“What the fuck…?” Digger’s voice trailed off and his eyes rounded. “No fucking way.”
“I don’t have time for this bullshit. Big Joe’s blood run in her. Think the bullshit reason she came here is real? Fuck no, especially with this.”
“It might be coincidence.”
“If, maybe, and might, the worse fucking words in the fucking dictionary. If she had something to do with this then she might keep on til all our fucking asses splattered to hell, so maybe we need to bury her now. Fuck you,” Mortician growled when Digger swallowed. “Dig her fucking grave, short and shallow. I’ll fucking kill her myself.”
Digger didn’t respond, following Mortician to where Rack and Meggie stood. While Mortician sized up the situation, Digger grabbed the bud and lit it again. He bit back laughter at Meggie’s watering eyes.
“Don’t breathe in, Megan,” Digger instructed with a snicker, shoving the roll back to Mort, who hit it three times, holding the smoke in and inhaling on the last puff. Maybe, he should just shoot her in the head and see Rack’s reaction. Might be the simplest way to end all this bullshit, then all Prez would have to deal with is Snake. “What’s going on here?”
“Christopher needs to go to the hospital.”
“Excuse me. I’ve got to get back to my work.”
The fear in Meggie’s voice was fucking real. The benevolent politeness in Rack’s tone wasn’t. He allowed the man to pass by and decided to step back for the moment with Meggie, unsure if she was afraid because some of them were still alive or if she was truly afraid for Prez.
“Take him,” Mortician said with easy agreement. “You need to be away from here for now, anyway.” There were still a few bodies to dispose of. John Boy was on his way, but, fuck, motherfuckers couldn’t wait, so…
“I heard the man—Snake—I heard him say the sugar was still there just like they’d been told,” Meggie whispered, her eyes huge. “This might sound crazy, like I just want revenge, but Rack doesn’t act like a man loyal to his brothers.”
She was a fucking civilian, supposedly. What the fuck did she know about how brothers acted toward one another?
“I’m not trying to overstep my bounds—”
Too fucking late.
“But, I think, as long as he’s around, everyone’s in danger.”
“’Ppreciate the intel,” Mortician responded in a neutral voice. Her opinion didn’t matter in the fucking least. Not only was she telling him something a fucking first grader could figure out with a quick observation, she was living on borrowed time. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he added, just to waste fucking air.
Not responding, she threw him an irritated glance before rushing away, unaware she had so little time left to live.
“Short and shallow,” he instructed again before going to the stockroom behind the kitchen for an unopened bottle of bleach.
Two hours later, Mortician halted at the end of the hallway just outside the hospital’s surgical unit. He had just a short walk to get to Megan, who sat all alone. He couldn’t tell if she was sleeping or not. She was motionless. If not for the cameras, this would be the perfect time to pop her.
Approaching her silently, he sat in the seat next to her and noticed the tears sliding down her cheeks. Her chin wobbled.
“Is he going to live?”
Mortician stretched out his legs and sighed at Meggie’s broken-hearted question. He didn’t really understand it, given the short time she’d known Prez. Another reason he called bullshit on her sudden entry into their lives.
“Is he?” she asked again when he didn’t answer her.
“Probably not,” he told her, although he didn’t really believe it. Outlaw was a survivor if nothing else. But why tell her, so she could get Rack in to finish Prez off?
A sob broke free and she covered her face with her hands. “I didn’t get him here soon enough,” she cried. “I didn’t know what to do to make him come.”
He balled his hands into fists to keep from reaching for his gun. He knew he had problems trusting women because of Char. To him, Megan’s tears sounded like every one of Char’s. Each time she’d fucked over him and, then, begged him to take her back.
He got to his feet, intending to go to the cafeteria before he fucked up bad. He waited for Megan’s theatrics, but none ever came. Reaching the end of the hallway, he glanced back and saw her head hanging, her blonde hair concealing her face. Still, her solitary setting and grief-stricken pose made her look lost and alone.
Sighing, he went back to her and crouched in front of her, tipping her chin up and thumbing away her tears. “There a reason why you falling to fucking pieces over a dude you just fucking met?”
“I like him,” she said around sniffles.
Mortician grunted. “You like fucking him.”
Her tear-filled eyes widened. “I-I’ve never…fucked him.”
“Who in the club or associated with the club have you fucked?”
She licked her lips, her skin reddening and adding to the flush of grief. “No one. I-I’ve never had sex before.”
Mortician drew his brows together. “What that mean?”
Surprise took away some of the hurt in her eyes. “I-I’m a virgin.”
Well, knock him the fuck over and kick his fucking ass. He stared at her for a moment, watched as her blush deepened, and her eyes flickered to the floor. Unable to stop himself, he laughed his ass off.
Her face crumpled a little more and he wiped the tears from his own eyes, then got to his feet and dusted off his leathers. The few minutes he’d talked to her, she’d seemed a little less hurt.
“Ahh, Meggie girl, I’m sorry. Let’s go to the cafeteria.”
“They might come out and—”
“How long ago they took him back?” he interrupted, annoyed that her trembling voice and scared eyes made him feel sorry for her. She was really just a girl. Eighteen, if he remembered. With a stepfather who molested her, if he’d heard correctly, and a mother in some kind of danger. If her story was true.
Mort was beginning to suspect it was. Until he’d arrived, she’d been all alone. She’d had no one to put on a show for. She hadn’t even had to remain at the hospital.
He cocked his head to the side. “You should’ve just dropped him off.”
She stiffened, her affronted look funny as all fuck. “He might need me,” she insisted. “When he wakes up. He will wake up, right?”
“If he don’t, where you going?”
“Somewhere.” She gave him a sour look. “What’s it to you?”
“Fuck all,” he admitted. “So you wouldn’t go back to your momma?”
Folding her arms, she glowered at him and it hit him that she wore bloodied clothes. She shook her head. “If that makes me a bad person, I don’t care.”
“Why would I think that?” This girl confused the fuck out of him.
She swiped at her eyes. “Because I’m leaving my mother to him.”
Her stepfather. “Call the fucking cops.”
“She’ll deny everything like she has before,” Megan said in a broken voice. “And then…then he might hurt her really bad because I’m not there to get my punishment. He’d know it was me and he’d kill her. My daddy is…” Her voice trailed off and she swallowed… “was the only one who could’ve helped her.”
“She a grown ass woman, Megan. She can help her fucking self.”
“She can’t!” Megan said, a little wild. “I take care of her. Even when he’s punched me and stuff, before he gets to her, when I wake up, I go to her and clean her up. Why do you think I’ve never told anyone? Not even Farrah and Lacey and they are my best friends. My mom needed me and if I told, I’d be taken away. But then she said Big Joe was coming for me. When I heard that, I decided to come to him instead. I couldn’t reach him by telephone and I couldn’t get into the club and Rack wouldn’t call anyone the night I arrived. Then, I stole Rack’s money and he beat me up, too. But I was hungry and tired and dirty and afraid
and I wanted a happy meal for my birthday and—”
“A Happy Meal?” Mortician interrupted, surprised he kept up with her babbling. “Like McHappy for McKids Happy Meal?”
Wiping her arm across her nose, she nodded.
“Prez know that shit?”
“Yes—”
“You want dick from him, you should’ve kept that shit to yourself, girl. That’s some freaky sounding shit and he not into young bitches.”
“I don’t care!” she wailed. “I just want him to survive. That’s it. I’ll leave if I know he’ll live.”
Mortician doubted she’d walk away so easily, but he’d keep his opinion to himself. She was already on the verge of falling to pieces. Bending, he took her hand and tugged her to her feet. “Come on. Let’s get you back to the clubhouse. You need to clean up.”
“Can’t I stay until he’s out of surgery?”
Mortician could force her to go with him, but he decided against it. Instead, he led her to the bathroom and instructed her to clean her face while he went to the gift shop and bought her a T-shirt to replace her dirty one.
Chapter Thirteen: Sharing Is Caring
“What now?”
At John Boy’s question, Mortician heaved in a breath and passed his flask to Val. They were in a fucking hospital and motherfuckers didn’t like it too much when they drank from open fucking bottles.
“We fucking wait.” Nothing else to do. Prez was in a coma and it fucked Mortician up—almost as much as getting rid of Big Joe had—to see his best friend so helpless with oxygen and IVs and catheters and all kinds of shit he’d never associate with Christopher Caldwell.
Megan stepped inside from the little courtyard she’d been sitting in, chatting with Prez’s sister. She didn’t notice them and, instead headed for the elevators.
John Boy tracked her movements. “Big Joe’s girl, huh?”
Val glanced away while Mortician nodded. “Yep.”
“Christopher made her off-limits because she’s that motherfucker’s girl?”
“He made her off-limits cuz she’s his girl,” Mortician corrected. Spoken aloud, the words sounded fucking insane. Outlaw didn’t have a girl. He had legions of bitches.
“Bullshit,” John Boy scoffed. “Did he say that to you?”
“Motherfucker didn’t have to say the words, assfuck,” Mortician growled. He’d just threatened the fuck out of them because they’d seen her naked. That shit said it all.
“She’s Big Joe’s girl, though.”
“That fucking fact already established, Johnnie,” Val snapped, holding out the flask to him.
“Why is she still breathing?”
“She’s not like her old man,” Val said with a sigh. “I thought about slitting her throat, but—“
Mortician started. “For real? I told Digger to dig a grave for her. I was just going to shoot her. Keep it simple.”
John Boy slid the flask back to Mortician. “Now?”
“She’s innocent. All the shit she was telling me wasn’t an act. Her confronting Rack wasn’t for fucking show. If she just disappear, I don’t think Prez going to just let her go. He’s going to look for her and want answers about where the fuck she at.” Something that, in the heat of the moment just after the shooting, had escaped Mort.
“Any of you get pussy from her yet?”
“John Boy, you been fucking listening?” Val growled. “We think he keeping her.”
“Explain to me again how the fuck that matters?”
“Fuck, I don’t know,” Mortician growled. “You even shared your stuck-up bitch. Ivonla…Ivonya…whatever the fuck that bitch name is—”
“Was,” John Boy interrupted tightly. “We broke off our engagement. Her name’s Iona, by the way.”
“Outlaw never hit her pussy,” Val pointed out.
“No, he knew I cared about her. I never even offered him the opportunity.”
Listening to this bullshit hollowed a deep sense of pessimism in Mortician. Suppose Outlaw didn’t survive? Why not consider that instead of talking about some bitch who thought her pussy was the fucking Holy Grail. “Bitch wouldn’t go for him. He wasn’t snotty enough.”
“I beg your fucking pardon, Mortician? Are you saying I’m snotty?”
“No—”
“I thought not—”
“I’m saying your ass fucking sadity. Who the fuck knew? A sadity one percenter.”
Val laughed. “Mort, what the fuck that even mean?”
“Stuck up. Nose so fucking far in the air you might fucking drown in a rainstorm. Snobbish.”
“Fuck you,” John Boy spat. “What the fuck does that make you? A rich man’s son who’s playing at being a motorcycle man?”
“At least I fucking stay in the game during rough times and don’t turn bitch and go nomad,” Mortician snapped back, his own near desertion weighing heavy on his heart, “so fuck you, John Boy.”
“That’s what you all think of me?” John Boy snarled, the fury in his eyes pissing Mort off.
“Don’t think about your bitch ass often enough to feel any-fucking-way, motherfucker.”
John Boy lunged for Mortician but Val moved fast and held him back. Mortician got to his feet and glared at both of them.
“Shut the fuck up, Mort,” Val demanded. “We don’t need to be kicked the fuck out with Big Joe’s daughter here and Prez so bad off. Both of you calm the fuck down.”
“Fuck you, Mortician.” John Boy jerked out of Val’s hold and walked up to him. “I was there with you and Val. Remember? When we cut Boss’s body up? You fucking remember?”
“You fucking left when he needed you the most.”
“Boss had become a fucking madman. I couldn’t fucking watch him destroy himself.”
“You think that shit was easy on any of us? Most of all your cousin,” he sneered because everyone except Prez knew the lie of that fucking statement. “You think he fucking thinking straight now?”
“He’s not fucking thinking at all, jackfuck. He’s in a coma,” John Boy pointed out.
“If he die, what the fuck then?” Mortician asked, hating the thought but knowing the possibility. Prez was in serious shape. “What happens to the club? What happens to Megan Foy?”
“He’s not going to die,” Val insisted with conviction.
Bleak worry settled into John Boy’s eyes and Mortician regretted his outburst. He was stressed to fuck, though. “If Christopher dies, I’ll avenge him and I won’t need the club’s backing.”
No. He wouldn’t. When all was said and done, John Boy was a sick fuck. The sight and scent of blood excited him. They’d merely dismembered Big Joe. John Boy had done that other gruesome shit that left him in small, little pieces while saving his head as grisly evidence.
Fuck. “I almost wish Megan had been here to betray Prez,” Mortician said with a sigh.
John Boy frowned. “What the fuck? Why? If we had to, we’d kill her, but I don’t relish the thought of killing a girl.”
“Suppose he keep her? You know how much we fucking owe her? She came here looking for her daddy. Prez might’ve killed him but we fucking helped to get rid of him.”
Mortician tested Kiera’s handcuffs before settling between her legs and burying his tongue in her pussy. He licked her cunt seam right to her ass, then glided his tongue up again. Her thighs trembled against his face and she moaned, straining against her handcuffs and ankle chains.
He speared his tongue in and out of her pussy hole, sucking her juices and following the wild gyrations of her hips with ease. He stroked his tongue over her clit again before sucking it into his mouth to finish her off.
The handcuffs scraped against the metal headboard and she screamed, trembling against his lips. Rising above her, he rubbed his dick on her clit, satisfied at her shudder. He braced himself on one hand and bent, sucking her hard nipple into his mouth.
Kiera panted. “Mortician,” she whimpered.
“Shhh,” he whispered, burying his cock ins
ide of her and slanting his mouth over hers. She tasted like the alcohol they’d drank and the weed they’d shared with the faintest hint of mint from the gum she sometimes chewed.
He slammed into her and she pulled at her restraints, tilting her hips to aid his thrusts.
“Let me at least look at you,” she whined around the gasps of breath timed to his dick pounding.
He pecked her lips. “You want the blindfold off?”
“Yeah.”
Smiling, he kissed her hairline trailing his mouth along the curve of her pretty face to her earlobe before licking her neck. “Then beg me.” He worked his cock into her again. “You do it so fucking good.”
She twisted and cried out in frustration at her inability to touch him. He knew how much she liked touching during fucking. He fucked into her, slow and deep, grinding against her pussy and driving her wild.
“God, please! Please, Mortician. Let me see you.”
“No,” he said roughly, burying his face against her neck and pumping into her, encouraged by her moans and shivers. “You like dick,” he panted. “Maybe, this fucking way you’ll remember whose dick in you.”
“I do! I swear.”
“Whose dick owning your cunt right now?”
“Yours, Mortician.” She let out a little sob and metal scraped on metal again. “Yours,” she hissed, arching her back.
He knew she was on the verge of coming. “You come and I fucking spank you then make you eat Ellen’s pussy while I give her dick. You want that?”
She trembled beneath him and shook her head. She was wet and hot and he knew she was going to let go. She couldn’t ever control herself. She liked dick too much and he was fucking glad she did. She had some good pussy.
“Don’t come,” he growled again, his words setting her off. She screamed and tensed against him, her pussy gushing and making his dick jump. Jerking out of her, he raised himself to her mouth, coming the moment she gulped him in.
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 185
