Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  Before she processed it, he brushed past her and walked into her mother’s house as if he owned it.

  I have to go, Meggie. My ex just walked in.

  Your ex? Is that a good thing?

  She glanced between Meggie’s message and Ulner’s narrowed eyed contemplation. She remembered all the times he’d threatened to kill her unless she went back to him. But, mostly, she remembered the way he’d snapped and beaten her after his team had lost the game and she’d refused to have sex with him.

  His gaze fell on her belly and he scraped a hand through the waves in his hair. He had an athlete’s body with rough-hewn features.

  No, she texted back, his appearance flitting through her head, along with the memory of the way his fists had felt against her. Definitely not a goo—

  Ulner tried to snatch the phone away, but she held onto it long enough to press send. He shoved the phone in his pocket and then smiled at her.

  Bailey rocked on her heels and shoved her hands behind her back to keep from touching her belly. “What are you doing here?”

  He licked his lips. “I was in the neighborhood. Heard you were in town. Thought I’d stop in and talk to you. See if you were ready to forgive me.”

  “I forgave you,” Bailey said sharply, attempting to go around him and head to the kitchen, but he put a hand and foot out, stopping her. “Would you like a sandwich or something? Water? Milk?” He didn’t drink sodas. Didn’t do caffeine. Stayed away from any type of medicine. He supposedly kept his body clean. Until he was ready to drink. “I don’t think we keep Gatorade in the fridge anymore.”

  “I came for you.”

  Stumbling away until a chair hit the back of her legs, Bailey sat, determined to keep up a façade of calm.

  He drew closer to her. “You left me. Just deserted me.” His lashes lowered. “Now, you’re expecting?”

  Sitting on the coffee table, he studied her, searching her face, her mouth, her breasts.

  She remembered exactly all the threats he’d made to her, specifically the one to strangle her because she’d left him. “Who told you I was back?”

  He shrugged and leaned forward. “I saw you at a stoplight at an intersection, almost a week ago,” he admitted. “Just in the right place at the right time.”

  No. More like the wrong place at the wrong time. On her part, anyway.

  “Remember what I said would happen to you?”

  “Ulner, I have an innocent baby inside of me. You don’t want to strangle me because you’ll kill it and it…” No, not good enough. She had to make her daughter a person to Ulner, so she could find some bit of sympathy in him. As long as Harley was an it, then Ulner would see it as nothing but a thing to dispose. “Her name is Harley.”

  “Harley?” His gaze dropped to her belly again.

  “I’m six months along.”

  He swallowed, leaned forward and thumbed her lips before caressing her chin and traveling down to her breasts. Finally, he rested his hand on her belly. Harley kicked and Ulner’s eyes widened.

  “She’s moving?” he whispered in awe.

  “She moves a lot. I think…I think she’s going to be very active. Keep me awake at night and—”

  His long, brown fingers settled around her throat and pressed between that hollow space where her neck met her breastbone.

  “As long as you’re alive, she’s alive.”

  “Y-yes,” Bailey answered, hope surging through her when she heard the distinctive sound of the motorcycle pipes. Her heart sank when the sound sped past. Not Lucas, then. She’d hoped maybe Meggie would’ve contacted him after she’d sent the last message. “She’s not quite two pounds yet.”

  His fingers trembled against her neck.

  “She’s o-over a foot long, though.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ve asked my doctor.” He still didn’t look convinced. “You’ll have two murders on your conscience, Ulner. I know you were hurt by our breakup, but sometimes people aren’t meant to stay together. It doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. We just weren’t right for one another.”

  Although he wrapped his hands around her throat, uncertainty slid into his eyes.

  “Please,” she whispered, a last, desperate measure.

  Just as he tightened his fingers to carry through with his plan, the door opened.

  “A motherfucker can’t even have a fucking work free vacation,” Lucas said, anger in his words. “Now, you taking your hands the fuck away from my wife and you coming with me like a good motherfucker.”

  “She’s my woman,” Ulner snarled, getting to his feet and dragging Bailey with him.

  Bailey dug her nails into Ulner’s arm and he yelped, loosening his hold on her enough for her to bring her hands to his face and scratch him there, too.

  “Look, motherfucker. I’m trying not to fuck up Roxanne walls with your brain, but I’m getting real near the point where I’m not giving a fuck. You either let my wife go, now, or take a detour to find your brain on the way to fucking hell.”

  “Says who?” Ulner asked as he turned and faced Lucas, who raised his very big gun at Ulner and cocked it.

  “Says me and my fucking .380, motherfucker.”

  Raising his hands, Ulner backed away from Bailey, not caring that he bumped into a chair and almost fell on his ass.

  “You okay?” Lucas asked, softening his glare a tiny fraction to see for himself, despite Bailey’s soft, “yes.”

  Lucas nodded and waved Ulner over, using his weapon. “We taking a fucking ride.”

  “If I refuse?”

  “Decline and find out.”

  “Lucas, what—”

  “Don’t, Bailey. Just don’t. I didn’t fucking forget what you told me about him over our honeymoon. Now, this? Motherfucker must be out his fucking mind.”

  Was he really going to kill Ulner?

  Um, yeah. He was. She decided this as he calmly pulled out a silencer from his cut and attached it to his .380.

  “Fuck. In the bathroom, assfuck.”

  Ulner snorted.

  “Close your eyes, Bailey.”

  “Lucas—”

  “I’m counting to fucking three. Those motherfuckers still open, don’t fucking get upset at what you witness.”

  “As if,” Ulner said with smug certainty.

  “One.”

  “You don’t have the balls.”

  “Two.”

  “Lucas—”

  “It takes a real man to—”

  “Three.”

  Bailey just had time to cover her eyes before Lucas fired and Ulner’s body thudded to the floor.

  Chapter Thirty-One: A Simple Answer

  Stepping over Ulner, Mortician went to Bailey and lifted her into his arms. She looked at him as if she’d never seen him before and his heart began to pound in his chest.

  They both knew he’d shot her stalker ex-boyfriend as much for Mortician finding the fuckhead choking her as it was for the fact that Bailey had once sucked his dick and allowed him to lick her pussy.

  He pressed her head into his chest, so she wouldn’t see the body and brought her back to her room, laying her on her bed. She didn’t speak, didn’t move, but the mute horror in her eyes spoke volumes.

  “Bailey.”

  What else could he say to her? He didn’t fucking know. She’d cared about Ulner at one time. Even though he’d threatened her and tried to hurt her, Mortician bet she’d wanted his life spared, so it could be handled through the proper channels.

  “You killed him.”

  “Yes,” he responded as if she hadn’t heard the gunfire and the aftermath.

  “You bought a silencer just for this purpose. No matter what you would’ve found, you would’ve shot him.”

  “No, wrong. I brought my silencer. I keep it in my saddlebags.” He nodded slowly. If he couldn’t stand in his own truth, he couldn’t look himself in the fucking mirror. “And, yeah. He touched you.”

  “With my permission,�
� she said in a trembling voice.

  Mortician’s nostrils flared at her words and he scrubbed a hand over his face. “You’re mine. I was your first. No other man knows what it’s like to be inside of you.”

  He reached for her but she backed away. Her rejection cut him, but he understood, too. He was completely laid bare before her. There were no more secrets or lies. She knew about Char. His son. About as much as he did, since Digger blazed out of town before he brought Tyler to see him.

  Bailey knew about him. His life. Now, she also had firsthand proof that he was a killer.

  Wrapping her arms around her expanded waist, she turned her head. “So if I leave you, you’ll do the same thing? Find me and murder whoever I’ve chosen to spend my life with?”

  “He was hurting you.”

  “You would’ve shot him even if he hadn’t been.”

  “I am who I am.” If she hated him for being who he was, then so be it. “I’ve hated him since I found out about him. But if you want to part ways with me, I’m not going to interfere with any man you choose.” He almost choked on the words but he was telling the truth. He’d fucked up a lot with Bailey and he wanted her happy. He wanted to be the man to make her happy, but if he couldn’t be, then he’d let her go.

  “You threatened to kill Fin.”

  At the thought of Finley the Fuckhead, Mortician’s good will deserted him. “He was moving in to your condo, intending to fuck you, while we’re still married and you’re still carrying my daughter. Besides, he’s a yellow-bellied motherfucker. I could’ve been there to fuck you up and he couldn’t get the fuck away from me fast enough.”

  “Lucas—”

  Although he hated to cut her off, he had to. It would just make him seem like all the other times he hadn’t paid attention to her. But time was passing and there was a dead fucking body in her mother’s living room. “I have to take care of Fuckner.”

  She snapped a furious gaze to him, but instead of allowing her to hurl whatever shit she was about to say to him, Mortician threw her a tight smile and headed to the kitchen to find plastic bags.

  Bailey lay against her pillows, too shocked to cry or to move, listening as Lucas did whatever he had to do to make things right and remove all evidence. The sound of the body hitting the floor kept playing in her mind.

  All types of different feelings ran rampant through her. She’d known that, as club enforcer, Lucas probably killed. And Ulner had intended to kill her. That’s why she’d sent the text to Meggie. She’d been afraid. On the other hand, Lucas would’ve killed him, no matter what, simply because she’d had oral sex with him.

  What was she supposed to think knowing that?

  She’d texted her mom, but Roxy said she had a study group and wouldn’t be home until later. Everyone had their own lives now and Bailey was just the returning relative, trying to find a place in their lives again.

  Swallowing, she picked up her phone and sent Meggie a text. Can you talk?

  Sure. Anytime for you. Are you all right? I texted Mortician that he needed to get to you ASAP.

  So Meggie had sent the SOS to Lucas. If she hadn’t, Bailey would be dead. He killed him. Before she thought better of it, she pressed send.

  It seemed to take forever before Meggie responded. I’m not inside your head. It’s hard knowing what type of brutality the man you love is capable of. I’ve been there.

  Bailey knew Meggie had and, although she’d cared about Ulner, he hadn’t been a family member as it had been when Meggie faced a similar situation with Outlaw.

  How do you get over it? He would’ve killed him out of pure jealousy. How do I get over that?

  Think carefully. Don’t rush to make judgments. Mortician is a good man. He loves you. Make it clear he has to control his jealousy. As much as possible. Find ways to calm him down. Sometimes, it’s just a choice of accepting him, faults and all. Set limitations.

  According to Lucas, Outlaw loved Meggie with a singular focus. Nothing made his feelings go away. What are yours?

  Cheating. That and raising his hands to me. I’ll stand by him through anything else.

  Rest.

  You, too.

  Bailey had just set her phone aside when Lucas walked back in. He’d changed his clothes and keys dangled from his hands.

  “Where is Ulner?”

  Glowering at her, he rubbed his gloved fingers through his hair. “Digger got him.”

  “Digger?”

  Lucas looked at the ceiling, then nodded. “I couldn’t…he’s my brother, Bailey.”

  His sadness made her want to cry. He’d been placed in an awful position and Bailey couldn’t begin to imagine how he’d ever exonerate Digger in the eyes of Outlaw. He might’ve acted to save Mortician and Tyler, but he’d just left Meggie there to die. Unpardonable.

  “I know I’m a motherfucker for putting this pressure on you, especially now after all the bullshit I did, but are you coming home with me?”

  “To the club?”

  “Yeah, Bailey. To the club. No matter what I did with my little brother, Outlaw my family. John Boy. Val. Meggie. Chester. Even Red. We all been through a lot together. That’s where I belong.”

  He spoke the last words softly and Bailey knew this was it. The ball was in her court. She saw in his eyes that, if she told him to leave, that she’d stay in New Orleans, he’d walk away and they’d be over. He wanted to include her in his family—or so she believed—but he wouldn’t turn his back on them for her.

  “Will Ulner be found?” she whispered. “I-I mean so his family can—”

  “That’s what the fuck you want?” he bit out.

  She nodded.

  With a growl, he pulled out his phone and sent a text, before stuffing it back into his pocket. “There. Done. Fucker will be found.” He nodded toward the front of the house and jammed his hands in his pockets. “If Roxanne ask why the fuck her house smelling like bleach, tell her I got fucking bored and decided to play Mr. Bitch.”

  Bailey smiled. Leave it to Lucas and his descriptions.

  “The answer I’m asking for is simple. Fucking yes or fucking no. See? A simple answer. You coming with me and giving me a chance to grovel? Or are you staying here?”

  Grovel? Lucas? She lifted a skeptical brow, unable to imagine her man groveling to anyone, including her.

  “If I agree, we can’t have sex for a while. Until we work this out.”

  His brows snapped together. “Can we fuck?”

  She giggled. “No. No lovemaking of any type for now.”

  “Fuck. My dick already pissed as a motherfucker. That mean we sleep in separate rooms?”

  Well, hell. She didn’t want to do that. She enjoyed sleeping next to her husband, having his warmth and his scent surrounding her. “Do we have to?”

  He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, hot consideration creeping into his eyes, matched by a wicked grin. “We can sleep next to each other. I move in my sleep. Feel me? So my dick might end up hard and pressed against you. We can ignore him, though. Right, sexy girl?”

  “Sure,” Bailey agreed through the smile that had become frozen on her face. She’d slept next to him before, so she knew exactly what he meant. Only, those other times, they gave in to their bodies demands.

  “Anything else?”

  “You have to let everyone know I’m yours and I can tell everyone you’re mine.”

  “Deal. What else? Anything with the bet money?”

  She ignored the juvenile urging to ask him not to accept the payout and shook her head.

  “So what now?”

  Here it was, the moment that determined the rest of her life. The decision that would tell her if she could rely on her instincts or if they were worth shit. Every time she’d decided to stay with Lucas, she’d based it on emotion. Now, she wanted to set her feelings aside for one moment and rely on logic. While she believed acceptance and desire, friendship and need, did form the foundation of a true, lasting commitment good judgment helped as
well. She drew in a deep breath.

  “I have your agreement.”

  “Yes. Anything you want.”

  “Then my simple answer is fucking yes.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two: Losses

  The day after Mortician arrived back at the clubhouse, they put together a barbeque for the brothers and their families.

  It was a cool, cloudless day, inching steadily toward October and Meggie’s 20th birthday. She wanted a party to celebrate officially leaving her teen years behind. Prez forbid it. At least he’d allowed her to attend the party deemed as the Big Payout.

  Prez was such a funny motherfucker, having shit like U Got It Bad by Usher, When A Woman’s Fed up by R.Kelly, and Stop Doggin’ Me Around in the playlist. Mort didn’t even know the motherfucker knew shit like that. It tripped Mortician the fuck out because Outlaw knew enough to play the remake of Stop Doggin’ Me Around.

  What the fuck had happened to the ICP-listening motherfucker Mort knew and loved? When had that motherfucker start using fucking songs to tease Mort’s ass?

  Maybe, when he began hanging around the club to watch his wife. Prez wasn’t doing shit lately but being a bossy, controlling motherfucker with his girl.

  Currently, Meggie was seated in a chair in the area right outside the kitchen, madder than a motherfucker, with Stretch and Slipper on each side of her. Almost daring her to move.

  Bailey was there, too, looking more than a little glum, and Mortician wondered if she was regretting her decision to give him another chance. Bunny and Chester were dishing out food, along with the old ladies of a few of the other brothers. They were keeping an eye on Ryan and Little Man as well as the children of some of these same brothers.

  Prez was shooting the shit with club members, including the single ones who had a decided divide and stood on the other side with the club ass, allowed to attend for the unattached brothers. Every minute or two, he searched for Meggie, unable to rest without knowing she was okay. Val was leaning near the doorway to the kitchen, smoking a joint, his eyes on his pregnant wife. Chester was glowing, happy now, and so very pretty with her pregnancy.