Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  The two men hustled away and Boy pocketed his piece. Christopher and Boy greeted one another much the same as him and Mouse had, adding a brief bro hug.

  “Here’s your woman, Outlaw,” Mouse said from behind him.

  Christopher turned and saw Megan smiling at him. He bent and kissed her. “Hey, babe.”

  “Hey, you.” She smiled at Mouse. “Thanks.”

  Mouse nodded. “My pleasure,” he said and walked away.

  “Where the fuck you been?”

  “Talking to Momma, then Mouse and I got to talking. Before I knew it, twenty minutes had passed.”

  Christopher shrugged and cursed when he realized he’d lost his cigarette during the exchange with fuckhead and dumb fuck, so he lit another one and said, “Don’t worry, baby. You ain’t missed shit.”

  Letting his smoke hang from his lips, he turned Megan toward Boy and wrapped his arms around her waist. “This my wife.”

  Boy’s gold grill gleamed when he smiled. “That’s where you’ve been, huh?” he asked with a laugh.

  “Yeah. Gettin’ hitched and makin’ my son.”

  “Yes, indeed, Outlaw.” Boy gave Megan the once over. Three fucking times. “Always knew you were a smart fucking man.” He held out a big hand to Megan. “I’m Boy.”

  Megan grinned and placed her hand in his. “A pleasure,” she said. “I’m Megan.”

  “You two stayin’ and partyin’ a minute, right?” Boy asked with a shit-eating grin that Christopher felt like knocking the fuck away.

  “Yes,” Megan answered. “We came for your party.”

  Boy nodded and lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t fucking say? Mighty strange. I recall having a birthday last year and the year before and don’t remember seeing Outlaw around.”

  Christopher glared at Boy and kissed the top of Megan’s head, breathing in the scent of her hair to calm himself. “Didn’t get an invitation,” he responded, sucking on his cigarette and squinting his watering eyes when the smoke hit him the wrong way. “Don’t want to invade another man’s turf uninvited.”

  Boy laughed. “Still got that fucking silver tongue, I see.”

  “Ain’t nothin’ but a thing,” Christopher said with a smile. “I need to fuckin’ talk to you. Is there a quiet fuckin’ place?”

  “For you? Always?” Boy beckoned a girl over, who wore a strip of silver material that concealed her nipples but kept her aureoles revealed. The outfit twisted across her belly in an ‘x’ pattern, met at her pussy, and just managed to cover it. “Take Outlaw’s old lady to Danicka.”

  Megan glanced up at him. “His old lady, baby,” Christopher explained.

  Tits bouncing, the girl sauntered past Christopher, revealing a bubble of an ass, round cheeks exposed, that was hard not to admire. “Follow me,” she told Megan.”

  Biting down on her lip, Megan hesitated, but when the girl lifted a pierced brow, she went behind her.

  Five minutes later, Christopher had a glass of tequila, a cold beer, and the situation about Cee Cee on the table. “So far, me and my boys ain’t found no motherfucker matchin’ that description in any of the area clubs. Most recent fuckin’ turnover for president was my club.”

  “Agreed.” Boy leaned back in his chair. “You believed his claim?”

  Christopher shrugged, not revealing Cee Cee’s declaration of being his father. Listening to Megan’s description and having Johnnie verify it made Christopher believe their blood ties.

  The other shit? He didn’t know. He kept his finger on the pulse of the activities of both his allies and his rivals, but green motherfuckers liked to test established outfits.

  “Can’t say. Could be a new outfit, taking balls in hands to get their rep out there and establish cred.”

  Boy rubbed his eyes. “Fuck. That’s all the fuck we need.”

  “Yeah, stupid motherfuckers challengin’ the hierarchy.” Christopher tasted his tequila, held it in his mouth and sipped from his bottle of beer to chase it. “Usually, it’s young dickheads without the sense to fuckin’ know better.”

  Unless it was personal like Cee Cee claimed.

  “I’ll put some feelers out,” Boy promised, pulling out a baggie and cigarette paper.

  Christopher downed the rest of his alcohol. Fuck, he needed a blunt right now. “Pass, brother,” he said, watching with longing as Boy began to lay the grass on the paper.

  “You clean?” he asked, not pausing in his task.

  Christopher chuckled. “Fuck, no. Just don’t fuck with it when I have my girl with me.”

  Boy waved away Christopher’s reservations. “Danicka won’t leave her and she’d never make the mistake of coming back here unless I give her permission.” He finished the roll and placed it in front of Christopher before starting on a second one. “Let’s go in the alley. I’ll have a couple whores brought to us to suck our dicks.”

  Christopher got to his feet and pulled out his wallet, taking out some bills and placing them in front of Boy, not only for the blunt but for the anticipated assistance in the Cee Cee matter. “No, bro,” he said, pocketing Aunt Mary. “Ain’t happenin’. I love and respect my girl too much for that bullshit.”

  Boy gave Christopher an under-eyed look. “You saying I don’t respect my bitch?”

  Christopher folded his arms. “Don’t give a fuck if you respect your woman or not. If I thought that I sure the fuck would tell you, but since I haven’t thought about it because I couldn’t give two fucks, I don’t care if you respect the bitch or not. Besides, it ain’t my fuckin’ business, so I ain’t commentin’ and if you got a problem with what the fuck I said, just deal with it, motherfucker.”

  Shaking his head and pocketing the ten bills, Boy shook his head. “Still off the fucking chain, Outlaw.”

  “Just keep your fuckin’ ears to the ground and send me whatever the fuck you find out.”

  When Christopher returned to the main room, he searched out Megan and saw her talking to a group of women, including the two bitches from earlier and Danicka.

  He considered intercepting the conversation but whatever damage those bitches had wreaked was already done and pulling Megan away would only make the situation worse. Sighing, he went to the bar and ordered a setup. By then, Boy had joined Christopher and they decided to play a game of pool. At the end of the game, he’d had enough of those gossiping bitches keeping Megan away from him, so he removed her from the circle of bitches.

  After buying a bottle of tequila and six beers, he guided her toward the back, where the real party was taking place. The moment they stepped outside, they heard moaning. Two bikers leaned against the back wall, getting their dicks sucked.

  He slanted a glance at her, dying to know her thoughts. And just what the fuck those bitches had been telling her. Taking her hand into his own and keeping a firm grip on her, he weaved through the crowd of dancing people. Sprinkled throughout the group were one or two bitches getting fucked by two, three, or four bikers. Other motherfuckers passed blunts around and Christopher didn’t doubt some of the shit had more than just fucking grass in it.

  This was hardcore, a side of the life Megan hadn’t been exposed to because he hadn’t allowed it. He’d kept her away when things got too out of hand with the boys. Her head was swiveling in all directions, her wide eyes taking in everything.

  He found a spot for them on the perimeter of the craziness. His fucking world. She loved him? But did she love this side of him? The side related to Cee Cee? No. Not Cee Cee. Sebastian Fucking Caldwell.

  “Dirty, filthy little idiot.”

  “Devil’s spawn.”

  “Evil little bastard.”

  His grandfather’s voice floated in his head and Christopher’s skin crawled at the names thrown at him from his earliest recollections. His mother had always sobbed her heart out from her daddy’s meanness.

  Because of him.

  His sisters had sobbed, too.

  Because of him. Because his carelessness had gotten their mother killed.r />
  Megan sobbed. Because of him. Because that’s what he was good for.

  He dropped onto the ground and opened the bottle of tequila before pulling out his blunt. He took a swig of liquor, narrowed his eyes at Megan. She was pale as a motherfucker and his heart hurt.

  “This is my world, baby.”

  Her gaze fastened to his and she swallowed. “This had been my daddy’s, too.”

  He glared at her, not wanting to think about her old man since that shit was as bad as thinking about his old man.

  She reached over and took the bottle from him, bringing it to her lips and taking a small sip. Nothing happened, so she took in a mouthful and swallowed. Her eyes watered and she choked. Christopher pulled the bottle from her and patted her back until she caught her breath.

  He drank from the bottle again.

  “Any news?”

  “About?”

  “Cee Cee?” she supplied. “Isn’t that why you’ve been leaving us every night? Looking for him.”

  Yeah. He’d also brought her here so she could see that she had nothing to worry about. He wanted to include her like she expected, but, fuck him, whatever he told her could be used against her if any of his rivals got to her.

  “Don’t matter why the fuck I’ve been goin’ out, Megan. We can’t stay joined at the fuckin’ hip for fuckin ever.”

  Her eyes watered and her chin wobbled.

  “Why are you doing this?” she whispered.

  Because his demons were chasing him and overwhelming him. Instead of answering—since he didn’t have one—he lit up Aunt Mary and sucked in, holding the smoke to allow it to seep into his head before exhaling.

  Megan watched him, her head cocked to the side, not bothering to put a little distance between them. None of them smoked often around her, but, when they did, she stepped away from their group.

  “I want to try it,” she said, shocking the shit out of him.

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. “No.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “C’mon, Megan. This shit ain’t for you.”

  “I might like it,” she argued.

  “Fuck off with the reverse psychology bullshit.” He shoved the roll at her. “Go the fuck ahead. You wanna get fuckin’ high, do it.”

  Instead of turning her nose up, she grabbed it from him, put it to her lips and inhaled, mimicking what he’d done a few minutes before. She held it in a moment before she started coughing like a motherfucker.

  He snatched the joint from her and glowered at her. Fuck him, if she wasn’t the most reckless fucking brat he’d ever met. “If I decided to jump from a fuckin’ buildin’ you gonna fuckin’ do that, too?” he growled, once her coughing fit had passed.

  She drew in a deep breath and swayed. “You’re spoiling for an argument and I’m not going to give you your way.”

  Too fucking late. He was furious and he knew the bullshit he was feeling was directed at motherfucking Cee Cee. He knew taking it out on Megan was a fuckhead move, but he wasn’t no paragon of goodness and she wanted to be with him, so she had to take him the fuck as he came.

  Megan crawled closer to him, her pupils dilated, her eyes red-rimmed, the scent of alcohol and herb rising from her like steam. His sweet, innocent Megan was high and drunk.

  She licked her lips before rising on her knees to kiss him. He despised the taste of her mouth right now, despised himself a little more for doing this to her.

  She straddled his hips and rocked against his rising dick, thumbing his lips, even her fingers smelling like weed. “We’re passed this, Christopher,” she managed to slur. “Don’t push me away. Don’t beat yourself up for Cee Cee’s actions. CJ and I need you. We love you no matter what.”

  Megan’s words hit him straight the fuck in the gut and arrowed to his heart.

  She clutched his cut, leaned back, and frowned up at him. “I just hope I learn how to please you in bed.”

  What the fuck?

  “Rose and Chantal…they told me how you like to watch two girls make love before or after you…and…them…” Her face crumpled. “I don’t like girls that way and I couldn’t stand watching you with other girls, either.”

  Jesus. He’d needed to be fucked up for doing this to her. He wrapped her in his arms. “Megan, baby, I don’t want no other girl. Fuck, baby, when I’m thinkin’ sideways, lookin’ backwards, bowin’ my head down, you make me look up. Into the light. At all the goodness in you. You’re the sun and the moon to me, a bright shinin’ star in my fucked up world.” And he’d hurt her. By exposing her to this. By allowing her to get fucked up.

  She groaned and leaned her head against his chest. “I’m not feeling too good, Christopher.”

  He was feeling even worse. Because whether he liked it or not—whether she admitted it or not—he had every rotten cell of his father inside him.

  All he needed to do was look at her current condition as proof.

  Two days later, Christopher glanced at his watch and cursed. He had one hour before he had to get to the church for the pre-marital counseling shit that dickhead insisted him and Megan do before he married them. Motherfucker. They were already fucking married, so this bullshit was fucking pointless. But Megan wanted that church wedding, so Christopher had to suffer through that priest’s advising them on shit they were better off figuring out on their fucking own.

  What the fuck did he know any-fucking-way? Not like the motherfucker had ever been married. Probably never had pussy, either, with the vow of celibacy they were required to take.

  Christopher held up the ice pick and dangled it in front of the motherfucker strapped to the wall in the shed. He glanced at Mortician, hoping like fuck he didn’t have to pass this job to him, Digger, Val or Johnny. To him, Cee was personal. He wanted to exact the vengeance on everyone connected to him. Like now, with this stupid fuck, who, so far had four holes in him, all courtesy of Christopher.

  Christopher paced in front of the moaning fuckhead. “I ain’t repeatin’ this shit but one more time, motherfucker. It’s been brought to my attention you the fucker who brought Cee Cee to my fuckin’ club.”

  He refrained from taking a bigger instrument and making fuckhead feel real pain. Both Megan and his mother needed avenging for Cee Cee’s actions and if he had to fuck-up a hundred motherfuckers to get to that motherfucker, he would.

  He shoved the pick into the man’s thigh, scowling at the dickhead’s bitchified scream.

  “As far as I fuckin’ know, ain’t no new fuckin’ presidents been elected in none of the Dwellers’ local support clubs. Me and my boys have spent four fuckin’ days checkin’ that shit.”

  “Outlaw, pl-please. I sw-swear I didn’t br-bring him here to cause trouble,” the man cried.

  Christopher poked his shoulder with the ice pick tip, red oozing from the white skin. “Then how the fuck he got to be your guest?”

  The man gasped. “I…he was at the Haven last week,” he said around sniffles.

  Fucking pussy. Sniveling like a fucking bitch-ass punk. Christopher jabbed his other shoulder—deeper—in pure fucking disgust.

  What the fuck was this pussy’s name any-fucking-way?

  “He…he said he was an old friend of the family—“

  Christopher let out a roar of pure rage. How many times had he heard about the friend of the family violating his mother than being present to sign his birth certificate? He stabbed the man’s jaw and would’ve done it again if Johnnie hadn’t stopped him.

  “That’s what Cee Cee said,” his cousin reminded him. “Not this stupid fuck.”

  “Yeah, Outlaw, he just the fucking messenger,” Digger said, nodding in agreement.

  “At one time, messengers got fucked up for deliverin’ bad fuckin’ news,” Christopher snapped, his vision blurring with the red haze of his anger.

  “You have blood all over you.” Val pointed to his jeans. “You and Meggie need to leave for the church in ten fucking minutes.”

  He stared at the bleedi
ng, crying motherfucker, wanting to take out his rage and frustration on someone. The humiliation he’d suffered at the hands of his grandparents for years because of what that motherfucker had done to his mother. The shame and degradation his mother had suffered, for that matter. Now, Cee Cee, the man who’d provided the seed that had become him, had made the fatal mistake of fucking with Megan.

  He blinked, needing to clear his head, needing to think.

  His boys were shuffling, staring at him and waiting for his final decision. Kill this stupid fuck for bringing hell to Christopher’s doorstep? Or not?

  Megan’s face rose in his head and he growled in frustration, administering one last stab in the man’s knee before pitching the ice pick against the wall. He unfastened the man’s restraints and watched as he sagged to the ground, sobbing at Christopher’s feet. He kicked him away, satisfied at the crack of bone he heard.

  “You listen to me, motherfucker. Unless you a fuckin’ moron, you fuckin’ knew you ain’t never fuckin’ seen that fuckhead around here before in your fuckin’ life. He coulda been any-fuckin-body you invited here.” He crouched down and pulled the man’s head up by his hair, the weight of his nine heavy in his cut. The fucker deserved to have his piece shoved in his mouth so Christopher could pull the trigger. “And it fuckin’ was. You brought a fuckin’ demon to my door. But I’m gonna let you fuckin’ live. Know fuckin’ why?”

  “No! No!” he sobbed, holding out his hands as if they’d stop a bullet. Or prevent Christopher from shooting again.

  Because I have a wife who thinks I’m better than a cold-blooded killer. “Because I want you to find that motherfucker. You have ‘til the night before my fuckin’ weddin’ to deliver that fuckhead to me. If you fuckin’ don’t…if me or my boys gotta fuckin’ find him, then they gonna have motherfuckers out lookin’ for you and I swear to you, they won’t be able to find any piece of your fuckin’ ass usin’ the best microscope in the world. You hear me?”

  He nodded and Christopher jerked his head away, then got up, glared at Val, Digger, Johnnie, and Mortician, and ordered, “get him the fuck off the premises. Have him fuckin’ gone before I come out with Megan.”