Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  “One that’s been asked by one of us motherfuckers to another motherfucker a lot lately,” Val retorted. “I give you a pass because I understand how fucking hard it is to let fear and pride go for a girl. But, Mort, you just blew Char the fuck away for Bailey—”

  “No, I blew that bitch away because, after she called my girl a bitch, she was going after her and I saw how fucking scared Bailey was. End of fucking story. I’d shoot her again if I had to redo it and the situation was the same. I’ll fucking kill anybody who hurt or scare Bailey.”

  Val laughed and Lucas growled.

  “That shit don’t have nothing to do with loving Bailey, motherfucker.”

  While Bailey’s heart and feelings hurt a little at Lucas’s declaration, Val only laughed harder.

  “No, it just mean you addicted to her young pussy.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Val—”

  “Look, stalker junior, you can fucking deny it all you want, but you haven’t been able to stay away from Bailey since the day you met her. Even before you got her in bed, you were addicted to her. So go blow yourself.”

  “I really hate your fucking ass.”

  “Don’t give a fuck.”

  They fell silent and Bailey felt her eyes droop, wondering what the future held for her and Lucas.

  No matter how he felt about her, she loved him and probably always would.

  Part Two: The Beauty

  Chapter Fourteen: My Old Friend

  Darkness consumed Bailey Andrews, although, in the distance, the noise of the farewell celebration hummed through the crack in the door. She should’ve left the MC and went back to her condo to skip this. The guys needed their sendoff. She just needed her dad.

  Covering her ears to drown out the sounds didn’t help. No matter how long she did so, whenever she lowered her hands, chairs sliding, people talking, glasses clanking, swirled in her head.

  Since she was on premises, she should be out there, too. But she couldn’t. Because they would see her grief and her tears and she didn’t want them to glimpse her pain any more than she’d shown earlier. At her dad’s funeral.

  K-P Andrews was the epitome of strength and she’d dishonor his memory by falling apart. Especially in public.

  K-P. Her daddy. Dead.

  It was so hard to wrap her head around. One day, they’d been arguing about her decision to contact Lucas, and the next…he was dead. Taken from her in an instant. She’d never hear his voice again. See him smile or laugh at her disgust when he ate raw onions. Her dad was stolen from her just when her dreams about Lucas had come to fruition. He’d made love to her, and, then, spent the night with her. The next morning, he’d turned on his phone and gotten a slew of messages about an emergency at the club.

  Bailey had called her dad. She’d wanted to know what was going on, but he hadn’t answered. She hadn’t thought much of it, then. It wasn’t until they’d gotten back to the club. Not only hadn’t he called, but there’d been no sign of him. That’s when she’d started to worry.

  A day later, Outlaw had delivered the news. By his summons alone, she’d known something was wrong. Seeing Meggie in the conference room, along with Lucas, and the others, told her the news would be devastating.

  And it had been.

  Now, she sat on the floor in her father’s room at the club, with no lights on. The faintest scent of his aftershave hung in the air. Cigarette smoke. Lysol. Raw onions.

  She sniffled.

  Soon, this would be just another empty room. Or, worse, a reassigned one. Her dad’s photo would go on the wall with the other Free Bird members and everyone’s lives would go on without him. Hers would never be the same. Because he was gone too soon. Murdered in cold blood.

  A sob escaped her.

  “Bailey?”

  At the sound of Lucas’s voice, she raised her head. Sudden light glared in the room, hurting her eyes and she blinked, swiping at her wet cheeks. Lucas drew closer, his motorcycle boots clunking on the concrete. Halting inches from her, he crouched down and wiped her tears away. He still wore his leathers, when normally he went with just his jeans, T-shirt, and cut.

  Drawing her knees up, she bowed her head and wrapped her arms around her legs.

  Lucas remained silent, but his presence comforted her. She’d sworn to him that she understood the dynamics of their relationship. And she did. He’d never lied to her or made false promises. She’d offered her virginity to him without any strings attached. He’d believed her and taken her up on her offer. Perhaps, she’d been living a fantasy, thinking she’d easily accept those terms or he’d suddenly decide he wanted to keep her. How delusional could she have been?

  Maybe, she could’ve coped better had her dad still been alive. Now, grief filled her up and she saw no reason to stay. She was going back to New Orleans, to her mother. But also close to Ulner, who’d stalked her, attacked her and threatened to kill her. Neither Bailey’s mom or dad ever knew the extend of Ulner’s harassment. Actually, they knew nothing about it.

  She hated making a big deal over anything. She’d learned it only led to more drama, so she either accepted what she couldn’t change, ignored the problem altogether, or attempted to resolve it herself.

  “Hey, girl.”

  “Hey, Lucas,” she responded, not looking up, his nearness blanketing her in warmth and strength, soothing how lost and alone she felt. As much as she wanted to stay in Hortensia on the hope that Lucas would change his mind, she knew better and she couldn’t subject herself to his rejection.

  He cupped her face between his big hands. “My old friend gone, huh?”

  Nodding, Bailey sniffled and licked her lips. The torn pieces of her heart shattered a little more at his words.

  The hurt in Lucas’s voice made her want to comfort him, but, for the first time in a while, words escaped her. And she loved to talk. Besides, if she offered him any comfort, he might guess how deep her feelings for him went. Lucas was a man of action, so sexual comfort would work as his best catharsis. Or so Bailey believed.

  She was so tempted to keep making love with him while verbally swearing she didn’t need or want more from him. He’d just use that as an excuse to never give her any more than his body.

  “Bailey?”

  Shivers raced through her at the sound of her name falling from his mouth. She didn’t even have some type of complicated name with twisty syllables that required his tongue to wrap around the words.

  Bale-Lee. Couldn’t be more uncomplicated.

  Yet, when Lucas said it in his mellow baritone, her senses went wild, her emotions overflowed and her panties almost melted right off.

  He sat on the floor next to her and Bailey turned to him, determined to smile, despite her broken heart.

  The tenderness in his eyes didn’t mask his grief. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her between his thighs, kissing the top of her head before resting his chin in the same spot.

  “It’s okay, Bailey,” he whispered.

  Exhausted, she relaxed against him and cried, unable to stop her tears. Twisting her to face him, he stroked her back, allowing her to express her grief until she couldn’t cry anymore and she became aware of time and place again. His erection pressed against her and she sat up to study him.

  He cradled her face between his hands and thumbed more tears away. Irrationally, her running nose embarrassed her. Heat swept through her and she wiped her hand over her upper lip, laughing nervously at his sudden amusement.

  His hands roaming to the back of her head, he bent and brushed his lips against hers.

  “Snot or not, you still kissable.”

  His words surprised a giggle from her. More than that, it pleased her. He was attuned to her enough to realize why she suddenly felt shy. She poked him. “Dirty.”

  He snickered before kissing her again, his demanding mouth moving over hers. She sighed, opening to allow their kiss to deepen. Instead, he pulled away from her.

  “Even if I wanted to f
uck you, we in K-P room. I don’t need his ass haunting the fuck out of me for sticking my dick in you in here.”

  “We can go to your room,” she blurted, mesmerized by him. “I mean…if you’d wanted to fuck me.” Using her other hand, she wiped her nose again.

  “Snot gone, girl.”

  “Would you stop?”

  “Not as long as you keep doing the nose-to-arm mucus transfer.”

  She frowned at him. “I prefer it on my arm than to have it staring at you while it’s on my face.”

  “That’s because girls worry too fucking much. My dick don’t care about the state of your damn nose.”

  “What does it worry about then?”

  Desire smoldered in his eyes for a brief moment before it flickered out and he snorted, his lips tightening. “Pussy, and not any particular pussy. Just as long as it get into pussy.”

  “Okay,” she said in a small voice, mentally growling for leaving herself open to his hard response. She wiggled out of his arms and stood.

  Lucas got to his feet, too, and searched her face. His shuttered expression demanded she force a smile. She wanted them to part ways with no enmity between them. “I came to let you know I’m leaving.”

  Faced with the wall of his chest, Bailey took a moment to admire him. His strong neck curved into the bridge of his shoulders and the hard biceps of his arms. She forced her attention to his handsome face and concentrated on the news he’d just delivered.

  “Where are you going?” Not that it mattered, since she was leaving, too.

  A half-smile curved his mouth before he brushed his lips over hers again. On her tiptoes to meet him halfway, she pressed her palms against his chest, deepening their kiss before the proud, independent woman inside of her made her pull back. He ran his tongue over his own lips, his regard hot enough to burn her clothes off. But he was experienced and worldly and saw her epic battle guided by her raging hormones.

  He rested his big hands on her hips. “You leaving, too, right?”

  She was supposed to be. Her mother thought she’d return to New Orleans. But Bailey hadn’t given up her condo yet and the man in front of her was the main reason. The admission made her wince.

  However, if she left for good, she’d also be so far away from her dad’s grave, a place where she could visit and talk to him.

  She looked at Lucas, touched his dreads, and stared into his eyes. “I-I think so,” she responded. She needed to weigh the pros and the cons of leaving versus staying. Pro: Her dad was close by. Pro: Lucas was, too.

  No, that wasn’t a pro. Lucas being near went into the list of cons. Maybe, it warranted a spot on both sides of the list.

  Lucas didn’t intend to ever settle down. To be around the others who’d been so much a part of her dad’s life, she’d also have to be around Lucas. Watch him with other women and imagine him pleasuring someone besides herself. Or getting pleasure from them. Or just giving them his attention.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Vegas.” Blowing out a breath, he scrubbed a hand over his face. “Val sending me on a run. Think, maybe, I need to get away for a minute to deal with…” His voice trailed off and he looked away. “My old friend. His death and shit.”

  He was taking her dad’s death as hard as she was, which made her fall for him a little harder. She caressed his jaw, to touch him and to console him. “Dad cared about you a lot.”

  A short laugh. He blinked and averted his gaze, wrestling away any emotion bubbling to the surface. “I was one of his favorite fucking roaches, huh?”

  They fell into silence as the drums of time beat towards their inevitable ending. They’d go their separate ways and never see each other again.

  He guided her toward the bed and urged her down. “I got to hit the road, girl.”

  Nodding, she offered her brightest smile, tears filling her eyes again. She lowered her lashes. “Bye, Lucas. Be careful.”

  “See you around, Bailey.”

  Mortician stood right outside K-P’s door, ordering himself to move the fuck away. After telling Red about his run, he’d decided to seek out Bailey and do the same. Things had been happening so fast over the past few days. Fine for him because he was used to it. His life moved at warped speed. Not so much Bailey, who’d grown up in the civilian world.

  She was a normal girl with a normal life. She needed to be consoled and reassured. Mortician hadn’t gotten the chance to talk one-on-one to her. Mainly, because he hadn’t been able to get his head in the right place to talk to her and remember that he wasn’t susceptible to any woman. Especially a girl ten years younger than him.

  Most men, at one time or another, had a virgin in their bed. Some motherfucker, somewhere, had to be a bitch’s first. Most of the time, a bitch didn’t stay with her cherry popper. Being first in the pussy wasn’t anything special.

  Although he hadn’t been convinced at the truth of his logic, he hadn’t wanted her to find out he’d left through the grapevine. On her way out, maybe, expecting to see him a final time…

  She hadn’t been present for most of the speeches about her father and he’d suspected her location almost immediately.

  He’d talked to her enough to know how her head worked. Suspecting she was grieving alone in her father’s room and seeing her were two different things. Her complete devastation fucked with Mortician’s head. He didn’t want anything to hurt her, but he couldn’t shield her from this. She’d adored her dad and K-P had loved her just as much.

  Kind of how Mortician’s mother had loved him and how he’d loved his mom in return. But he’d only had his mother for seven years. He barely remembered her. Bailey had her dad for almost twenty-one years.

  At least she’d reached adulthood, so she’d need her dad in a different way now. Like vetting motherfuckers who were chasing behind her. Not that it would help. Not if Bailey wanted a motherfucker to chase her.

  Mortician had wanted her and he’d gotten her.

  Okay, so, maybe, she’d need her dad to walk her down the aisle. Bailey wanted a big church wedding and a honeymoon in Santorini and Cyclades. As in fucking Greece.

  A honeymoon. In Greece.

  Mortician wasn’t sure which part horrified him more. The thought of going to ancient ruins for three weeks—her allotted time—or the word honeymoon. While he’d love to get a little honey from her beneath the moon, it was what came before the honey and the moon that fucked him up.

  To have a honeymoon, she’d need a fucking wedding. That fucked up the beauty of the rest of it.

  Scratching his chin, he scowled. The words Bailey, marriage, and honeymoon shouldn’t be anywhere in his thoughts, especially associated with him. Not that he’d ever thought about marrying her. All he wanted to know was he hadn’t planted his kid in her.

  That was it.

  After that, he hoped for the best for whatever she wanted in life.

  Big ass church wedding. Vacationing in Greece.

  Vacation, huh, motherfucker?

  The type of vacationing she’d be doing also involved her fucking someone who wasn’t him. His sweet Bailey. Belonging to someone else. But her grief might drive her to some random fuckhead.

  He started forward, then stopped again, remembering how the tears shimmering in her eyes had made the green in them swallow up the brown. They’d glistened like leaves after a rainstorm. Her mouth had spoken bye. Her eyes had said stay.

  What should he do in this situation? Walking the fuck away appealed to him. Going back in that room where she was alone, vulnerable, and in dire need of a fuck, would lead to trouble. She was trouble. Although loathe to admit it, he should never have taken her pussy. Now that he’d had her, he wanted to continue to have her. The idea of another man in what he considered his, made him want to kill.

  What the fuck was wrong with him?

  Somehow, he’d always extricated himself from sticky fucking situations, found a way to walk away easily. But that was fucking it right there. Bailey wasn’t demanding h
e stay. Her body language said it. Her eyes begged it. Her mouth, though? Her beautiful, delicious, ripe mouth? It said goodbye. It let him off the hook.

  Damn if his fucking heart…fuck, no…his head…uh-uh, not that shit either…his dick. Yeah, damn, if his dick took the cue and allowed him a clean break.

  It was his dick, right? The appendage formerly known as Roscoe. He wanted her more than any other part of Mortician. Right? Motherfucker had gone on strike for all other pussy, so that must be fucking it. Maybe, he should bring her to his room and fuck her as she’d suggested to clarify where they stood. Fuck, that sounded like the perfect plan. Except…Mortician couldn’t stick his dick in Bailey without heed on the regular. Somewhere, some way, someone would get fucked and not just literally.

  Besides, she deserved more respect than just being a pussy to come in. Not only as K-P’s daughter, but because she was Bailey. Mortician’s sweet, talkative Bailey, who made him laugh and feel. He almost understood Outlaw’s craziness behind Meggie. Almost. No way, no how, would Mortician ever stalk Bailey like Outlaw did with Meggie. He wouldn’t go off the deep end if Bailey left for an overnight stay somewhere.

  Bailey could come and go as she pleased, and Mortician wouldn’t sweat it.

  Now, though, more than his pride in losing, and man-woman dealings, was on the line. His money was, too. 20Gs specifically.

  However, everyone was distracted, and the hallway monitors were off. No one would take note and call him on going to Bailey. Even if they did, no one knew he’d fucked Bailey.

  They suspected.

  Suspecting and proving were worlds apart. Motherfuckers were innocent until proven guilty. Or so the law stated. That shit wasn’t quite right, though. More like guilty until proven innocent, and Mort was guilty as a motherfucker.

  As long as Bailey’s belly didn’t start swelling with a baby, not a motherfucker could accuse him of shit. And, anyway, without actually seeing him fuck her, they wouldn’t be able to pin paternity on him if she turned up pregnant.

  Only, they could. If Bailey was knocked up, Mortician would let everyone know. No way in fucking hell would he ever allow another kid of his to go unclaimed.