Clearing his throat, Father Wilkins turned to Meggie, his piggish nose and hanging cheeks red. “Mr. Caldwell is right, Megan.”
“Er, I do. I’ll honor him as my husband for the rest of my life.”
Christopher bent and kissed her. “Fuckin’ right.”
“NO kissing,” Father Wilkins snapped, knowing it was a losing battle to make Christopher stop using bad language.
“Don’t get jealous, Rev. Just because you have to beat—“
“Christopher!” Meggie and Johnnie chorused.
“Yo’, Prez, remember what I said?” Mortician offered. “Pussy lock out.”
Meggie cringed, deciding not to ask.
Johnnie shifted next to Christopher and cleared his throat. “Father Wilkins, er, can you get on with it? We can only behave for so long.”
“You mean act like civilized humans?” Zoann called, and Meggie realized the woman didn’t know about Val. “We’re already missing two of you, K-P and Val. At least these Cro-Magnons are still here.”
Meggie scowled at Zoann. “Shut it,” she snapped. She couldn’t blurt the reason for the men’s absences in front of…of civilians. They wouldn’t understand. And whether Zoann liked it or not, she wasn’t a civilian. She was as much a part of the biker lifestyle as Meggie. “Father Wilkins, please get on with it.”
The round, little man sniffed. “Will you accept children lovingly from God—“ His mouth pursed and he frowned at Meggie, not taking his gaze from her as he continued. “Will you bring them up accordingly to the law of Christ and His Church?”
Omigod, the priest did not just take a dig at Christopher. Yes. Yes, he had. But, hopefully—
“Listen up, fuckhead. I ain’t gonna fuck you up for that cuz I don’t want Megan’s day ruined. But keep your fuckin’ opinions to your fuckin’ self.”
So much for hoping Christopher hadn’t realized the potshot.
“Christopher, please,” Meggie implored, grabbing his hand and squeezing. “He didn’t say a word.”
“Didn’t fuckin’ have to. I saw that look and I heard where he put the emphasis. Does the motherfucker think I’m hidin’ a holy sanctuary somewhere? Where the fuck else would our kids worship but a place like this?”
“Oh for God’s sake!” Father Wilkins growled. “Mr. Caldwell—“
“Don’t,” Christopher warned. “Just do the Rite of Marriage. Don’t say nothin’ else cuz you just took His name in vain and that shit a sin, too.”
Father Wilkins gave him an under eyed look. “I’m actually impressed enough that you know that much to continue.” He gave Meggie another tight-lipped scowl and began. “Since it is your intention to enter into marriage, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and His Church.”
Christopher took her hand into his and smiled at her, his green eyes burning with passion. His black hair curled at his nape, pieces falling onto his forehead. Meggie knew she’d never see him in a tuxedo again, but would never forget this day when he’d worn one for her and looked like every woman’s dream.
“I, Christopher, take you, Megan, to be my wife.” The surety of his words resonated through Meggie, his gaze capturing hers and holding her captive as he spoke. “I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.”
“Wonder of wonders, you actually didn’t use the ‘f’ bomb,” Zoann muttered.
“That is cause for celebration,” Father Wilkins said dryly.
Christopher raised his hand and Meggie knew he’d flip off both his sister and the priest. She caught his hand and held tight. “My turn.”
Johnnie shifted next to Christopher, the light falling on his blond hair, sad resignation in his eyes. He nodded and gave her the barest of smiles. Meggie hoped he found a woman to love and who loved him just as fiercely in return. No one deserved it more than Johnnie.
Or Christopher, who was finally accepting she’d stand by him no matter what and protect him with everything in her.
She gazed up at her husband. “I, Megan, take you, Christopher, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you, obey you, and honor you all the days of my life.”
“Obey?” Lacey hissed.
“Notice he didn’t put that in his vows?” Zoann taunted.
“If you bitches—“ Christopher began.
“Christopher, do you take Megan to be your wife?” Father Wilkins interrupted, the ice in his voice telling Meggie he wouldn’t suffer them a moment longer. “Do you promise to be true to her in good times and in bad…”
“Pssst,” Meggie whispered, noticing the hostile glares Christopher and Zoann were exchanging.
Father Wilkins lifted a brow and sighed. “What?” he asked through gritted teeth.
“One moment,” she begged. She’d use her bargaining chip, something she’d kept in her arsenal to keep them in line. “Boys, if we can get through this smoothly, you can change out of the tuxedos as soon as this is over. No waiting until after the reception.”
“I can live with that,” Digger called.
“You fucks heard her.” Christopher grinned wider than he ever had, his eyes gleaming with real happiness. He winked at her. “I love you, Megan.
“I love you, too, Christopher.”
“Okay, Rev, we gonna behave,” Christopher promised. “Let’s finish up the ceremony so I can get the fuck outta this monkey suit.”
Unable to stop herself, Meggie burst out laughing and Christopher joined her, everything they’d endured to get to this moment more than worth it.
Chapter 18
Megan was already flushed from their lovemaking and, now, she turned beet red as the stewardess glared at her as Christopher led her back to their seats in the first-class cabin of their London-bound flight.
“You’re soooo bad, Christopher,” Megan chirped, plopping next to him in her seat by the the window.
“What the fuck ever.” He chuckled and stretched his legs out before him. “That ain’t what you was sayin’ when you was comin’ on my tongue and my cock. As I recall, you was sayin’ Christopher you’re soooo good.”
“Shut. Up.”
He leaned over and kissed her. “Nope. When you cover yourself with that blanket, I’m gonna rub your pussy again,” he whispered against her ear, nuzzling her hair.
Recognizing how much the idea turned her on from the deepening flush in her cheeks, he grinned. She didn’t pretend, so, instead of protesting, she sniffed, snapped her mouth shut and faced forward.
He massaged the back of her head, remembering how gorgeous she’d looked in her wedding gown and all that she’d given him when she’d pledged herself to him in a church. The events of this afternoon—the disposal of Cee Cee—seemed like a dream. He kissed the shell of her ear. She fucking believed in him to the fucking depths of her soul. He’d ducked out after the photos. Some of them had included all of them, including Megan and CJ, in their cuts. Unfortunately, Val couldn’t be in the photo and K-P had remained at the hospital until Val made it out of surgery. Once he’d left the reception, Christopher had gotten to the clubhouse and changed into some old clothes he didn’t fucking need anymore. Once he’d finished in the meat shack, he rushed and cleaned himself and put his tuxedo back on.
He was glad Megan had insisted having their reception away from the club. If it had been there, he would’ve tainted it with what went on in that fucking death shed. And he didn’t want anything tainting his girl. She was sweet and good—despite everything—and he wanted to keep her that way.
When he’d walked back in, she’d been dancing with Johnnie. Of course she had. Motherfucker wouldn’t waste a chance to take Megan in his arms with Christopher gone, but it satisfied Christopher when she left Johnnie on the dance floor to come to him.
“Thank you for not taking too long with whatever you had to do,” she’d whispered.
He’d smiled and kissed her
, then led her to the dance floor without a word.
Now, he took her hand in his and rubbed his thumb in her palm. “Megan,” he said quietly, then snapped his mouth shut, not sure where to start. He was good as fuck at being dirty with her, but sweet words didn’t come easy to him. Even when their sex was gentle, he still thought of it as fucking. Deep down, though, he knew he was making love to her. But he wondered if she knew. Did she understand how he felt about her even though he just said he loved her and none of the other romantic bullshit she deserved?
“Megan, I ain’t a romantic motherfucker.”
She looked up at him and gave him an uncertain smile.
He pulled an envelope out of the inside of his jacket and tapped her nose with it. “This letter here is from me to you.” He shrugged. “Cuz I’m me and I ain’t gonna walk around tellin’ you no sonnets every-fuckin-day.” He picked up her hand. “But I promise you, baby. On every anniversary, I’m gonna give you a letter and I’m gonna tell you.” He swallowed. What he was about to say would put his feelings out there more than he ever had, even with Megan. “Maybe, some of your romance shit rubbed off on me. Not sure, baby.”
She cocked her head to the side in that way she had when she listened intently to something.
He laid the letter in her lap, tempted to let her read it, and be done with it. “I love pussy—“ He paused at her frown and pulled at his hair. “I love girls, Megan. I studied bitches as a pastime.” He cleared his throat and winced at her wide eyes. Maybe, he should’ve stuck to the letter. The shit coming out his mouth wasn’t the shit he’d written.
“This is—“
He held up a hand. “Wait, baby. Let me finish.”
Her look skeptical, she nodded.
“But ain’t no girl I ever met make me as hot as you do just by thinkin’ about you. From the moment I met you, Megan, I couldn’t fuckin’ focus on nothin’ and nobody else. All I could think about was you. Wantin’ you and wantin’ to protect you. I once told you you was gonna drive some poor motherfucker insane and I’m one lucky fuck that it’s me. A girl who challenge her man, hardly never fuckin’ listen to him, tell him to go fuck himself when he pisses her the fuck off is worth every fuckin’ minute of every fuckin’ day. No matter what, baby, I’m always with you. You,” he emphasized and grabbed her neck to pull her close and kiss her. “Those pretty pink lips.” He glided a hand down her arm. “Your beautiful, little body.” He bumped her nose against his. “Those gorgeous fuckin’ eyes of yours. All of you. We real with each other. Me and you. You don’t have to hide a motherfuckin’ thing from me. You can be you. Scared. Happy. Wild. Angry. Kinky. I don’t give a fuck cuz I always got you. No matter how many times you need liftin’ up--” He held out his hand and tapped his fingers against his palm—“I’ll catch you and raise you back where you need to be. I love the fuck outta you, Megan, and I ain’t ever gonna stop.”
Megan let out half-laugh, half-sob, tears streaking her cheeks. Christopher swiped them with his thumbs.
“I love you, too, Christopher. You make me hot and lustful for you, but it’s more than that. It’s about the two of us. You make me feel secure and loved and wanted. You’re a wonderful father and husband.” She placed a hand over his heart. “And you have a heart, Christopher. A heart that made me fall in love with you. I’ll always be here for you. No matter how many times you fall—“She grabbed his hand and kissed the back of it—“I’ll always be there to pull you up. You own me body and soul. You’re my everything.”
He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her with all the tenderness flowing between them. Fuck him, but the look in her eyes made him want her pussy. His nostrils flared. “I want some more pussy, baby.”
“Why did you ruin our romantic moment?” she complained.
“Megan, every-fuckin-thing I said was the God’s honest truth, but I can only take so much mushy shit and mushy time is fuckin’ over.”
She shook her head.
“C’mon, baby. You know you want to give me some more pussy in that small fuckin’ airplane bathroom right over there. You a freaky little nympho.”
She smirked at him. “Yeah, but I’m your freaky little nympho.”
She sure the fuck was and Christopher had never felt luckier.
THE END
Misunderstood
By Kathryn Kelly
Edited by Crystal Cuffley
Cover by Crystal Cuffley
Copyright © 2014 by Kathryn C. Kelly
Copyright © 2014 Cover Art by Crystal Cuffley
All rights reserved. This e-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.
Blurb
John Donovan has been left in charge of the Death Dwellers' MC while the club president is on his honeymoon. With six days left till Outlaw's return and smooth sailing so far, complications bubble up. As the clock ticks, he's determined to bring everything under control.
Kendall Miller, an attorney and the ex-girlfriend of another MC President, is in deep trouble. When her little sister is taken by her ex, she needs to report to a man who is frantic for information on the highest ranking members of Johnnie's club. When she suddenly shows up at the clubhouse and arouses the suspicions of a very handsome blond biker, she finds herself being taken as his prisoner.
Evil is all around them. To save herself and her sister, Kendall has to rely on the man she betrayed. To save his club, Johnnie has to trust Kendall's story. Before it's too late. Because lives will be lost and hearts will be broken.
WARNING: This isn’t an easy or light read. Please be advised. The way to Johnnie’s and Kendall’s resolution involves death, violence, destruction, a sexual assault scene and suicide.
Dedication
I can’t begin to express how touched I am at all the well wishes, constructive criticism, helpful advice, and lovely emails and IMs I’ve received since the release of Misled. I love interacting with everyone. When I’m a bundle of nerves, you all make it worthwhile. This one’s for all of you who waited for Johnnie’s book.
Misunderstood is dedicated to my mom. Your conversations are priceless. You’re my role model and my rock.
Misunderstood is also dedicated to Shannon Burdsall, Melanie Cooper, Geri Anne Ejosa, Emily Smith, Nanee Magee, Dawn Griego, and Tamara McDonald for pulling me off the ledge several times over the course of writing the book, answering all my questions, and giving me invaluable encouragement.
Mistress Dibs…Crystal Cuffley…you’re a whip cracking mama, I swear, girl. Thank you for being right there no matter the time of day. I dedicate Misunderstood to you and your artistic eye that creates beautiful covers.
Misunderstood is dedicated to Wanda Polk and her battalion of Outlaw fans, Mavis Ifegwu for always, always laughing, Tina Tillman for pushing me to finish the next book because of her Outlaw-withdrawals, and Zoey Megahey for the humorous IMs. I know all about your little sisters, Zoey. Since I don’t want to hurt their feelings, I’m dedicating Misunderstood to Kate and Alegra.
A SPECIAL dedication to Shannon Burdsall and Zoey Megahey for supplying me with hot guy photos on the regular. Keep them coming!
If I’ve forgotten to mention anyone personally, well, my brain can only remember so much, so, please don’t take offense. Just know, I appreciate each and every one of you.
Table of 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
Chapter 33
PREFACE
I’ve looked around and envied others the solid ground on which they grew up. Because, I know, as with all shaky foundations, eventually the walls come tumbling down and secrets are brought to light. I feel the tick-tock of the clock, the sands of time slipping away granule by granule. Miniscule time bombs awaiting detonation. Finally, the day I’ve feared arrives. The explosions rocks our world.
Now, everyone will discover I’m not the perfect, easy-going man I project myself to be. They will see that evil lurks from within—my family and my heart.
Because my family is different.
We are founded and forged in heartache and betrayal.
Unless I intercede, so will we be destroyed by the same.
Chapter 1
A sound awakened Kendall Miller and she sat up, blinking, before stretching her arms above her head. A blond man stood in the center of the room, his silver-gray gaze never leaving her as he withdrew a cigarette from his cut and lit it.
She studied the burning tip, the flame consuming the paper and tobacco, before it dwindled down to a fiery glow. Smoke plumed into the air and Kendall stared at the evaporating curlicues, transfixed at the tangible metaphor of what her life had become. Despair washed through her and everything rushed back. Her failure tonight made her ache inside and undermined the sliver of peace she’d somehow acquired a little while ago, when she’d first stepped into this room.
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 53
