Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  “Okay,” a weak, little voice said from behind him.

  Afraid to fucking believe she’d actually answered a fucking question he’d only spoken the fuck aloud because he felt as if he was losing his motherfucking mind, he turned.

  And found his wife’s blue gaze focused on him.

  Opening her eyes, Bunny frowned at the dim light, the glare hurting her eyes. From the softness beneath her, she knew she laid in a bed, but she couldn’t remember how she’d gotten to it. Concentrating really hard and searching her memory she recalled…Trader. Beating her. Taunting her. Getting shot.

  No! My God, this couldn’t be real. The horrific memories flooding her made her moan and shiver. She was dreaming. She had to be. To prove it, she pinched herself, hard, and sucked in a breath and the sting.

  This was real? No! No! No!

  More fog cleared from her head and her heart sank as events returned to her in a slow haze. If not a horrible nightmare, her memories meant Trader had beaten her and caused her to miscarry. Outlaw had detected something and shot Trader, point-blank, in the head. Then, the club had been attacked. Meggie had gotten shot. Digger had kidnapped her and Little Man and…Oh my God!

  They’d been hiding in a wall and then almost burned to death. What she remembered sounded like scenes from a movie script, instead of her life.

  Her last waking thought had been asking Digger not to hurt Meggie’s son. “Little Man!” she called, bolting up and wincing at the pain shooting through her body. She felt as if she’d been kicked, thrown, and then stomped.

  The realization slumped her shoulders. Her sick weakness meant everything she remembered had actually taken place. But where was Meggie’s son? For that matter, where was she?

  She swung her legs over the side of the bed, just then realizing an IV had been inserted into her hand. Blinking, she followed the line up to the make-shift pole and saw the half-filled bag of fluid. More memories surfaced, including the one where she’d asked Digger not to hurt Little Man after…after he’d saved her from the fire? Or had it been before?

  Her thoughts slammed to a halt as another realization dawned on her.

  Digger had saved her when he could’ve left her to burn to death. Not only that, he’d carried her for a while although, at some point, she’d stood on her own two feet and walked. Beyond that, she couldn’t remember anything. She didn’t know her location or if she’d been left alone…Where was Meggie’s son?

  Looking around provided no answers to her questions. The bed took up most of the space in the small room. On the dresser lay all types of medical supplies, including more IV bags.

  As more awareness filled her head, the pressure of her bladder hurt and she groaned.

  “Digger!” she yelled. “CJ!”

  Panic didn’t have a chance to set in before noise just outside her door alerted her that she wasn’t alone. The door burst open.

  “Bun-Bun!” Little Man yelled, his little voice cracking with hoarseness. Barreling toward her at his usual top speed, he looked rested and wore clean clothes, with no visible bruises. His runny nose and flushed cheeks worried Bunny, however. Although it didn’t seem to bother him. He dug in the pocket of his jeans and held a piece of donut up to her, interrupting her intentions to check him for fever. “I save it for you,” he announced proudly, his breath rattling from him.

  She smiled weakly at the smushed treat. Absolutely no telling what adventure the pastry had taken before Little Man stuffed it in his pocket. Happy to see him, she swallowed back her reservations, opened her mouth and allowed him to stuff the food in. She chewed as quickly as possible. “Ummm, yum! Give me high five, buddy.”

  Beaming a smile at her, he followed her directions and coughed, sucking in the snot that leaked from his nose.

  His cold concerned her and she wondered if Digger was giving him anything to treat it. “Where’s Digger?”

  Little Man spun around and pointed to the door. “Sleep.”

  “Asleep?”

  “Uh-huh. Him go night-night. Too tired to stay eyes open.” He pointed to himself. “Him say kid ass beat bad if fuck up.”

  She scowled. Asshole. The idiot had left a small, curious child awake while he rested, then had the gall to threaten him. How smart was that? Although Little Man wasn’t feeling well, he rarely let anything stop him. He could’ve gotten into all sorts of trouble. Wandered off. Found Digger’s gun. Climbed up somewhere.

  Sure, he needed to rest but…shit, Digger was sleeping!

  Standing as coughing racked the child, she stepped to the dresser, glad the length of the IV line afforded her the short distance.

  “How long has Digger been asleep?”

  “Loonnggg time.”

  Stupid question, Bunny. Little Man had no perception of time so an hour might’ve passed since Digger nodded off.

  She retrieved gauze and medical tape, then stared at her hand, grimacing. She hated needles. The sight of them made her queasy. But she needed mobility and she wouldn’t have that if she stayed connected to a stationary IV. Swallowing back her reservations and holding her legs together to keep from peeing on herself, she peeled back the tape that kept the IV in place and licked her lips. She squeezed her eyes shut, then grunted as she pulled the thing out of her vein. Doing her best not to look, she snatched the gauze up and pressed it against the spot.

  She didn’t look at the catheter as she allowed it to drop from her fingers, grabbed the tape and wrapped it around her hand.

  Throughout that entire time, Little Man stood beside her, coughing but also watching her with avid interest, the only reason for his lack of activity.

  “Potty, Bun-Bun?”

  “Yes,” she squeaked, so near to peeing on herself, she didn’t think she’d make it to the bathroom.

  A metal pan slid onto the dresser and into her line of vision. Frowning, she glanced at the boy’s happy little face.

  “Uh—”

  “Dig got for pee for you on potty.” He pointed to the pan.

  “Go right outside,” she ordered, her bladder too full to concern herself with Digger helping her on and off the big bowl fashioned into a bed pan.

  Once she relieved herself, she called Little Man back into the room. She had so many questions, but she only needed the answer to one. Their location. The fire had taken place at Logan Donovan’s farm, so they’d been on the outskirts of Hortensia. She had a vague recollection of Digger complaining about the car being stolen, so they couldn’t have gotten far. Which meant, if she got her bearings, she’d find a public location and ask to borrow someone’s phone to call Outlaw.

  “I need to rinse my mouth and throw water on my face,” she whispered. “Can you show me the bathroom?”

  He nodded, then took her “good” hand, seeming to instinctively know not to touch the bandaged one, though it was closest to him. Tugging her forward, he guided her into a small hallway. It took three steps to cross to the bathroom.

  When she finished her attempt to revitalize, Bunny glanced at herself in the dingy mirror. She wore an oversized T-shirt and nothing else. Only Digger could’ve removed her clothes. The thought of his hands on her body filled her with embarrassment and warmth, affecting her more than she wanted to admit.

  Although in the scheme of all that had happened, his actions meant nothing. He needed to keep Meggie’s son safe to save his own life and he needed Bunny since Little Man promised to behave if Digger kept Bunny. It was ludicrous to read anything else into the fact that he’d saved her life and taken care of her. She wasn’t that much of a dummy. Was she? To allow a handsome face and some selfish motives to make her believe he had another side to him. A kinder side. A real, true altruistic one that had led him to saving Little Man.

  Any of those ideas, all of them, required compassion and she didn’t believe Digger had such care in him. If he hadn’t been threatening to kill her, he’d been asking to fuck her. Yet he had saved her life and he had watched over Meggie’s son for however long Bunny had been out.<
br />
  Maybe, some truth lay in his words. Maybe, his heart had been in the right place, but he just had a strange way of showing it.

  No time to consider any of that right now. The longer she lost herself in thoughts, the less of a chance she’d have to escape and get to Outlaw. She could find out about Meggie’s condition and that of all the others.

  She hurried to Little Man and crouched down. “We have to be super quiet,” she whispered. “We don’t want to wake Digger. He’s really tired. But I want to get you back to your mommie and daddy.”

  His eyes brightened and he nodded. When she stood, he frowned at her legs. She was tall, but the shirt covered all her good parts. Following his gaze, she saw a small amount of dried blood on her lower thighs.

  “I’m fine, sweetheart. I just hurt myself when I fell as we walked from the fire.”

  Quietly opening the door, she peered toward the room ahead and grabbed Little Man’s hand. Finger over her lip, she tipped forward. The combination kitchen and living room was small, with the only other door straight ahead. In between them and freedom, Digger lay on a couch sleeping, his feet propped up on the arm so he could fit his long body comfortably. Just like Little Man, he’d also changed from the last time she’d seen him.

  A quick scan of the room to search for a coat for herself or something to cover up revealed plain, plastic shopping bags, with no discernible store name, stacked on the table. She saw nothing to identify their location or anything that would afford her more than only a T-shirt.

  She didn’t want to risk losing time and searching through the bags. This would be over soon. Once she got her and Little Man away, she could put this nightmare behind her. She’d pick up the pieces of her life and move forward. She’d done it once before with Trader. She could do it again without it.

  First, she’d contact her mom and dad and try to mend fences with them. Pangs of hunger crept in and her stomach growled, the sound loud in the still silence. Tipping forward and keeping her eyes on Digger, she almost stepped on the toys scattered on the floor. Little Man stopped at the box of donuts, gaping open amidst the mess of toys to grab one in his hand and bite into it. Beside the box, on the floor, four donuts were jammed together, pieces missing and a little toy soldier stuck in the middle. Cringing at the thought that her piece of donut had come from that pile, she urged Little Man on.

  At the door, she twisted the knob slowly, gritting her teeth at the creaking hinges. Stepping outside, she halted so fast, Little Man bumped into her leg.

  She gasped in shock at the barren landscape. Apparently, they had gone far. Her surroundings consisted of snow and trees. No civilization. No recognizable landmarks. Nothing.

  “Where you think you going, girl?” Digger’s question snapped the bitter reality of how much distance separated her and the club, into her. “Close that fucking door and get back in here.”

  “Bun-Bun?”

  At Little Man’s confusion, she sighed and backed away from the door, shutting it. Before she even turned around, she knew Digger stood behind her. The warmth of his body surrounded her. Awareness prickling her, she turned and raised her gaze.

  “Thank you for saving me,” she whispered, the intensity of his stare throwing her off-balance.

  At her words, surprise flickered across his face but he dismissed it with a careless shrug. “Go find my smokes, kid,” he ordered Little Man, his tone to the child irritating Bunny.

  “Okay, Dig,” Little Man coughed out, his little feet scampering toward the bedroom and leaving them alone.

  “What you want from me?”

  “Excuse me? Why in the world would you expect me to want something from you?” She narrowed her eyes. “Beside my freedom.”

  “You thanking me and shit. You must want something besides me releasing you. We both know that’s not in your cards right now. So what the fuck’s your game? You want want dick from me. The only time Peyton ever said please and thank you was when she wanted me to fuck her or she wanted money.”

  “First off? I’m not Peyton,” Bunny snapped, her stomach growling again. It offended her that he compared her to his girlfriend. Especially that bitch. “Second, you should think more of yourself than just being dick and dollars. Finally,” she rushed out when his face darkened, “I’m thanking you because you could’ve left me to die. It was admirable and honorable of you to come back for me.”

  He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. “Whatever,” he grumbled. “You were so fucking thankful, you tried to fucking skip out.” He stepped closer and pressed his body against hers, his erection hard between them. “Don’t you think you needed fucking pants?”

  She shrugged. She hadn’t known they were…wherever.

  “I went through a lot of fucking trouble to save you. Now, you want to piss me off and sneak the fuck away?” he asked, burying his nose against her hair.

  Bunny stood perfectly still, not sure if she didn’t move because she’d encourage him to continue touching her, or if she didn’t want to discourage him. Was she crazy? She definitely didn’t want to encourage him! “I don’t want to piss you off, but I want to leave. Little Man has an awful cold.”

  “I have meds here I can give to him.”

  She breathed in Digger’s scent—musk, alcohol, and the faintest traces of cologne. Oh my goodness, she was so not being one of those women who fell for their kidnappers. He still might change his mind about keeping her alive. What happened when she wasn’t useful to him anymore? Not only was he her kidnapper, he was a biker. If she ever hoped to reconcile with her parents, she needed to keep her distance from Digger. Besides, being with Digger meant standing against the club. Unless he resolved the issues he had with them. Even then he’d already made it clear he didn’t want a relationship with her. Neither did she want one with him. She couldn’t waste her time considering such an unlikely scenario. She wanted to escape Digger, nothing more. At the moment, she needed to point out…“You can’t give CJ random medicine!”

  He studied her face, her hair, and lingered on her mouth. Awareness crackled between them and the only thing she remembered was the fact that he’d saved her when he could’ve left her to die. She’d lived when death had been so close. All around her. Walking amongst her friends and stealing them away.

  Digger was life. He was the here and now. She didn’t have to worry about a future between them, because they had none. If she was healed from the miscarriage, she could give herself to him, just to know she had survived and would survive. She wanted to reach out and touch the dreads framing his face, discover his hair’s texture. Feel the hardness of his body. Because maybe she was a woman who fell for their kidnapper. It could’ve been a survival instinct. With her, she just wanted to hang onto the security his illusionary kindness allowed her to feel.

  “Like what you see?” he taunted.

  Hunger and confusion kept her silent.

  “I know you do,” he continued. “So?”

  “So what?”

  “Make me an offer. Tell me what you’ll do for me if I do something for you.”

  He expected her to bargain with her body. He hadn’t said it, only implied it. And not because she’d been a stripper. Digger demanded a deal because she sensed that’s how he conducted his relationships. By bargaining. Emotion had no place in his life.

  “I want to get CJ back to his parents, but I won’t offer sexual favors to do it. I’m just asking you to let us leave. I’m asking you not to try and treat him with whatever drugs you have here.”

  “It worked for you.”

  “Thank God! However, I’m a grown woman, asshole. He’s a small child. You can’t play Florence Nightingale with him.”

  “Florence Nightingale?” he echoed, lifting his brows.

  “Yes, she was—”

  “I know who the fuck the bitch was, Bunny. She pioneered modern nursing or some shit. I’m not trying to play her. I know the kid been coughing and—”

  “And it’s bad. He’s been out in the cold a
nd exposed to fire. He may have pneumonia…”

  He glanced away. “The kid’ll be fine.”

  She understood he had to keep CJ as a bargaining chip, to compel Outlaw to listen to his side. But if he let CJ go, she was willing to stay with him. Outlaw had killed Trader on her behalf. If he knew Digger had her, he might allow Digger to explain himself in exchange for Bunny’s life. “Keep me, but let’s take him somewhere and—”

  “You know where the fuck we at?” he interrupted impatiently.

  She shook her head.

  His arms encircled her waist and he skimmed his lips along her neck, sending a shiver down her spine.

  “I enlisted your brother’s help,” he whispered, his voice deeper and sexier with his mouth so close to her ear. “He got us here. You was in bad shape, so a friend of his got an IV going with antibiotics and fluids. We’ve been hiding out here since then. Gabe brought us some food, clothes, and money. Left his car, but we have to get the fuck going. Sooner or later, Outlaw’s going to his shop. I think Gabe’s a dead man for helping me. I didn’t have a fucking choice if I wanted to save you.”

  His callous disregard of Gabe’s life appalled her. Yanking herself out of his grasp, Bunny glared at him, but Little Man reaching Digger his cigarettes interrupted her words. The moment the child went back to his toy soldiers and squeezing sticky donuts in his hands, Bunny shoved Digger.

  “You fucking asshole! That’s all it ever is with you, isn’t it? I didn’t have a fucking choice,” she imitated. “You didn’t have a fucking choice but to leave Meggie to die with your father’s men so you could kidnap Bailey and save Mortician. You didn’t have a fucking choice over delivering Bailey to your father because you wanted to save your brother. Now, you didn’t have a fucking choice but to sign my brother’s death warrant to save me. But you did have a choice in every situation. All you had to do was go to Outlaw!” she screamed, slightly lightheaded. “But you not having a choice is bullshit, asshole. You do! Two choices as I see it. Outlaw and your father.”