Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  Mortician pulled in a breath, annoyance creasing his brow. “Fuck, man. You a girl like she is. An older chick. You should try to understand her point of view.”

  “She should try to understand mine.”

  “Should she, Red?” Weariness laced his words. “You came at her like the enemy, so, to her, you are the enemy. So let’s get this big fucking elephant the fuck out of the way. The way John Boy felt about her.”

  Kendall snorted. “Felt?” She begged to differ.

  “Yes,” Mortician responded with certainty and without hesitation. “Felt. Let me play devil’s advocate and say he still feel something for Meggie. Is that Meggie fucking fault John Boy being such a stubborn dickhead?”

  “In a way it is. He asked her for a walk a few days ago, and she went with him. If she didn’t want to encourage him, she would’ve turned him down.”

  “Messy shit like that make me understand why you want to keep your ass locked in this bedroom. If Outlaw heard that—and didn’t already know—he would’ve been madder than a motherfucker at Meggie and at John Boy.”

  As if she cared. Maybe, if they were angry with Johnnie, she’d have more of him to herself.

  “She probably only told him because she walked out with him in full view of everybody.”

  “No, Kendall,” Mortician growled. “Meggie told Outlaw because she tell him everything. Outlaw need that to be able to trust, but she need to trust him, too, so don’t come fucking with them. Things just getting good for us again.”

  Tears rushed to Kendall’s eyes and the same feeling of abandonment she’d had since her father’s death bombarded her again. “I just want Johnnie. I’m having his baby. I just want…acceptance.”

  Mortician’s features softened and he nodded. “I feel you, girl. Tell that to John Boy. He’s gonna hear you.”

  She swiped at her cheeks and glanced at her toes.

  “Peep this, Red. I know it’s fucked with whatever going on in John Boy head where Meggie concerned. But you want a motherfucker who so fucking fickle he fall in love the minute somebody else catch his attention?”

  “Of course not, but—“

  “But it’s a fine line,” he finished. “True, that.” He huffed in a breath. “Where the fuck your girl radar at, huh? Bitches walk in and out of our fucking lives all the time and we fucking forget them by the time they close their fucking legs. But, John Boy, remembered you. He fucking kidnapped you when he could’ve kept you here. He might be one, confused motherfucker, but him and Outlaw not related for fucking nothing. Real, true love? They reject like motherfuckers. Outlaw did some shit to Meggie, including leaving her for three fucking weeks. He didn’t believe he was fucking worthy. John Boy? Clinging to a feeling not fucking deep in the first fucking place because he afraid of real emotion.”

  She wouldn’t argue with Mortician. Not when he was going on a road trip. She still remember expecting her daddy’s return when he’d walked out the door. He hadn’t come back, though. He’d been killed…

  On impulse, Kendall threw her arms around Mortician. “Be safe and hurry back,” she whispered.

  Kissing her cheek, he returned her hug. “Don’t intended to go nowhere no time soon, Red.” He backed away and released an unhappy bark of laughter. “Guess K-P thought the same fucking thing, huh?”

  After three in the morning, Johnnie walked into his room, wondering if Kendall had fallen asleep, half hoping she had. Lipstick stuck to his cheeks, neck, and lips, and the cloying scents of different perfumes clung to his clothes and his hands. Mostly, from pushing women away. Not that Kendall would believe that. What woman would?

  Kendall’s mistrust went deeper than most women’s, though.

  Johnnie reminded himself she’d stuck by him during his recovery. She swore she loved him. Part of the reason he proceeded with such caution. He didn’t want to blurt any statements, then realize, later, he’d spoken prematurely.

  The lamp light flickered on and he groaned at his shitty luck. She eyed his body, a hint of red creeping up her neck when she noted…what? He didn’t fucking know. Every girl who’d tried to fucking touch him tonight paled in comparison to Kendall.

  “Hey.”

  Instead of answering, she bent her head and stared at her hands. She’d gotten a semblance of her old self back in the week she’d been with him. On the other hand, she hadn’t regained all of her feistiness, and Johnnie raged for her. When he got his fucking hands on Spoon…

  “I’m tired, Johnnie,” she said in a quiet, miserable voice.

  So was he. Bone-tired and brain-weary. They’d mourned K-P, given him a proper send-off, placed his photo with the other Free Bird members. Now, life had to go back to normal because they had no room for any in-depth emotions.

  The beauty on his bed deserved to have the world at her feet. She had issues, yes, but she needed to feel like the sun rose and set in her. She deserved that.

  He wanted to give her no less.

  His wound was itching and the bandage prevented him from scratching the way he’d liked. For instance, scraping something across his skin to take the annoying sting away.

  Stripping off his clothes and removing his bandage, he headed for the shower, not languishing because he wanted to climb into bed and hold Kendall in his arms, the way they’d slept for the past three days.

  After drying himself, he walked into his bedroom again and headed for his desk where he kept his clean supply of bandages and medical tape.

  Usually Kendall helped to redress his bandages, but, he supposed he couldn’t expect it from her tonight. Once he’d completed the task of seeing to his healing wound, he turned off the light and climbed into bed.

  “Is this how it’s going to be, Johnnie?” she asked in a small, hoarse voice.

  “I don’t know, Kendall,” he admitted on a sigh, “since I don’t know how this is.”

  She shifted in the bed and, even in the darkness, her gaze burned into him. “You out there, fucking other girls—“

  “I didn’t fuck other girls,” he interrupted. “Other girls wouldn’t keep their fucking hands or lips to themselves. I spent most of the goddamn night pushing them the fuck away.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “That’s not my fucking fault. I have no fucking reason to lie to you.”

  “Why’d you stay out there so long?”

  Johnnie frowned, not wanting to argue with her at three o’clock in the morning. Not after the long day he’d had.

  “Why’d you come to the room so early?” he countered in a level voice, his brain recoiling at her sulkiness.

  “No one wanted me—“

  “Stop it, Kendall. I refuse to listen to your self-pity.”

  She scrambled in bed and, a moment later, had the nightstand lamp on on her side. “You’re callous and unfeeling. I’ve opened up to you. But it’s always Mortician who’s giving me pep talks. Not you.”

  Johnnie gritted his teeth against the surging jealousy towards Mortician finding it necessary to seek Kendall out. Like it or not, though, it irked the shit out of him, the least of which had to do with Mort seeing Kendall undressed.

  Motherfucker was running two for two, viewing both Megs and Kendall without clothes on. Well, Kendall had had panties and a bra on, some consolation.

  “Mortician wanted to tell you he was leaving,” Johnnie remarked, the truth.

  He hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, but, apparently Mort did more with Kendall than just tell her goodbye. As soon as he returned, he’d tell Mort to keep his fucking mouth shut and to stay the fuck out of Kendall’s face. She had Johnnie’s Baby Biker inside of her. He’d do well to remember that fact.

  He tugged Kendall into his arms, caressing her back to remove the tension from her body.

  He nipped her ear, inhaling her scent, blood filling his cock. He hadn’t touched her in five days. Two of those days he’d been in the hospital, the next he’d been recovering from being in the hospital, and the last two he’d bee
n helping to arrange K-P’s funeral and making nice with Father Wilkins, since Christopher couldn’t stand the self-righteous little twerp.

  Johnnie skimmed his lips over Kendall’s neck, her soft sigh firing his blood. He fucking adored that sound, adored this Kendall. The woman who opened herself to him and fought her demons. “Do you want some dick, gorgeous?”

  She giggled, her face flushing. “Do you want to give me some?” she asked with a smirk, pushing aside whatever stood between them.

  Already naked, he wasted no time baring Kendall. Rocking back onto his heels, he swept his gaze over her body, his mouth watering at the shadow of hair fuzzing her pussy.

  He stretched out, shouldering her long legs apart and burying his face against her cunt. She moaned, a shudder already racking her body. He opened her slick lips, thumbed her clit, then allowed his tongue to join in the fun with a slow, leisurely lick.

  She yanked at his hair. “Johnnie.”

  Laddering his tongue up her slit and then back down again in a fast motion, lapping at her juices and reveling in the taste and smell of her. She whimpered and jerked against his lips. He suckled her clit, her gasp his reward. Later, he’d tongue her for hours. Right now, he wanted inside of her. Trailing kisses up her flushed skin, he guided his cock to her hot entrance and buried himself inside of her.

  The heat of her body engulfed him and he grunted in pleasure, moving inside her with slow, deep strokes, growling when she canted her hips to meet his thrusts.

  She tongued the rim of his ear and he trembled at her branding touch, her pussy walls throbbing around him and curling his toes. She gasped and moaned, writhing beneath him and arching up, her orgasm drawing his cum from him. He filled her up, his come intensified by her little pulses around him.

  Chapter 4

  By the time Kendall awoke the next morning, Johnnie had already departed, leaving no note as to his whereabouts or what time he intended to return. When she walked into the main room, it surprised her to find Megan cleaning the tables. Bulging garbage bags sat in a line near the door and Kendall wondered if Megan intended to drag them out.

  Didn’t all golden girls who doubled as a wife, played at motherhood, and moonlighted as a killer, put on their capes and lift heavy crap?

  Megan glanced over her shoulder, her gaze edged with irritation and falling on Kendall. She plopped the dishrag into the pan of water and wiped her hands on her apron. She lifted the container. Before moving a step, an older man with a head of silver hair and a neat mustache materialized from the area with the pool tables, and barreled toward her.

  “Shouldn’t lift that, Meggie,” he rebuked. “Not in your condition.”

  Megan snorted and rolled her eyes. “I’m pregnant, Arrow, not helpless.”

  Arrow glanced at Kendall and lifted a brow. “Kendall, right?”

  “That’s almost exactly the way K-P greeted me the first time we met,” Megan said softly.

  “Babe, no crying. Kaleb adored you, so he wouldn’t want you sad over him with you having another baby.”

  Megan cocked her head to the side. “You’re his brother. Aren’t you sad?”

  “Fuck, yeah. But who said you have to do what the fuck I’m doing?”

  Instead of taking offense—or even being afraid—Megan shrugged, her sorrow hard to miss. She removed her apron and sighed. “Bunny’s looking after CJ, so if you need anything, ask her.” She shifted from foot to foot and shoved hair behind her ear. “My mom might…” Her voice trailed off and she frowned. “She’s just grieving for K-P.”

  Arrow grasped Megan’s shoulder. “Babe, stop worrying. Outlaw’s my Prez, incentive enough not to fuck up. I have another one. Remember? K-P looking after you from wherever he at. I’m looking after you down here.”

  Her nose reddening, Megan swallowed but nodded.

  Arrow headed toward the bar with a sigh, then paused. “Have you seen Bailey anywhere?”

  “No,” Megan responded weakly, her skin turning a sickly shade of green. She clapped her hands over her mouth and ran toward the bathroom.

  Kendall huffed in frustration. While she understood Megan’s condition, she needed to get to the funeral home and make it through this day. Resentment towards Johnnie surfaced, deepening her aggravation with Megan. He should never have left her to deal with this on her own.

  Puffing a cigarette Kendall hadn’t paid attention to Arrow lighting, he nodded to her. “You saw my niece?”

  “Not since yesterday at the grave.”

  “Fuck,” Arrow growled, worry creasing his brow. He snapped his cellphone from his belt clip and dialed a number. “Call me,” he ordered a few seconds later, his lips thinning. “I’m giving you an hour then I’m riding out and hunting fucking Torps.”

  “She doesn’t live on premises,” Kendall offered the moment Arrow hung up, wanting to ease his mind. He’d just lost his brother so he didn’t need to stress over his niece.

  He glared at her. “You think I don’t fucking know that?”

  Licking her lips, Kendall reminded herself of all of Johnnie’s reassurances. She could speak her mind and no one would hurt her. She was safe, but, sometimes, her head couldn’t reason that out and catapulted her back to Spoon’s harshness and her captivity.

  The bathroom door opened and Megan reappeared, a little less peaked. The sound of chimes filled the air and she snatched her cell phone from her pocket. A frown creased her brow and her eyes widened before she glanced at Arrow and read the message again. Groaning, she shoved the phone back into her pocket.

  “What is it?” Kendall asked out of curiosity.

  “Nothing.” Uneasy, Megan peeped at Arrow again and gave Kendall a minute shake of her head before plastering a too bright smile on her face. “Um, Arrow…” She twirled her hair and lowered her lashes. “Er, Bailey is…she went to see her mom and said not to worry.”

  Lying bitch. Kendall saw the lie in her features and heard it in the girl’s voice. Arrow pinned her with a weary stare and nodded, boiling Kendall’s blood on the grieving man’s behalf. “Arrow just left a message for her,” she pointed out. “Why would she text you instead of responding to him?”

  Megan shrugged, her stance and darting eyes not ringing true. “I don’t know but she did. Now, are you ready?”

  Ready to finalize funeral plans for her little sister? No. Never. She had no choice, though, so she stiffened her shoulders and nodded.

  Five minutes later, Kendall sat in the passenger seat of Megan’s brand new Mini Cooper.

  Megan paused at the gate and addressed Stretch, unperturbed by the three bikers serving as her babysitters. “We’re going to the funeral home.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He smiled and opened the gate, stopping her to impart one, final order. “Make sure you stay within sight of Shady, Cowboy and Slipper at all times.”

  “I will. Bye, Stretch.” Meggie waved at him and sped onto the street, oblivious at the wrongness of having to give her itinerary before being released from the premises with big, brutal looking men following her, too.

  “Thank you for bringing me,” Kendall offered, envying the perfect lines of Megan’s face.

  She halted at a stop sign and looked both ways before zooming forward, a Harley on each side of them now and one tailing them. “No problem.”

  “If you ever need me to watch over Little Man, I’d love to.”

  “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  The chimes sounded again. Another text message for Megan, who chewed her lower lip.

  “Is it Bailey again?”

  Megan braked the car at a stop light. “What? Bailey?”

  “Yes. Remember? Arrow’s niece,” Kendall reminded her in a brisk tone and folded her arms.

  As the light turned green, Megan nodded. The bikes rumbled behind them. “Of course. Um…I-I can’t discuss this with you. I’m sorry.”

  Kendall huffed in frustration and glared out the window at her soft dismissal, gritting her teeth at the sight of one of Megan’s
guards. Johnnie should’ve brought her instead of the high-and-mighty Megan Caldwell. The night Johnnie had gotten shot and Megan’s and Outlaw’s house had gotten blown to hell, Kendall had made an overture of friendship and Megan accepted. Either Kendall suffered with delusions or the moment had come about because of the situation.

  She refused to approach Megan one more time. If they’d ever build a friendship, Megan would have to make the next move.

  Twenty-five minutes later, Kendall followed the funeral director into his office with Megan trailing behind her.

  “Let me extend my condolences to you, Ms. Miller,” the wiry man began. The sideburns travelling down the side of his face made him a throwback to another era. “I understand what a difficult time this must be for you.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Gillson,” Kendall responded politely. His jaded tone rang with falseness and she suspected the phrases fell from his mouth by rote. He probably could recite them in his sleep.

  Kendall bit the inside of her cheek to prevent her laughter from bursting free at Megan’s eye-rolling, refusing to give the girl satisfaction.

  He snapped his red suspenders. “I understand you’d like to make arrangements. May I just inform you Mr. Donovan has already made most of them? The only thing left to do is the viewing of the body.”

  “I can view her for you if you’d like,” Megan offered, the sympathy in her eyes grating on Kendall’s nerves. She wasn’t interested in ordinary conversation, but the moment a crisis arose, she stepped up.

  “No, thank you.” Disbelief sharpened the words. Who cared? Not Kendall. Not when she felt certain Megan’s offer anything more than a tactic to sustain her status as perfect in Johnnie’s eyes. “I can do it.”

  “Suit yourself.” Megan retorted.

  “Mrs. Caldwell, we can discuss the opening of your mother-in-law’s grave to inter the body while Ms. Miller views Caroline.”

  “I-I thought she was being buried in my father’s grave,” Megan responded with a frown, shocking Kendall.

  Not knowing where her mother was buried, Kendall hadn’t thought of a gravesite and she certainly hadn’t expected Megan to play any role in obtaining one for her. She wanted Caroline laid to rest. If not, she would’ve told Megan she didn’t need to provide either because Kendall would find a cemetery herself.