Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  The moment she left, he reached for Meggie and dragged her against him. He bent and whispered something in Meggie’s ear, tugging one of her pigtails, earning a blush and a small giggle from her. Predictable results with whatever dirty shit he told her. Just as fucking predictable? Her standing on her tiptoes and kissing him. Then, she motioned to Kendall that they leave.

  They whispered amongst themselves and disappeared into the hallway, passing the Grim Reaper mural that seemed ready to step the fuck next to Val and hack into the afterlife whatever Outlaw left of Val’s body.

  Outlaw was fucking right. Val had to be not only a stupid motherfucker, but a masochistic one, to continually piss him off.

  “Who should I fuck you up over first?” Outlaw snarled.

  “How about you do it on behalf of Megs and I’ll do it on behalf of Zoann?” Johnnie offered, cracking his knuckles, always ready to inflict gruesome pain.

  Megs, huh? Motherfucker had gone back to calling Meggie Megs, trying to get back into her good graces, having finally delivered one of his nuts from Kendall’s pussy.

  “Sound like a motherfuckin’ plan to me,” Outlaw agreed but made no move toward him, although he cocked his head to the side.

  The coldness in his green eyes chilled Val to the bone. He got pleasure seeing that look directed to other people. Towards himself? Not so much.

  “When you fucked my sister, assfuck?”

  “The day of the bombing,” Val responded. Since he’d discovered about Zoann’s rape, he’d gone back to being the protective big brother. Val felt a little sorry for whoever had raped Zoann, which was also stuck in Outlaw’s craw. “Why?”

  Balling his fists, Outlaw growled and stepped closer to him. “Fuckin’ why?” He slammed a fist on the side of his head. “Stop bein’ fuckin’ stupid. She trust you over and fuckin’ over to get in her pussy and you fuck up over and over.” He circled him and cuffed the other side of his head. “Think why the fuck she might fuckin’ be shame to show the world she fucked you again, assfuck.”

  Val frowned. “Because of what happened to her? Who the fuck know, though?”

  “Ain’t the fuckin’ point. All I fuckin’ know is her bein’ fuckin’ forced. It either fuckin’ happened while I was on that fuckin’ run for Big Joe or right after the fuck I got back. He kept me so fuckin’ busy I wasn’t able to fuckin’ see her for weeks, and she’d turned into a ragin’ fuckin’ bitch.”

  Val thought about the day Zoann had come to the club. Big Joe had…his halts crashed and burned, only to flare up in harsh brilliance. She’d come to the club, looking for Outlaw and…fuck.

  She’d been so strange that day. Because she’d been hurt. Val had no doubt in his mind she’d come to her brother to tell him what had happened. He also had no doubt that Big Joe had known…Jesus H. Christ. Had Meggie’s old man raped Zoann?

  Fuck.

  He needed to forget this shit. Outlaw would go fucking crazy. Fuck. Val forced his mind back to the conversation and patted the hair at his nape. After his shooting, he’d changed his bald look and allowed his hair to grow back. “What isn’t is the point?” he asked, surprised he formed cohesive sentences. “Nobody know.”

  “She knows it,” Johnnie pointed out with impatience.

  “Who the fuck know what she went through?” Outlaw stalked to the bar and found a bottle of tequila. Opening it, he drank deeply and turned on the hallway camera. No one was there, but he searched for his wife. He sighed. “I get my sister now. She think I fuckin’ let her down, but I ain’t even know about it. Ma ain’t never once mentioned Zoann with no fuckhead. Never.” He drank again. “Fuckin’ either shame her or frighten her or both. But she let you inside her, assfuck. At least two fuckin’ times. Imagine how the fuck she feel, if she fuckin’ ashamed of gettin’ dick. Bein’ pregnant, she ain’t gonna be able to deny she fucked. When she was walkin’ around big with Ryan, she wasn’t fuckin’ livin’ on premises.”

  Val scratched the side of his head.

  “All she ever talks about is a biker being filthy,” Johnnie added.

  “Well, yeah,” Val agreed slowly. “That’s because of what happened to her.” Confused as fuck, he waited for them to continue.

  “For-fuckin-get it, assfuck,” Outlaw snapped. “I’m a generous motherfucker, so I’m gonna put this fuckin’ bug in your stupid fuckin’ ears. Zoann goin’ for a drink with some dickhead after work.”

  His heart dropping, Val choked.

  “Be prepared for this fuckin’ shit, too, dick-for-brain, she told Megan she thinkin’ about movin’. I got the funniest fuckin’ feelin’ her talkin’ to you about the new baby was seein’ whatcha say before she decided.” Outlaw studied him before kicking his shin and punching his jaw, sending him to his ass. “Megan my girl. She ain’t a fuckin’ club member. The sooner you motherfuckers realize that, the sooner you gonna stop puttin’ her in the middle of shit.”

  Val gasped in a breath, pain careening through him. Fuck. Meggie was a part of their family and never declined to offer anyone advice. She might’ve been young, but she’d managed to tame one of the wildest motherfuckers on earth. Well, up to a point, so, yeah, they asked her shit. It put her in a fucked up position, though. When shit went south, motherfuckers needed to lash out and why not let it be to Meggie? They were human and, in the throes of frustration, somehow forgot she had a fucking man who’d cut out the tongue of a now-very-dead funeral director for spilling secrets to her better left unknown.

  Before all the fucking shit from a few weeks ago happened, Outlaw fucked up any and everybody who looked fucking cross-eyed at her. The man adored Johnnie and yet he’d punched the fuck out of him once or twice and almost blew his head the fuck off over her.

  The dynamics thumped through Val’s head in a matter of seconds, but he stayed fucking silent. Outlaw had let him off light, so Val would quit while alive.

  Lifting himself off the floor, Val dropped back into his seat, wanting to be alone. Better yet, he needed to pop some of his fucking pills.

  At times like this, he wished he’d been left to die on the streets of LA.

  Fatigue wore on Zoann as she sat in the multi-colored booth, glass of pineapple juice on the shiny table and total hottie, Sheriff Adam Moncette, seated next to her. His long thigh pressed against hers. She tried to convince herself being so close to him affected her in a positive way, rather than only making her nervous.

  “How are you?” he asked her for the hundredth time, picking up on her discomfort.

  Of course he would. It was his job to read people.

  “Pregnant,” she admitted, gripping her glass to stop her hands from shaking. The thought of the baby made her feel sick. Pregnant ladies did not go on dates with other men. That Adam had convinced her to do so proved being around Matthew had finally driven her insane.

  She wanted him so bad, but she also wanted to slap the shit out of him. If only he’d try honesty with her. But, no, every, single time she dealt with him, she also dealt with his fucking lies and deceit.

  How could she ever trust him with her awful secret?

  She intended to move out of the club. If truth be told, she’d only remained so long because…because of Matthew. She watched him with Ryan and her heart turned over every time.

  Zoann couldn’t share him and he needed what she couldn’t seem to give him. He’d eaten her pussy and, slut that she was, she’d come on his tongue. He always made her come, though. He engaged his entire body in lovemaking—fingers, mouth, hip-swiveling, and deep thrusts.

  She squirmed in her seat, her pussy wet and hot and needy.

  Adam nudged her and she gave him a sheepish smile. “Sorry. I’m just…maybe, this wasn’t a good idea. I told you I still…cared about my baby’s father and…” Her voice trailed off. What happened to the Zoann she’d built up to push everyone away? She wanted her back.

  He leaned into her and applied a feather-light kiss to her lips.

  “We’re friends, babe,” he breathed against
her ear. “I just want a smile on your face. I invited you out with the full knowledge of your condition.”

  He had, and she could relax and enjoy this. He didn’t have to know her frigidity or that Matthew was the only man she’d had after…him. Adam was nice. He was gentle. For two solid months he’d pressed her for a date. She’d accepted, so she owed him her full attention. Even if he wasn’t a rough, badass, sexy biker with a tear-drop tat beneath his left eye.

  “What do you enjoy in your downtime?”

  His mouth twisted before it smoothed out into a smile. “I’m easy,” he said with a wink.

  She laughed, pushing aside her sudden misgivings. “How easy?” she teased.

  He brushed loose strands of hair behind her ear, an innocent touch not meant to panic. But it did panic her. It didn’t matter she was in a public place with a high-ranking member of law enforcement.

  She slid closer to the wall, embarrassed at the discomfort pulling at his features. “I…um…I’m moving soon. Did I tell you?”

  Inscrutability removed his discomfort and he lifted a brow. “From your brother’s place?”

  “Yes,” she answered, hiding a smile.

  Adam wasn’t a fan of bikers, so she’d never mentioned her close relationships to the club. In that, he shared Granddaddy’s views. Adam had more than enough reason to dislike the Death Dwellers and put the lot of them away for the rest of their lives.

  “I think that’s a wise decision.”

  “Really? Why’s that?”

  “Wouldn’t want you caught in the crosshairs of any situation that might arise.”

  Heaving in a breath, Zoann stiffened, her hackles rising. He didn’t know enough about her to know who…Fucking asshole. He was the sheriff. He could know whatever he wanted to if he abused his power and checked into her background.

  If a situation arose, Matthew would be caught in the crosshairs. And Christopher and Johnnie. They might be the biggest assholes on earth and she might not like them and do unforgivable things to Christopher, but she was allowed. He was her idiot brother and he’d hurt her enough to where her actions were justified to a point.

  She either had zero instinct with men or she made a mountain out of a molehill.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked carefully, hating that she wanted to find an excuse to walk away from the date and go pine over Matthew. “What situation?”

  He removed her wet and cold hand from around her glass and took it into his. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

  She snatched her hand away. She had everything to worry about. Mainly, how sure he sounded. “I have to go. If you can let me pass?”

  “Now, Zoann—”

  “Save your bullshit, Adam,” she snapped. “Who’s to say you haven’t been hounding me for a date to get information about the club?”

  She’d been so wrapped up in Ryan, work, morning sickness, and Matthew, she hadn’t even questioned Adam’s insistence.

  He sighed and turned earnest eyes to her. “I’m sorry. I just thought…Today is a tough anniversary for me,” he said bleakly. He rubbed his forehead. “A few years ago, my older brother got into an argument over my sister-in-law at a bar. He was never seen again.”

  “OhmyGod,” she blurted, his confession pulling on her heartstrings, just when she’d been calling him all types of assholes under her breath.

  “Worse thing is, she knew who did it.” Adam’s jaw clenched and a fanatical light entered his eyes. “The cluprit took her to his bed and she refused to identify him. He would’ve been prosecuted by now. I might know where my brother’s remains are. Yet, I still carry the small hope he’s alive. Right here,” he whispered with emotion, holding his hand in the center of his chest. “Where I carry him always.”

  Wishing she could give him a hug but not comfortable doing so, Zoann took his hand and squeezed. “It seems as if we are given more than we can handle. Despite everything—the hurt, the pain, the grief—we survive and we’re stronger for the experience. This…this is the day he disappeared?”

  “Yes,” he choked out.

  “Whatever made your sister-in-law do that, I can’t tell you. Only she can. But she has to live with her decision for the rest of her life.”

  Adam straightened and brushed off his lapels, dislodging Zoann’s hand. “She and my niece had a tragic accident a few weeks later,” he said in a flat tone, the vulnerable man from moments before replaced by a hardened, grieving sibling.

  She’d grieved for Christopher when he’d been shot and knew she’d feel the same as Adam did about his brother’s disappearance. But he sounded so cold. His niece hadn’t been responsible for her mother’s stupidity.

  Exhaustion snatched the fight right out of Zoann. Drained, she just wanted to get home and hold her son close to her. “Adam, please let me pass. I really am tired. I need to get to the club and get some sleep.”

  He smiled, his GQ looks enhanced by the starched white shirt and the dark hair brushing his collar. He pressed his lips to her own before sliding out and getting to his feet. After assisting her, he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed, his yellowish-green gaze drinking her in.

  He glanced away. “Your brother know we’re out on a date?” he asked in a surprising change of topic.

  “No. I-I never told him,” she responded, his odd tone sending alarm bells rising inside of her. Something was off…no, Zoann. Ridiculous. She needed to stop finding reasons to push him away. “I never told anyone about our date.”

  A frisson of hurt bloomed on his face. “You’re ashamed of me?”

  “Of course not. It wasn’t their business.” The tough decision to accept his date had been a big leap of faith on her part. It helped knowing he was the last person on earth who’d hurt her, just by the nature of his career.

  He kissed her hand again, her explanation appeasing him. “You better get going.”

  She huffed out a nervous laugh. “I need my hand back to leave.”

  “All pregnant women are beautiful, Zoann, but you’re absolutely stunning.”

  “Th-thank you,” she murmured, not used to such pretty compliments. Lowering her gaze, she tugged her hand but he held tight.

  “Let me cook dinner for you tomorrow evening.”

  “Um—”

  “Something insanely healthy. I’ll even prepare freshly made pineapple juice.”

  He knew she liked pineapple juice. How stupid but the notion made her warm to him a little. “I’ll have to see if Meggie or Kendall is available to babysit.”

  “Bring Ryan with you,” he told her, releasing her hand after he’d kissed it again.

  She shook her head. “I can’t.” Not if she wanted to actually go on the date.

  If she walked out of the club in the evening with Matthew’s son, he’d follow her. Not once since they’d destroyed her house had she gone anywhere other than work if she wasn’t hanging with Meggie.

  “Fair enough, babe.” He stepped out of her way. “I’ll be patiently waiting to hear your fair voice again.”

  “You’re so silly,” she blurted with a laugh.

  No matter how corny his words, a smidgeon of satisfaction hit her at having such nonsense directed at her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  In a fucked-up mood, Val stalked into the main room the next morning and paused. Holding Little Man, Meggie stood next to Outlaw, fingers gliding through his hair, whispering to him, while Mortician held Ryan. Stretch rested his chin in the palm of his hand and Johnnie reclined back, arms folded. Val swore John Boy salivated over Meggie’s tits, but, he had fucking Kendall, so what the fuck did Val know?

  Oh, yeah. That. Kendall was a fucking bitch and Meggie wasn’t.

  Lumbering to the table and wondering at Zoann’s fucking whereabouts, he snatched up a chair, turned it backwards and straddled it.

  “Jesus, Christopher,” Johnnie growled. “Would you fucking stop?”

  This should be good. Outlaw was fucking with Meggie again, asking her for her pu
ssy or talking about fucking. One of these days, she’d get used to being the object of his lewdness and stop her fucking adorable blushing. Val would love to see the day Meggie commented on Outlaw’s dick.

  “Meggie girl…” Mortician teased, shaking his head.

  “Since we’re being so open about things,” Stretch began, eyeing Meggie as she reclaimed her hair from Little Man’s mouth, “why does Outlaw have Love In An Elevator as his ringtone for you?”

  “Cuz I want the motherfucker as her ringtone, so shut the fuck up.”

  “What are we talking about here?”

  Mortician’s eyes twinkled and he smirked between Johnnie and Val. “Prez earning his red wings.”

  Meggie’s cheeks flamed with color. “I hate all of you.”

  “Least I fucking earned the motherfuckers with you.” Outlaw shrugged and pointed to Mortician and Johnnie. “If you mad, be mad with them. Those two assfucks started the fuckin’ conversation.”

  “Because all of you are disgusting,” she retorted.

  “Ain’t, baby.”

  “Megs, you just happened to walk up at the wrong time,” Johnnie offered, enjoying the fuck out of Meggie’s discomfort. If, like Val, for no other reason than the innocent look it gave her. “Mort and I were discussing, between us, who had the red wing honor first.”

  “I want to know,” Val put in.

  “I don’t,” Meggie yelled.

  “DaDaDaDaDa,” Little Man said as he twisted in Meggie’s arms and reached for Outlaw, talking to him, although no one spoke Baby, so no one knew what the fuck he was saying. He sounded amused as hell, though, and nodded his head, his black curls shaking.

  Sunlight streamed through the place as the door opened and Meggie squealed. Outlaw grabbed his son, so Meggie, her tits, and her hair could bounce. “Bailey!”

  Glancing in Bailey’s direction just as Meggie reached her, Val scratched his chin. “Fuck those tiny shorts of hers.” He thought he’d mumbled the words until Outlaw knocked him on the side of his head, since Meggie rocked the tiny shorts. Bailey wore a tiny dress, her baby bump noticeable, her hair in a single, long braid.