The clip snapped into place and Johnnie raised up again, the thought of anything happening to his woman or his baby fucking with his head. The first shot hit assfuck’s shoulder and gave away his location. He needed to fucking start carrying his Glock.
Bullets sprayed the back of the car, getting closer as the assfuck walked and fired. Johnnie crabbed his way to the front fender, stood and fired, hitting assfuck’s head just as he’d turned to shoot up the front of Kendall’s car. Bullets rained into the air as fucker fell, then the night went silent.
Not stopping to think or explore, Johnnie hurried to the passenger side with the shattered window and pulled the door open. Kendall lay right where he’d pushed her, glass covering her hair and back.
In the distance, sirens wailed. Of course, the fucking war zone would attract attention and a concerned citizen would want the cops. He hoped like fuck Kendall hadn’t been shot, but he’d have to discover that later, too. He opened the glove compartment and removed the registration. License plates would be a motherfucking problem and would be traced back to Kendall but he’d fucking deal with it. Spying her purse on the backseat, he got it and her cellphone, placed the strap on his shoulder, then lifted her into his arms.
She was warm, vital, alive—and terrified.
In moments, he reached his Navigator with Kendall strapped in the passenger side. She appeared unwounded physically, except for a few cuts from the glass and the hits to her face.
Luck was his to be had tonight. He drove alongside another car and reached the stoplight at Senate Road, just as the cops turned on the opposite side, heading towards the last street along this stretch, where four dead bodies awaited them.
Chapter 13
Shell-shocked, Kendall stumbled behind Johnnie and into the club. If he hadn’t had such a tight grip on her hand, she would’ve fallen, but he stood next to her, her strength in her time of need. During part of the ride home, he hadn’t asked her anything nor had he blamed her. Every now and then, he offered a soothing word or inquired about her injuries.
When they’d gotten a good distance from Fortification, Johnnie had pulled the Navigator to the side to check her injuries and wipe some of the blood away from him. He’d picked glass out of her hair and skimmed his fingers over her back in a caress so gentle Kendall wanted to cry. Ghastly visions of her gruesome death had caused her to shake.
After placing the glass in the cup holder, he’d leaned over the console and wrapped his arms around her and she’d held him fiercely, clinging to him, never wanting to let him go. For long moments, they’d remained in each other’s embrace and Kendall realized how worried Johnnie had been about her safety when he’d nosed her hair.
“God, I could’ve fucking lost you, Kendall,” he whispered.
In slow degrees, his muscles had relaxed beneath her caresses. He’d tipped her chin up and tasted her mouth in a sweet, gentle kiss that made her cry all over again. A desperate need had wafted from him and Kendall knew he needed to make love to her. She, herself, felt a pang of passion. No, more than a pang, more like a rising tide threatening to consume her, but she’d pulled away and he’d closed his eyes, his lashes fanning his cheeks, his breathing hot and heavy.
“I’m sorry, gorgeous. I know you can’t have me right now.”
He’d pulled away from her then started out toward the clubhouse.
Now, Outlaw paused in setting a glass of clear liquid—water or 7Up—on the table next to Megan’s head, where it rested on her forearms. It was a light crowd tonight. Digger leaned against the bar, whispering to a girl with bone-straight hair.
After pulling Megan to her feet and holding the glass to her lips, Outlaw kissed her forehead, then nodded toward the hallway where the fascinating Grim Reaper mural glared at everyone. Once Megan had left, Outlaw signaled to Digger and sauntered toward them, his tanned skin and bulging muscles exposed because he wore no shirt beneath his cut. He glanced at her. “What the fuck happened, John Boy?”
“The Torps,” Johnnie rasped, anger still dripping over his words. “Motherfucking Spoon.”
“She o…you okay, Kendall?”
Kendall wondered why Outlaw had gone from asking Johnnie about her well-being to asking her directly. She nodded.
He smiled. “I’m glad. Wouldn’t want John Boy goin’ off the deep fuckin’ end if something happened to you.”
Heat rushed to Kendall’s cheeks at Outlaw’s teasing tone and Johnnie’s wink. Digger joined them and handed Outlaw a bottle of tequila, his favorite drink. He held it up to her. “You might want a little? It’ll calm you, so you can calm him.” He used the bottle to point to Johnnie.
“I’m the calmest motherfucker around,” Johnnie said with a tight smile, snatching Outlaw’s bottle and opening it. He took a deep swig. “I fucking needed that.” He placed an arm around Kendall’s shoulders. “As for her, asshole, she can’t have alcohol. In case you’ve forgotten she’s fucking carrying my Baby Biker.”
Outlaw swept his gaze over her and shrugged. “Baby Biker, huh?”
“That’s so fucking poetic,” Digger added, chortling with laughter. “We need you around, Red. We don’t have cutesy shit like that in our lives.”
Johnnie and Outlaw shared a look, then sniggered. “You right, motherfucker,” Outlaw agreed, his laughter transforming his features from beautiful to breathtaking.
Comparing them through the sweep of her lashes, Kendall noted Johnnie’s similarities to Outlaw. They both had full lips and gorgeous eyes with thick lashes ringing them. Their coloring differed, but their aquiline noses and god-like builds matched, even though Outlaw stood a tad taller.
Outlaw, Johnnie, and Digger laughed, but Kendall hadn’t heard their conversation, zoning out to make her parallels.
“I’m glad you and Baby Biker okay,” Outlaw said with a smirk.
“C’mon, John Boy, let me get plates for you two. In between chucking her guts, Meggie managed to cook.”
“Let me help Kendall to our—“
“No,” she interrupted, flattening her palm against his chest. She wanted to talk to Outlaw for a moment without Megan—his extra appendage—growing from his side. “You must be hungry. I’ll wait here.”
Johnnie glanced at Outlaw and the man sighed. “Hurry the fuck up,” he ordered, grabbing Kendall’s elbow and leading her to a nearby table.
The moment Johnnie disappeared, Outlaw swigged from his bottle and stared at her.
Kendall knew she looked a wreck between the bruises and the tears and the emotions. She squirmed in her seat.
“The baby okay with the bullshit you went through tonight, babe?”
“Yes,” she responded, lowering her lashes. The way he’d yelled at her the other night was a distant memory. “S-so you’ve forgiven me?”
He stretched his long legs in front of him and folded his arms. “For?”
“The bachelor party.”
“Lemme get this fuckin’ straight.” He lost the nonchalant pose and leaned forward. “You just got fucked up by the Torps and you askin’ me about your pussy grindin’ on my dick?”
She frowned at his words, flushing in embarrassment. He was being so nice to her, so she’d thought to take advantage of his good mood and clear the air between them. This man meant a lot to Johnnie and she didn’t want any bad blood between she and him. “I wasn’t asking about that, per se.”
“Lemme tell you this, per se,” he growled. “Drop this fuckin’ bullshit, Kendall. I ain’t wanted your fuckin’ ass then and I especially ain’t interested in you now—“
She gasped. “I wasn’t coming on to you.”
“Don’t give a good fuck neither way.” He glared at her and snatched his bottle.
“I’m in love Johnnie and I just want us to get along. You were being so nice,” she admitted, her lower lip trembling.
“You fuckin’ hurt, Kendall. What the fuck you expected me to fuckin’ do?”
“I-I don’t know,” she admitted, bewildered. “I-I just—“
“Get along with Megan and you get along with me,” he said flatly. “I don’t know how many different motherfuckers gotta tell you that fuckin’ fact before you get it the fuck through your motherfuckin’ head.”
Johnnie walked out of the kitchen and relief settled into Kendall. He balanced two covered plates in one hand and held a bottle of alcohol in the other. He glanced in her direction and his smile faded. Within moments, he reached her side to glower at Outlaw.
“What the fuck did you say to her, motherfucker?”
Remorseless, Outlaw got to his feet. “Ask your bitch. Now fuck the fuck off cuz I gotta see about my girl.”
“Christopher—“
As if he had bad hearing, Outlaw gave no indication he heard. He just sauntered away without looking back.
“It takes a bit to get used to Christopher,” Johnnie said with a sheepish smile.
“It’s okay. I just apologized to him and he-he thought I was hitting on him.”
“Let’s get to our room.” Not responding to her explanation, he led the way and waited until Kendall had unlocked the door before closing it behind them to speak again. “Drop that goddamn bachelor party, Kendall.”
He sat the plates down, slipped out of his shoes, his eyes blazing. “If you stop bringing it the fuck up, everyone will eventually forget about it. My fucking preference, by the way. You’re mine and I hate the thought that these motherfuckers know all the beauty beneath your clothes.”
She’d once had a professor who’d divided the class into defense attorneys and prosecutors, giving each side one week to build a case against the other side. She’d been on the prosecution side and they’d lost. Ridiculous how many holes and inconsistencies their case had now that she thought on it. Her group had gotten the chance at a retrial, although they’d been split into the two opposing sides. She’d been on the winning team. She’d been able to go back and study the notes, determine what they’d done wrong and rewrite their case. That’s what she wanted to do here. Find a gigantic eraser and wipe the slate clean. Start over. Rewrite all her shameful behavior. Her stupidity. “They’ve never felt me,” she whispered finally, wanting to make amends and erase all the ugliness from her life
Johnnie had taken off his shirt and sat on the bed, beginning to eat the meal Megan had cooked. She wished Johnnie ate something she’d prepared.
“I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d arrived too late.”
Kendall didn’t know if Johnnie spoke to her or not. Eating shrimp stew, he stared at his stereo system, a bleak look in his eyes.
“You didn’t. You saved me.”
He glanced at her, his gaze shuttering and nodded, but she saw him withdrawing from her before her very eyes.
Exhausted, Kendall turned toward the bathroom without another word, wishing, most of all, she could rewrite this evening.
“Johnnie?”
Ignoring Kendall, Johnnie continued reviewing the accounts from their legitimate businesses and recording revenue and expenses. As usual, he focused his sole attention on the books. Their biggest source of legal income—the medical lab—was thriving. Two separate factors helped: doctors drew shit out and sent patients for one test at a time, while they observed because patients trusted their doctor’s advice and followed along. Whatever. Their laboratory profited from it. Their biggest source of illegal revenue came from their gun-running and their steadiest from the hydrogrows. Line by line, Johnnie maneuvered the numbers, funneled money from their criminal enterprises to their lawful ones and diverted to their Panamanian accounts. They’d begun to pull back from their Swiss accounts thanks to the Feds tightening regulations to increase income to the IRS.
Big Joe had cultivated European relationships and had visited every year to keep shit going. A fucking pain in the ass pacifying motherfuckers to keep their shit protected. The passage of FATCA in 2010 fucked things a little more. All laws were made to find loopholes and get around, but it sure made shit fucking harder.
Johnnie usually took care of the books for the medical lab only. K-P oversaw the rest. Or he had—
“JOHNNIE!”
He clenched his jaw, sliding his pencil to the next line, hoping she got the message to leave him alone.
“Johnn—“
Not happening. “What the fuck do you want?”
Her near-death still fucked with his head and mocked every insistence he needed time to develop deeper feelings for her. He scowled at her, ignoring how gorgeous she looked sitting on the edge of his bed, her hair falling around her shoulders and down her back. She needed more clothes. Though seeing her in his t-shirt and pajama bottoms filled him with a sense of possession and pride, she was a woman and women liked pretty, frilly things. Not to mention, the few outfits she had were wearing out because of overuse.
Realizing she hadn’t answered, annoyance surged through him. “What the fuck’s your problem?”
Folding her arms, she raised her chin, the tears in her eyes beating Johnnie’s conscious.
“You! You’re my problem.”
As if she had to tell him. But he wanted to know if his idea of the problem and hers matched. “How’s that?”
Her chin wobbled and her nose reddened. “Since the incident with Spoon’s goons you’ve ignored me.”
Yep, right on target with his. But, fuck, how could he explain to Kendall how he felt? Four days ago, he’d been like a little excited boy over his new Navigator. In the span of five minutes, one phone call turned his joy upside down. He could’ve lost Kendall. Every time he looked at the faded bruises on her cheeks and the healing cuts caused by the shattering glass, his stomach turned.
Every time he remembered he’d had to leave before he could pull Spoon’s intestines out through his nostrils, rage filled him. And, every time, he listened to her sobs—in the middle of the night when she thought he slept—helplessness overtook him.
He wanted to apologize for being so goddamn careless with her safety. Then, he’d have to remember she could’ve been raped and murdered. If she hadn’t been smart enough to call him and leave her phone line open—
Christopher had long ago had a tracking device installed in Megan’s phone and on her car. Johnnie and the boys had ragged on him for being fucking overprotective and even more fucking obsessed. Now, though, Johnnie understood and he believed Christopher’s need to know Megan’s every move was a good plan to follow.
“Look, gorgeous, in a couple hours, you’ll have me for the rest of the evening. I promise.” She was with him, safe, so he needed to minimize his assholery. “I’m a little preoccupied right now.” He nodded to the laptop Christopher kept under lock and key. The fake one sat on top of the file cabinet in his office. “I’m not ignoring you on purpose.”
Kendall bowed her head, her sadness raw and real. Her flame-colored hair draped one shoulder, streaming down to her tits. She wore no make-up and, though it allowed a clearer view of her pain, it also made her look vulnerable. “What else is new? And you are ignoring me on purpose.”
Johnnie sighed with regret and guilt and pushed away from his desk. “All right, Kendall. You’re right,” he admitted. He glanced at his watch. “I’m taking a fifteen minute break. Then I have to get the books finished and talk to Christopher. Deal?”
Twisting strands of hair around her finger, Kendall weighed his offer, then nodded. “Deal.”
He sat beside her on the bed and put his arm across her shoulders, pulling her against him and kissing the top of her head. Her breasts pressed into him and her scent filled his nostrils. He wanted her so bad, but fuck if he knew how to approach her. She seemed perfectly satisfied with the current state of their relationship—sexless.
Releasing her before he threw her back and ravished her, Johnnie leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. “So what do you have to say?”
“I haven’t been to an OB yet,” she began quietly. “I don’t have much of anything to wear and I’m already looking like a stuffed pig in the couple outfi
ts I do have.”
Johnnie calculated in his head how many weeks she should be and frowned. Although he understood why she hadn’t seen a doctor yet, he wanted their baby healthy. Certainly, Kendall did as well, but she had so much to handle—so much she feared—that the need for a first prenatal visit eluded her. He squeezed the bridge of his nose, hating how much he had to limit his responses as much as he had to ignore his physical needs because of Kendall’s fragile state. Fragility exacerbated by the events of four days ago.
He glanced at her and smiled. Her brown eyes held no sparkle, only uncertainty. “You don’t look like a stuffed pig.” He meant those words. Her skewered perception of her body served as further proof that she still needed a lot of patience and understanding. As a matter of fact…”You barely eat, sweetheart, which isn’t good since you’re eating for two.”
She dropped her gaze, her nostrils flaring. “I’m trying to keep my weight gain to fifteen or twenty pounds. It’ll be easier to lose it that way. I’ve already gained four pounds,” she whispered, her brow creasing.
“How many pounds do you weigh?”
Biting down on her lower lip, she wrung her hands together. “You aren’t supposed to ask a woman her age or her weight.”
He chuckled at her. “And you’re not supposed to discuss religion or politics in mixed company. All of it is bullshit. You are who you are and if others can’t handle it, then fuck them.”
She licked her lips and Johnnie groaned, his dick hardening. What he wouldn’t do to have her pretty mouth sucking him off. “I’m ashamed to admit how much I weigh.”
Discreetly adjusting his cock, Johnnie shrugged. “May I take a guess then?”
Wide, fearful eyes met his but she gave him a reluctant nod and he grinned, unable to deny the pleasure he felt at the amount of trust she placed in him to allow him to guestimate her weight.
Grabbing her hand, he kissed each finger and gave her a tender smile. “Stand up,” he ordered, though he remained seated.
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 101
