Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  “Ow!” Johnnie snarled, shoving him back, pain and fury rushing through him. “You big dick, that fucking hurt.”

  Instead of releasing him, Big Joe squeezed tighter, drawing more blood from the wound. “You ever put your fucking hands on me again, I’ll leave little fucking pieces of you all over the fucking place.” He shook him. “Got me?”

  His pride already stung from Leonidas and he had a mixture of betrayal, hurt, and rage at Christopher and for Christopher. Now, Big Joe was there, using his size and strength to try and intimidate him.

  Johnnie glared at him, ignoring pain so intense he almost trembled. It felt as if Big Joe was digging into the knife wound.

  “I said I had two things I needed to tell you.”

  “I’m through talking to you.”

  Big Joe narrowed his blue eyes, still not releasing him. Ass. HOLE.

  “Logan’s not in the best frame of mind right now, Johnnie, boy,” he began.

  “Nothing new there,” he bit out before he thought about his words, then snapped his mouth shut. Grandda didn’t act mean on purpose and it was betrayal of the worse kind if he spoke badly about him.

  Big Joe chuckled. “You little smart ass.” He lessened his grip on Johnnie’s shoulder and heaved in a sigh. “More than normal is what I’m trying to say.”

  Johnnie concentrated on making the pain go away. “Why?” he mumbled, drawing in deep breaths.

  “Your dad—” He heaved in another breath and Johnnie flinched at the sorrow blooming in Big Joe’s face. “Your grandfather—”

  Grandda had been arguing a lot lately with Johnnie’s dad but Simon was his son. Grandda would overlook Dad’s fighting and thefts from Grandda’s safe, wouldn’t he? He’d heard Dad explain the reasons to Grandda. Two years ago, Johnnie’s mother had been killed and Simon had wanted to forget his wife’s death, so he’d made investments. Not wise investments, though. And not legal ones. He’d needed to repay his debts. Dad had told everything to Grandda. He wouldn’t have…Grandda demanded respect, so he might’ve seen Dad’s stealing as disrespectful. He might’ve have killed...No, he wouldn’t have…which meant—

  Johnnie lunged for Big Joe. “What did you do to my father?”

  “Nothing,” the man snarled, shoving Johnnie away without breaking a sweat, although he looked ready to break Johnnie.

  “Then where is he? The way you started, I thought something had happened to him.”

  “Something happened to him all right.” Big Joe’s gaze flickered over him, before he pulled out cigarettes.

  Johnnie noticed the man’s bloodied fingers and realized it was his blood staining the biker’s hand. “Where’s my father?”

  “Dead, Johnnie boy. Simon’s dead. He attacked Logan this morning and your Grandda had no choice but to kill him.”

  Chapter 13

  Johnnie got on the road and headed out of Hortensia as fog and light mist rolled in. Perhaps, going to Long Beach right now was beneficial. Operations at the medical laboratory needed checking. As one of their legitimate fronts to launder club money, Johnnie kept the books.

  Turning his head to steal a glance at Kendall, he quickly refocused on the road, disappointed at the shadows swallowing her features, making him unable to discern if she slept or not. It didn’t matter. He was damn near committing treason on her behalf. Christopher expected them to get rid of all their enemies. He didn’t want anything touching Megan.

  Fuck. If the memory of how perfectly Kendall’s long legs had wrapped around his waist and how her breasts overflowed from his hands didn’t haunt him and send blood rushing to his cock, he would’ve extinguished her. But she’d offered him pussy on her own. He hadn’t demanded it from her, so refusing her generosity would be an insult. Besides, he was risking his life by keeping her alive since he didn’t know what the fuck she was up to.

  A confused combination of guilt and longing surfaced over the woman curled up on his middle seat. Megs still invaded his thoughts and his dreams. Sometimes, Johnnie wondered if he’d made love to her would he have been able to rid himself of…of whatever the fuck it was he felt for her.

  At other times, he tried to understand how two completely different women like Megan and Kendall had so captivated him. Megan had been barely legal when he’d met her, hadn’t even finished high school. Kendall, on the other hand, was an attorney and closer to his age. Maybe, the connection was their fragile state? The recognition they needed someone to champion and protect them.

  After Iona—the only girl his feelings had gone beyond superficial for before Megan—he’d sworn to stick to club whores and women familiar with the biker lifestyle. Between Iona’s demands and Big Joe’s shenanigans, Johnnie had turned in his patch and went nomad. Not six months later, Iona left him because he’d been so unhappy without his brothers around him. She’d been close to his age, too, in medical school, and she’d wanted normalcy. But Johnnie had never had normalcy.

  From the time Iona walked away, Johnnie stuck with women who wouldn’t demand much. He’d been happy as fuck, too. Utilizing the business degree he’d earned, managing the club’s laboratory. Being part of the club yet far enough away to stay out of trouble. Keeping tabs on Logan and the knowledge of his existence away from Christopher.

  Then Megs arrived with all her baggage and beauty. For the first time in a long time, Johnnie had been jealous of Outlaw. Truly JEALOUS. Fucking green with it. So much so that he’d made a play for her, gotten a small taste, and then pulled back.

  He could’ve gotten into Megs’s panties.

  Johnnie gripped the steering wheel at the thought of her panties. And her pussy. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

  Megs was young and all kinds of naïve where men were concerned. And she liked him. As in sexually. Johnnie knew it. Christopher knew it. And Megan knew it.

  But she loved Christopher. She saw the worthiness in him that only Johnnie and a few others saw, so in all good conscience Johnnie hadn’t been able to press his advantage when he’d had the opportunity. Two opportunities. The second time, the evening of Aunt Patricia’s funeral, he’d had every intention of going to Megs’s motel room and claiming her. Talking her into telling everyone the baby she carried belonged to him.

  He’d thought long and hard about it, sat in the parking lot of the motel long after she’d disappeared inside when he’d dropped her off after his aunt’s funeral. The moment he’d met her had run rampant in his head. The past weeks he’d spent with her.

  Johnnie had known love, though. Received it—however sick and misplaced that love had been. Accepted it when he’d been young and innocent and ignorant. And given a semblance of it to Iona. Christopher deserved no less. So, that fateful day, Johnnie had driven back to Long Beach, gotten his cut, and headed back to the MC. Once there, he’d given Christopher an ultimatum—claim Megan and their baby. Or Johnnie would.

  Only Johnnie hadn’t known how hard it would be to see them together. He hadn’t grasped the regret he’d feel every time he caught her gaze and she blushed to the roots of her golden hair. He would’ve called any man crazy if they’d told him he’d be punched with lust and envy as he watched her belly expand with Christopher’s baby. And he’d be called a pervert to the nth degree if anyone ever knew how he fantasized about seeing Megs get the baby inside her in the first place. Or being the one to do it.

  Then, five weeks ago, Kendall had come along. Her appearance at Christopher’s bachelor party had intrigued Johnnie. He’d thought about her from time-to-time. Advanced perv that he was, he’d even imagined fucking both Megs and Kendall. Okay, so, the fact he’d been fucking two random chicks had helped his imagination tremendously.

  He hadn’t believed he’d ever see Kendall again. But, now she was there, armed with a shitload of trouble and lies. Now, he had no choice but to admit his attraction to her and how often he’d thought about her.

  Johnnie sighed. Christopher would be home in a matter of days and he had to make everything right by then. He especially had to h
ave the spy he was harboring either punished or exonerated. If not, it’d be his ass. If he wasn’t killed, he’d be kicked out of the club.

  Fuck.

  The countdown was on.

  A little over two hours later, Johnnie halted the Navigator in front of his house. Kendall’s breathing had evened out into sleep and he decided that was fine with him. He didn’t feel like talking to her right now. On edge and out of sorts, instead of turning into his driveway, he continued on to the house at the end of the private road. While the engine idled, Johnnie stared at the two-story structure with the wrap-around porch and wood case windows. Hedges and beach bindweed, overgrown with neglect, centered the double-entrance, circular driveway. Silence surrounded the house, the roar of the ocean a sad melody to the deserted place.

  Christopher’s house. He’d moved his mother there for safety purposes. It ended up being the place where Johnnie had fallen in love with Megs. After Aunt Patricia’s murder, Christopher had intended to sell it, but Johnnie swore he’d look after it. He hadn’t quite lived up to that promise. He’d been unable to part with it but unable to deal with it. After everything that happened—much of which Christopher knew nothing of—Johnnie had visited Aunt Patricia, not only to keep watch over her as Christopher ordered but also because she was a reminder of his mother. Solace. Comfort. Maternal affection. She hadn’t understood the callous manipulations of her father and Johnnie wished he’d never discovered them.

  Sometimes, he viewed her death as a blessing. Because the day he’d feared most had arrived: Logan Donovan had returned.

  Although Big Joe’s out-of-control spiral had been a shock, Johnnie found it fitting that the club’s recent problems all went back to family members. The Death Dwellers had been founded in blood. Blood bathed the club’s very soul. And Johnnie had no doubt blood would be its downfall.

  This club had gained its status through the sweat and tears of his grandmother. His mother. His aunt.

  His cousin…

  Goddammit. Thoughts of Christopher hurt right now. For years, Johnnie had made excuses for Logan. Until that long ago day when everything changed. When Johnnie discovered the secret he’d vowed to take to his grave.

  He’d been doing a damn good job of it, too, not giving a fuck about anything Christopher did or who Christopher did it to. Because Logan wasn’t around. Because the secret that could destroy them all couldn’t have been tortured out of Johnnie.

  Even when Sebastian Caldwell had made his appearance and wreaked havoc, Johnnie had stuck to his promise. Because, really…he hadn’t given a fuck. He’d lived with the lie for so long…he hadn’t given a fuck. He’d done what he had to do to protect Christopher.

  His president. His best friend. His cousin.

  And his half-brother.

  Needing a drink, Johnnie drove back to his house and got out of his SUV. He walked around to Kendall’s side, opened the door and shook her awake. The car’s inside light remained on, allowing Johnnie to see her long lashes flutter against her pale cheeks. Her eyelashes were long and thick and, like her brows, darker than her hair. He tapped her shoulder again and her eyes flew open.

  She sucked in a breath, shrinking back when she saw him. “I-I thought everything was a dream.”

  Johnnie lifted a brow, wishing everything had been a dream. She’d placed him in one fucked up position. “More like a nightmare.” One he hadn’t awakened from in years. Leaning over her, he dragged her to the edge of the seat then lifted her into his arms, before slamming the door shut with his hip. His footfalls crunched against the gravel walkway between his driveway and his house. It was a struggle but he managed to keep her in his arms and open the door. Inside, however, he laid her on the floor to disable the alarm, then went around flipping on lights and opening windows to clear away the musty, closed-up smell.

  Fuck. He had no food or alcohol and cursed. Although he wasn’t hungry, he didn’t know the time of Kendall’s last meal. He’d ask as soon as he uncuffed her. Carrying her to the living room, he laid her on the couch and began unpackaging her. Mortician was good at his work, so Johnnie had to cut the rope away and remove the burlap sack from her lower half before he could take her cuffs off.

  Once he completed his tasks, he stared at her beautiful body. A small hint of jealousy that Mort saw Kendall undressed punched him in the gut and he growled. No, the brother had touched her to undress her himself. But that’s what Mort did, so Johnnie had no reason to feel so irritated.

  Groaning, Kendall sat upright, rubbing her wrists, her hair a fiery fall around her. Cuff marks bruised her wrists and ankles, the rough burlap material abrading her skin after being wrapped so tightly because of the rope.

  The light bounced off her skin and reflected in her eyes, illuminating the irises with a combination of brilliance—topaz, amber, citrine. “Johnnie—”

  “Save it.” He held up a hand to interrupt her, then stood and stalked away from her.

  A few moments later, he sat at the breakfast bar and hung his head in his hands.

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  Scowling because she’d followed him, he cut his eyes in the direction of her voice. “You’ve done enough, so thanks but no thanks, Mata Hari.”

  She sidled closer to him, dressed in only her panties and bra. “We can make each other feel good,” she offered in a shaky voice. Her hand fluttered to her belly. Before she touched herself, she balled her hand into a fist and dropped it to her side. Johnnie studied her, the swell of her breasts, bigger than he remembered them.

  Her attempt to school her gorgeous face into nonchalance failed. Still, he understood her sad wariness. Her life rested in the palm of his hands. That alone was enough to cause her peaked, flushed countenance.

  But he’d been around pregnant women, and he remembered the actions and look of one in particular. Kendall radiated with that special glow.

  Johnnie straightened. “Are you pregnant?”

  A gamut of emotions rushed across her face at the brusque question. Her hands fluttered toward her belly again. Like before, she stopped herself and went rigid. “Is that any business of yours?”

  Was it? At the moment, it was, but he was too fucking tired to get into a fucking debate with her.

  “Not really,” he admitted with ease.

  He’d used condoms with her and, although nothing but keeping his dick in his pants was foolproof, he couldn’t have been the only man she’d been with recently. Not her. The epitome of betrayal. He eyed her, ignoring how vulnerable she looked. Or how her eyes spoke to him on a deep level, begging him for understanding. Her curtain of red hair contrasted with her pale skin, blanketing her like silken fire.

  He studied her belly, her long, endless legs. Recognized her exhaustion and fear.

  Fuck. He rubbed the back of his neck. Yes, he wanted to fucking know if she was pregnant. “I don’t have time for any more of your bullshit, Kendall,” he growled. “My fucking patience is at an end. Now. Are you pregnant? And before you answer, let me remind you it’s in your best interest to tell me, so I’ll know how to proceed.”

  She licked her lips, her eyes growing misty. “Is that the only reason?” she whispered, the huskiness in her voice sending signals to his dick.

  What a strange fucking question. Unless…“Are you insinuating the baby is mine?”

  He stared at her, daring her to let that lie fall from her lips.

  Defeat entered her features and Johnnie’s nostrils flared. “Have I fucking hurt you?”

  “Huh?”

  He glared at her and she shook her head, dropping the pretense that she hadn’t heard his question.

  “Did Mortician?”

  Another head shake and a mumbled, “no.”

  “Then speak your damn mind, Kendall. You have a fucking brain. Use it.”

  “Spoon hurt me,” she whispered, tears lurking in her eyes. Her fast, furious blinks kept them at bay, but Johnnie saw her hurt and fear. And anger, which was good.

  Spoon
hurt her? If that was true, Johnnie was going to rip Spoon’s fucking dick off followed by the rest of the asshole’s extremities. “You’re his girlfriend. Why should I believe you? You were doing whatever at my club for him.”

  Her entire body drooped and he thought she’d sink to the floor. “I’m his ex-girlfriend. And he did hurt me. The day after you made love to me. I f-failed…” her voice trailed off and she swallowed. “Him,” she finished after another hesitation. “He came to my office and beat me. He choked me with his cock and stuck his gun barrel inside of me and made me believe he’d pull the trigger.” She had begun to tremble like she was keeping herself together by a bare thread. “Then he licked me until I had an orgasm,” she finished in a small voice.

  The buzzing in Johnnie’s head threatened to explode into white-hot fury. But she didn’t need to see that side of him right now. She needed comfort and she needed to feel safe. It didn’t escape Johnnie, though, that the atrocities the soon-to-be departed from this earth Spoon had committed was some type of punishment. Because she’d failed. He worked out the timeline in his head.

  Pure conjecture on his part, but if that bug food she’d dated went to her office the day after she’d first visited the club, then that meant she had been sent to the club to gather information.

  Swiping at her cheeks, Kendall straightened her spine and shrugged. “As to a baby, I wasn’t insinuating anything,” she snapped, “since I never said I was pregnant.”

  He’d give her a pass right now on explaining anything else, so she could gather her composure. But he had a million questions and he intended to get answers to each and every one of them. Now, though, he went with the conversation she’d returned to, spurred by the panicked plea in her eyes. He understood she wouldn’t be able to handle anything else right now. “Are you?” he repeated with surprising patience, considering he was a hare’s breath from grabbing his Glock, getting on his Harley and going to shoot the fuck out of Spoon.

  He adjusted his position on the seat to lessen the pressure in his balls and cock. “If you’re pregnant, you’re putting an innocent baby at risk.”