass shattered and furniture banged. Dry heaves wracked Meggie at the heavy thud. She knew that sound—her mother was careening to the floor. Dinah screamed and Meggie doubled over, sweat popping off her skin, her mother’s pain her own.
Surrounded by her white bedroom furniture and pastel green décor, Meggie wondered how her home life was such a nightmare. On the outside, everyone saw the perfect family—a woman, an assistant high school principal, finding happiness in her second marriage with the teddy bear of a middle school math teacher who’d stepped in as a father-figure to the woman’s daughter.
Dinah’s scream coupled with tearing clothes. Though not in the den, Meggie had seen the situation play out enough to pick out the sounds and their meanings.
“Please,” Dinah sobbed. “I don’t want to.”
She didn’t want to have sex, she meant. Meggie bowed her head into her hands, wishing for the strength and fortitude to take it upon herself to kill her stepfather.
“Let’s go in the bedroom.” Dinah’s breath caught around a moan.
Thomas grunted. “I’m fucking you right here. Right out in the open.”
Embarrassment competed with Meggie’s fear and anger.
Her mother’s next sob burned through Meggie and she covered her face.
“Don’t. Not in the den. I don’t want Meggie to hear.”
“Think she’s not fucking?”
No. Meggie bit into her wrist, barely feeling the injury but tasting metallic blood.
“No,” Dinah echoed through tears. “She’s a virgin.”
“No. She’s not,” Thomas sneered. “I should know.”
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Meggie stared at her bite mark, oozing red, and shook her head in denial.
Silence met Thomas’s lie and he took advantage of the stunning insinuation by taunting, “she’s been coming on to me for months. I thought it best to keep it in the family.”
“Wh-what?”
Meggie wasn’t sure if she wanted her mother to believe Thomas or not. Dinah was too broken to attempt to defend her. She hadn’t even allowed the police to haul Thomas away, a week ago, when Meggie had called 911. Instead, she’d blamed her injuries on something asinine and stupid. For Meggie’s attempt to defend Dinah that night, she’d gotten her bedroom door removed.
“You lying bastard,” Dinah screamed.
Meggie drew in a sharp breath, her already aggravated pulse and heart rate throbbing in her ears. She spread her blood over her skin, attempting to refocus.
Thomas yelped and, for a few blessed moments, it sounded as if Dinah asserted herself and inflicted
serious damage.
“You fucking bitch!” he snarled. “I’m going to kill you.”
“Big Joe is coming for her,” Dinah persisted in a wild, unrecognizable tone. “I called him! And I’m going to tell him. I’m going to tell him you’ve violated his baby. I’m going to tell him and he’s going to kill you. He’s going to chop your dick off and feed it to pigs.”
Meggie cheered at the thought. Her daddy was coming. She’d been trying to reach him for weeks. Left so many messages, it surprised her his voicemail wasn’t filled to capacity. He was very busy, so the fact that he hadn’t answered wasn’t real surprising. Sometimes, it took her months to get a response from him. Before, he’d just blaze into town on his bike, the noise of his Harley pipes rumbling in the quiet suburb blocks away. He took a lot of trips, something he called runs.
Ever since Dinah had barred him from visiting at Thomas’s insistence, two years ago, Meggie always imagined going on the road with him and his boys.
“You know how hard your fighting makes me, huh, baby?” Thomas crooned.
“Y-yes.”
“I’m not letting Megan live with him. When he comes, tell him she’s not interested in going with him.” Thomas groaned and gasped. “Tell him she doesn’t want to see him. Ever again.”
Dinah moaned. “Right there, Thomas. Harder.”
Meggie’s cheeks burned and her stomach churned at Thomas’s filthy response. And so the cycle continued, she thought, humiliated. She stretched to her pillow and retrieved the little knife she kept hidden under it. Pressing the sharp blade against her forearm, she sliced down, sucking in a breath at the brief burn and pain. Blood rushed from the wound and her tension and fear seeped away with it. The respite lasted a moment. The satisfaction dwindled in the amount of time it took the pain to recede.
Sniffling, she tightened her mouth and slashed again. Meggie swiped her tears once more and slashed at the wrist she’d bitten.
“Ah, God!” She’d gone deeper than she intended and had to grab the sheet to staunch the flow of blood, the sounds from the den both sickening and infuriating. She wasn’t sure if her mother truly liked Thomas’s attention or if she just accepted it. In the end, no matter what Thomas said or did, Dinah gave him sex. Meggie didn’t want to see her mother as a weak, pathetic woman because it went deeper than that.
Dinah had tried to run in the early days of their marriage. Both times Thomas had found her and beaten her to a bloody pulp before using his fists on Meggie. Her mother had just given up and given in. She knew her mother refused to risk Meggie being hurt again because of her escape attempts.
“Meggie?”
She raised her gaze at the sound of her mother’s whimper. Dinah stood in the doorway, her face swollen and bloody, bruises covering her naked body. She clutched the wood molding, trembling.
The sight tore through Meggie and she shoved her knife under the bloody sheet. She stood and swallowed; her chin wobbled. Both she and her mother were wrecks but she couldn’t add any stress by allowing her injuries to show. She stepped forward, arms behind her back. “Momma.”
Dinah went sprawling and Meggie hurried to the door. Thomas stood inches away, naked, too, and smelling of sweat and alcohol. Unable to stop it, Meggie glared at him, her cheeks burning at the sight of his flaccid penis and hairy testicles. Not that she hadn’t seen him nude before but the sight always repulsed her.
The back of his hand shot out. Meggie didn’t jump out of reach fast enough. Stars danced in front of her eyes at the slap.
“Please. Not Meggie,” Dinah whined, prone on the squeaky clean linoleum.
Thomas kicked Dinah’s thigh and she whimpered again. Meggie growled and launched herself at Thomas, buoyed by the thought of her father coming for her, not caring if Thomas beat the crap of her. She’d learned to cover her pain and bruises but she wouldn’t have to. She could show each little hurt to her daddy and he’d find a way to make them go away. He’d make him go away.
Her fingernails dug into Thomas’s cheek and she drew them down, drawing blood just like he drew her mother’s blood and sometimes hers. He grabbed her upper arms and slammed her against the wall. Meggie bounced and stumbled onto Dinah, who lay silent and still, but warm, the rise of fall of her back assuring she lived. Thomas yanked Meggie to her feet by her hair. She kicked, connecting with his penis and he dropped to his knees.
Meggie blew out puffs of air, not having much time. Steeped in drunken insanity, Thomas’s meanness and strength rivaled a dozen men. She doubted he’d even feel a bullet.
Stupid bull of a man.
Ignoring her pain, she scrambled to her mother and latched onto her hands, pulling her forward. “Come on, Momma. Help me.”
She needed to get them to Dinah’s bedroom. Just until Thomas drank himself into a stupor and passed out. If she couldn’t convince Dinah the wisdom of leaving while Thomas slept off the vodka and bourbon, then, at least, the latest danger would pass. Thomas would be sick for a day and sober for a couple more. Sometimes, he even went a week without drinking. Sober, his hits lacked so much viciousness and murderous intent.
Meggie pulled Dinah another inch and her mother groaned. Thomas roared to his feet. She didn’t want to leave her mother but her sense of self-preservation took over. Dropping Dinah’s arms, Meggie stumbled toward the nearest door, the half bath right next to her bedroom. His arms encircled her waist. He lifted her off her feet. Meggie screamed, struggling in his arms.
He stepped over Dinah, keeping a firm grip on Meggie, and walked into her bedroom. Reaching her bed, he slammed her down. She sprung up and barreled into him, the maneuver useless. When his hand neared her, somehow she dodged it and, instead, sunk her teeth into the fleshy side.
“Bitch!” he yelled, crashing his fist on the side of her head and her world went black.
MEGGIE ACHED EVERYWHERE—HER FACE, arms, hands, belly, thighs, knees, legs and feet. Even the top of her head and her breasts throbbed. Wincing, she lifted herself on her elbows, the moonlight reflecting on her bare body. Blood and bruises glimmered in a grotesque sheen and she shivered, her skin burning, her insides cold. Whatever sick twist in the universe sent Thomas into their lives wrapped itself tighter and tighter.
Feeling the pain of Thomas’s rage sweeping through her body, she understood her mother’s decisions. It was the other times. The times when she only listened and witnessed, she resented Dinah’s inaction. She sniffled and fell back onto her pillows, tears slipping down her cheeks. The two of them gave bodies of evidence a literal meaning. On them lay a wealth of substantiation Thomas was a violent pig. Then, again, on them a mountain of proof validated Dinah had bad taste in men.
Meggie thought her mother had all types of demons to contend with. While she could always judge Dinah, tell her life happened, she knew so many other factors were in this twisted tale; therefore, her inaction could be overlooked and excusable. Meggie’s couldn’t.
Dinah didn’t fight back. Meggie’s sense of outrage overwhelmed her at times and she couldn’t help but fight back but there was absolutely no winning with Thomas. Unless they ended up on an outpost in Antarctica, he’d always find them and hurt them. One day, he’d kill them if Meggie didn’t do something.
That her mother had done one small thing and telephoned Big Joe was enough. Thomas wasn’t going to allow her to leave. No, he wanted to sever all ties between her and her father. But Meggie couldn’t allow that to happen. Her father would protect her and rescue Dinah. No matter what else had passed between him and Dinah, he loved Meggie enough that he’d want to see her mother safe.
She swiped the backs of her hands across her cheeks, pain shooting through her at the skim over her welts, bruises and self-inflicted injuries. “Ow!”
The overhead light flipped on and Meggie blinked, the sudden brightness hurting her eyes. She curled her knees into her chest, praying for the ability to disappear. By the time she came to, Dinah and Thomas had been locked in their bedroom. Meggie had dragged herself to her be
d, just over an hour ago, taking comfort in her surroundings, which reminded her of happier times. All around her were items she and her mother had chosen when Meggie turned thirteen. A redecorated room had been her birthday present. No expense had been spared, courtesy of her father. Meggie loved Monet and had a replica of Renoir Painting In His Garden hanging on her wall. Another wall had a framed print of Minnie Mouse with the words Explore the Magic Inside. Pretty lame, she knew, but she really liked Minnie Mouse.
“Girl.”
Gritting her teeth, Meggie pretended she didn’t hear Thomas, just as she’d zoned out the glare of the light when he’d walked in. Pink roses entwined with green vines were etched on the scalloped headboard on her bed. The footboard wasn’t so fancy.
Meggie huddled closer to the wall, searching for her knife but finding the razor blade she’d stashed a week ago.
Thomas’s heavy breathing polluted the air and grated on Meggie’s nerves. She clenched her teeth, pretending he wasn’t there, and raised the front of her gown. Thin silvery lines crisscrossed her outer thighs, mapping all the places she controlled what happened to her body. He was moving around in the room but she didn’t care. She knew what was coming, so she pushed his presence out of her head and ran her fingers through her pubic hair. It was so soft, unlike Thomas’s. She swallowed, held her breath, and dug the blade into the flesh on her hip, slicing straight, neat and not very deep, moaning at the pressure, the sting. The hurt.
“Scoot over.”
She did as instructed, shuddering when he pulled her into his arms and pinched her nipples. She dragged the blade through her upper thigh, the new wounds mingling with the older ones, and the blessed numbness she wanted embracing her. He shoved her nightgown above her waist and bit into her shoulder. She recited the words to Wrecking Ball in her head, fisting the blade in her hand, the pain tearing through her just as Thomas inserted his finger…there.
“Your ass is made for fucking,” he breathed.
Warm blood ran down her hand, joining the dried blood from earlier. He fumbled in his pajamas, his finger going in and out of her.
She remained quiet, still, the song beating through her head, her blood sliding down her skin. The overhead light reflected against her window, but Meggie concentrated and found the prettiness of the night. The clear, velvety brightness of the sky. The…