Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  “Hi five,” he repeated, slapping his small hand against his mom’s.

  “Okay, boys, time to get to bed,” Bunny said, reaching for Ryan. Christopher stopped entertaining his nephew and sat him on his feet.

  Once Meggie whispered to Little Man and showered his cheeks with kisses, his father took him and spoke in low tones, before putting him down.

  He grabbed his father’s leg. “My ‘law. Love my ‘law.”

  “Yeah, boy,” he responded gruffly. “And I fu…” he scowled and sidled a glance to Meggie… “I love you.”

  Bunny took Harley into her arms then led the boys out.

  Roxy cocked her head to the side and considered Outlaw. “I learn something new about you all the time.”

  “Yeah?” he asked with a frown, going to the bar. He picked up a bottle of tequila. “You want a pint, John Boy?”

  “Fuck yeah.”

  After Christopher handed Johnnie the vodka, he returned to his seat next to Meggie, already swigging from his tequila. She crawled into his lap, and laid her head on his chest, to which he immediately nosed her hair and kissed the crown of her head.

  “You want to know what I learned?” Roxy pressed.

  “Nope. Cuz I don’t give a fuck.”

  Meggie poked Christopher’s chest, but he shrugged.

  Roxy sighed. “Ready to hear the music at least?”

  “I ain’t escapin’ this bullshit, right?”

  “No, you sure the fuck aren’t.”

  “Then play it so me and Megan can get the fuck upstairs, and I can give her my gift.”

  The first track, Say You Love Me, by Jessie Ware, set a romantic atmosphere, that even Roxy’s watchful eye couldn’t dampen.

  Johnnie pulled Kendall against him, and tangled his hand through her hair, pressing kiss upon kiss to the top of her head.

  “What type of house would you like?” he asked suddenly.

  Kendall’s heart began to beat hard and fast at the question. Since she hadn’t expected it, she was clueless about what to make of it. “What do you mean?” she asked slowly.

  “I mean, you know,” he hedged. “If we ever get to that point, what would your specifications be?”

  “Where are you planning on building it?”

  “Remember the cave we went to?”

  The cave where he’d originally asked her to marry him. She’d turned him down then, too, believing he’d proposed just because of her pregnancy. She winced. “Yes.”

  “Near there, closer to the waterfall. Our property line ends not far away, but I thought it would be a beautiful backdrop. I wanted our bedroom facing east, so we could enjoy the sunrise.”

  “What did you do today to make my dream come true? Whatever it is, do it again tomorrow.”

  “Aww, gorgeous, if you only knew.”

  His wry tone sounded ominous. “What did you do?”

  He sighed.

  “Johnnie?”

  “We killed a fuckhead who needed to go to ground, got rid of the body, hit a joint, and had a couple of beers at the clubhouse in Christopher’s office.”

  “Oh. My. God! Are you serious?”

  “Quite.”

  “And…and…you’re all just playing with two toddlers and…and-”

  “It’s what we do, Kendall. This is my life. It doesn’t mean I’ll bring it home with me.”

  She glanced at Meggie, who was threading her fingers through Christopher’s hair and allowing him to kiss her senseless, not seeing the biker. She saw the man.

  Kendall glanced at Johnnie, the words to a new song, one she’d never heard before, floating to her. “What’s this, Roxy?”

  “Fire and Desire by Rick James. Real music,” she added. Her pumps had been removed, and her feet dangled over the side of a chair. Drink in hand, she seemed utterly and completely relaxed. “I was a child when this shit hit the airwaves, but one of my boyfriends was into this music. K-P and I made Bailey on this song.” Roxy laid a finger on her cheek and pursed her lips. “Hmm. Then, again, it might’ve been Super Freak or Give It To Me Baby.”

  “I like the sound of that,” Meggie breathed. “Give it to me, baby.”

  “Wicked little bitch,” Christopher said, not wasting time getting to his feet, and carrying her out.

  “Sick motherfucker,” Roxy said fondly.

  “I fuckin’ heard that,” Christopher yelled, “so fuck you.”

  “Fuck you right back.”

  Chuckles floated back to them, but no more words.

  Roxy got to her feet. “I have to get everything cleaned up.” She came to them, reached down and hugged Kendall, then did the same with Johnnie. “Don’t let her get away again.”

  Johnnie smiled sheepishly. “I’ll try my best not to.”

  Once they were alone, Kendall warmed under Johnnie’s touches, marveling at how peaceful she felt without expectations of sex. An intimacy greater than she’d ever felt wrapped around them. She listened to the music, enjoying the peace and silence between them. They had hurdles to overcome, but she had more hope for their future, than she’d had in a very long time. If ever.

  “Do you still want to know what type of house I want?”

  Another kiss. Another brush of his fingers on her cheek. “Yes.”

  “One that’s filled with us, our family, and the closeness we have now. Wherever that might be, doesn’t matter, as long as we’re together.”

  At his silence, Kendall tensed, half expecting—hoping—he’d say he loved her, and scared he’d rebuff her completely.

  “Thank you for that,” he said, his words neutral, disappointing and relieving her all at once. “For now, we stay at the club. Okay?”

  She swallowed. “Okay.”

  She’d awakened still not knowing her place and still harboring resentment. She’d been the biggest loser of all, in her misplaced quest for justice.

  From this day forward, Kendall would try her best to be a winner.

  Dear Diary,

  I’ll be released from the facility in one week. The closer it comes for me to walk away, the more nervous I grow. I’m also anticipating the moment I see Johnnie again. It’s an odd combination of fear and expectation.

  One focus in therapy the past few days has been the pattern of abuse I suffered from my mother, from classmates and from Spoon. Dr. Stanton suggests I join a battered woman’s program. He still believes I may have certain triggers that’ll set me off or stunt all the strides I’ve made.

  I disagree.

  He claims that isn’t shocking.

  I suppose the reason I go ballistic, on Meggie’s behalf, is because I feel as if she’s being abused. Yes, my internal struggle over her continues. I wish it wouldn’t. I wish I wouldn’t think of her and see my mother, falling apart because of my father’s death. She’s Caroline, too, to me, the sex object of a misogynistic brute.

  And, still, she’s Emily, perfect and delicate.

  How can I want to save her from herself and still wish I’d never met her?

  Dr. Stanton believes she will act as my trigger.

  Again, I disagree.

  This time, he only glared at me and said, “Shocking,” in the driest tone I’ve ever heard.

  To me, it feels as if I have a new lease on life, my confusion and ambivalence over Meggie notwithstanding.

  If I’ve accepted nothing else, I have finally come to the conclusion that I’m a tall, curvy woman. (To me, this acceptance is concrete evidence that there’s nothing about Meggie that would trigger a meltdown in me.)

  At the moment, I’m a pregnant, tall, curvy woman. Both my child and I need nourishment. I’m going to be a mom, and I will endeavor to be the mother to my son or daughter that I never had.

  Charlotte has stepped in. She’s attentive, elegant and cultured, the kind of mother I always wished I’d had. She’s perfect for me. Involved in her numerous charities, she also makes the perfect wife for Brooks. It shocked me to discover she’s aware of her husband’s more shady dealings. />
  I realize I expect everyone to practice deception.

  Dr. Stanton said that’s another reason why I undermine any chance at close relationships. There’s a depth and a variance to every association, up close and personal or not. It all goes back to my perception and how I define my own self-worth.

  Didn’t we have this discussion before? Yes, several times. I’ve written about it in my journal even more. I can honestly say my self-esteem has risen and I’m more comfortable with my body. I’m happy to have Charlotte as a maternal figure, but she doesn’t approve of Johnnie. She is suggesting I find a man more suited to my tastes. In actuality, I think it’s more suited to her tastes.

  That’s a revelation, and I further understand that MY criticism towards Meggie is better suited to my tastes and my life’s experiences. I see myself being who I expect Meggie to be. It’s so much easier to see another person changing into the vision you have, than it is to change yourself. I stand in my own truths, though. Meggie stands in Christopher’s. Charlotte, while opinionated, is self-possessed, and wants the best for me, even though she’s out of line in her disapproval of Johnnie.

  My man. My choice. My life. I’m a big girl, well over the age of twenty-one.

  At one time I would’ve told her that, but I hesitate to do so now, because I don’t want to lose her any sooner than I have to. If she makes me choose between her and Johnnie, she will lose.

  Where will I find the motherly advice I’ve come to rely on? What’s more, if I insult her, I’ll lose another family that has accepted me. Whether I appreciated, or liked all of Johnnie’s friends and family, they were a sacrosanct unit, and they welcomed me into their inner circle.

  I will always have a link to them, and Johnnie, even if, for some reason we don’t work our issues out. I’m having his baby. I want to discover the sex of it so badly.

  I’m hoping for a girl. I can guide her and raise her to be a strong woman, who’ll stand on her own two feet. We can go shopping together, and share secrets, and my love of the fine arts. The way Charlotte does with her daughters. She’s fair but firm.

  I doubt it matters to Johnnie if I have a boy or a girl…Scratch that. I think he’ll make an excellent father either way, but if I give him a daughter, that’ll work in my favor a hundredfold. He’ll want to be there to protect his little girl from the male species. He knows what a devastating effect the right man can have, on even a sensible woman’s emotions. Only a man can advise his daughter on what men are like.

  Charlotte is calling me. We’re heading to the Pearl for dinner and an art show. Dr. Stanton has given permission for me to leave the premises for four hours.

  I have to get used to the outside world again.

  Chapter 10: The Sex of the Baby Is

  Johnnie walked the perimeter of the land he’d chosen to build a house on for Kendall so many months ago. Now, instead of it only being cleared, there were markers according to the blueprints he’d chosen. He’d had three sets for Kendall to look at during the honeymoon-that-never happened, but now he decided he’d choose the layout. For him, her ability to trust that he always had her best intentions in mind was important. Perhaps, even the deciding factor for their future.

  In his mind, at least.

  The frozen ground crunched. He turned, as Christopher, Cash, Stretch, and Val arrived at the site. Not quite a construction site, yet, but he wanted the house nearly completed by the time Kendall delivered, in five weeks.

  She’d been so much better in the days since the dinner. Maybe, he’d offer Roxy an interest in the lab, anything, if she just stayed with them. Or made herself available 24/7, or whenever Kendall felt a meltdown coming on.

  Although he hated to admit it, he believed not seeing Megan for the past week, had greatly helped her.

  That spoke volumes.

  Christopher tossed a cigarette and stopped next to Johnnie. He glanced around, his gaze settling on the rocky area, blanketed in snow, and the hint of the cave entrance fifty yards away. The cold, gray morning promised more snow. “This fuckin’ nice.”

  “I want it done in forty-five days,” he announced to no one in particular, although Christopher snorted.

  “With the fuckin’ snow and bad weather? That shit ain’t gonna happen, Johnnie.”

  He turned to Cash, surprised to find him and Stretch standing apart from them, engaged in an intense conversation.

  “Lover’s quarrel,” Val said with a sigh.

  “Stretch need to check his bullshit,” Christopher growled. “He gonna end up bein’ responsible for his and Cash deaths, or he gonna be responsible for gettin’ a coupla stupid motherfuckers killed.”

  Mainly Cowboy. Johnnie didn’t have to be told who Christopher meant. Since church, the man seemed to stick around and watch Stretch like he was studying a lab rat.

  Kendall had explained the scene she’d witnessed when she’d come to the main room, the morning after her arrival. While Johnnie didn’t agree with her interference, he appreciated her position. When all was said and done, she was right.

  “Fuck, John Boy,” Christopher said, now, rubbing his neck. “I fuckin’ agree that Kendall was right.”

  Johnnie and Val exchanged a glance. Val’s eyes were ringed with fatigue. Poor bastard! Zoann, Ryan, and their new, six-day-old baby were wearing him the fuck out. Tiredness would’ve explained away Val agreeing with Kendall.

  But Christopher?

  Johnnie grinned. “That fucking hurt to say Kendall was right, huh?”

  Shoving Johnnie’s shoulder, Christopher glared at him. “Cowboy a good standin’ member, but I ain’t puttin’ up with his type of bullshit. If he do something to Stretch, I’m buryin’ him. But I might fuck up Stretch, too, cuz the motherfucker tryin’ to get to Cash and all he doin’ is riskin’ shit.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “So, yeah, your woman right. He know the rules. If he can’t get control of his shit-”

  “What are we doing here?” Cash barked.

  Johnnie glanced in Stretch’s direction and saw him storming away.

  “Outlaw, you let him stay. What’s goin’ on not much different with jealous girls, except…?” Val’s voice trailed off and he shrugged.

  Cash bristled. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “Just what the fuck it sound like, motherfucker,” Christopher snapped. “Your fuckin’ man and his fuckin’ man. Get that motherfucker straight or I will.”

  Val snickered. “He’s about as straight as he’ll ever be.”

  After lighting a cigarette and allowing it to hang from his mouth, Christopher punched the side of Val’s head, sending him on his ass. “Shut the fuck up. This shit not a fuckin’ joke, dumb fuck.”

  “You right, Outlaw,” Val mumbled, staggering to his feet.

  “Cash, I’m gonna give you a chance to talk sense into fuckin’ Woo-Woo Boy.” Christopher puffed on his smoke. “Ain’t ever been curious ‘bout shit that don’t directly affect my fuckin’ ass, but fuckin’ Woo Woo Boy? What kinda shit is that?”

  “The fact is that he lives with his head in the clouds. I didn’t know when I met him, but he feels protected and insulated by you fucks, especially you, Outlaw,” Cash added with disgust.

  “Well, he gettin’ fuckin’ stupid. I prefer to throw him the fuck out the club, then to see his dumb fuckin’ ass killed by Cowboy. I ain’t got no complaints ‘bout Stretch. He loyal and he get shit done. He excellent at keepin’ track of my Megan and I hate to fuckin’ lose him.”

  Val rocked back on his heels. “Maybe, Meggie could talk to him.”

  “What the fuck you said?” Christopher snarled, his demeanor changing immediately from the club president to the psycho stalker wild man.

  “Stupid motherfucker didn’t mean anything,” Johnnie inserted quickly. “Deal with him later. We’re here to talk about the house I want for Kendall. I can’t stay much longer. I have to meet Kendall at the OB’s office.”

  Another cigarette flicked away. With one, last evi
l stare at Val, Christopher went on the move again. “You know what she havin’ yet?”

  “We’ll find out today,” he said as casually as possible. He wanted to know, so he’d have a chance to get over his disappointment if she wasn’t having his son.

  “Megan havin’ another boy,” Christopher said, not sounding as happy as Johnnie thought he would.

  But… “A son?” Johnnie asked with a frown. “Isn’t she having twins?”

  “Yeah, she sure the fuck is. She havin’ a son and a daughter, I ain’t lookin’ forward to that shit. I’m gonna have to be cuttin’ off dicks for days.”

  “You’re fucking insane,” Johnnie said with amusement, then drew his brows together in a frown. “Fuck, suppose Kendall is having a girl?”

  “Have fun, fuckheads,” Val chortled. “Zoann is on birth control now, so there’ll be no more babies for us anytime soon.”

  “Girls are fun,” Cash offered.

  “Fuck off, motherfucker. We bein’ serious. Girls fun when you ain’t related to them.”

  “No, Christopher. I have a little sister. Half-sister,” he amended with a frown. “Georgie…Georgiana. She lives in Houston, with our dad, our half-brother, and their mother.” He thrust his fingers through his hair. “I haven’t seen her in years. I can’t stand my stepmother or my step-grandmother.”

  “Your fuckin’ point?” Christopher asked impatiently.

  “Girls bring out your protective instincts,” Cash said with a shrug.

  “Fuck, if he’s anymore protective of the females in his life, we don’t stand a fucking chance,” Val grumbled.

  Christopher smirked at him. “I ain’t envyin’ Mort for fuck. Harley gonna give that motherfucker a run for his fuckin’ money.”

  “It sounds as if you’re about to get yours, too,” Johnnie pointed out.

  “Her name gonna be Rebel.”

  “Rebel?” Val echoed. “What the fuck kind of name is that?”

  “That’s the fuckin’ name my girl want. The babies in her belly, so she can call ‘em Bitch and Bastard for all I give a fuck.”