Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  “Christopher,” Megan whispered. “I’ll try to have enough energy to…um…you know…suck you,” she mumbled, slanting an embarrassed glance to Roxy. “You know why?”

  Fuck, his head was starting to fucking hurt. “Cuz you love my fuckin’ ass?”

  “Well, that’s it, but remember what you once said to me?”

  He’d said so much to her, he couldn’t fucking remember most of the shit, at the moment. “No,” he murmured, laying back and wincing at the combination of water, flower stems, and pieces of glass under his head.

  “Sit up,” she demanded, “before you get a piece of glass in your skull.”

  “What the fuck my ass said to you that you want me to fuckin’ remember?” He sat up, so she wouldn’t worry herself, but he really wanted to sleep, so fucking much that he couldn’t hold his head up. He laid back again.

  “You’re the strength I need to carry me.”

  He remembered telling her that. He also remembered when.

  “You are, Christopher, but right now, I’m your strength to carry you. It doesn’t mean you’re weak or you’ve failed us. It just means you’re human, so grieve for your sisters and rage at the deaths of your nieces however you must. I won’t let anyone blame you or say mean things to you. But no one blames you. You have to know that. And, if someone does, well, fuck them.”

  Her lovely face blurred in front of him as she cussed. Although laughter rumbled from him, his eyes slipped closed and he fell asleep, finally succumbing to the rum, tequila, and weed.

  Like its sister city of Alburquerque, Spain, Albuquerque, New Mexico sat in the shadows of a mountain range. And similar to his current trip where the Sandia Mountains served as a beautiful backdrop, his stop in the city located in the Badajoz province in the valley of the San Pedro Mountains, had been just as unplanned. Then, he’d been on a road trip to Portugal and had gotten lost.

  At first, Digger thought maybe some bumbling official had accidentally misspelled the city’s name. But, no. Somewhere, he’d been told Alburquerque, Spain had been dubbed the city with the extra ‘r’.

  Then, he’d convinced himself he was running for his life, when actually he’d been enjoying the sights, the food, and the people. Outlaw had allowed him to live. That had been child’s play, where he and Peyton had engaged in a fuck fest across Europe. Now, however, he was truly on the run, and he couldn’t pause to enjoy any of the wonders of Albuquerque.

  He focused on navigating the roads that would bring him and Bunny to safety, and away from Sharper or the men who’d come after him on Sharper’s behalf. Besides keeping him and Bunny alive, Digger’s main objective was trekking the twenty plus hours back to the club.

  As they neared the city of Farmington, and he pulled into a rest stop for Bunny to stretch her legs, a sign reminded Digger of the Four Corners, the point where Arizona, Colorado, Utah, and New Mexico met, was nearby.

  When he walked out of the public bathroom, he found Bunny standing in the breezeway, staring at the contents of a vending machine. It occurred to him that she didn’t have money. She didn’t even have ID.

  “Hey,” he greeted, walking next to her.

  Her smile didn’t hide her exhaustion. “Hey.”

  “We been on the move for hours, huh?”

  She nodded. “Since about eight this morning.”

  In between that, they’d been almost killed, took a six-hour trip, before hitting the road again almost five hours ago.

  “How’s your arm?”

  “A pain in the fucking ass, more than anything.”

  “You’ve been shot before?”

  “No. Gunshot virgin.”

  “Oh my goodness, you did not just say that!”

  A wink and a grin accompanied his careless shrug. “Badge of honor.”

  “You’re an asshole.” The words carried no heat and judging by the amusement in her eyes, she was teasing him. “I’d think having a bullet lodged in you and then dug out so primitively would hurt like hell.”

  “It doesn’t,” he said honestly. “At least not right now. Maybe, it’s the adrenaline.”

  Refocusing on the vending machine, she asked, “Do you have a couple of dollars?”

  “I have more than a couple, girl. Unfortunately, I have no ones, fives, or coins of any type.”

  “I’m hungry.”

  Understandable. He didn’t remember her eating much at Father Struthers’s place.

  “Let me find an area map. Maybe, we can find a nice place to eat.”

  All area maps were gone from the clear plastic rack hanging near the front of the building, but he noticed what looked like a map, crumpled nearby in the grass. When he picked it up, he discovered he was right, and quickly honed in on a nearby shopping mall. Unfortunately, the place had been closed for an hour. Reading further, he found an alternative and headed to Bunny to offer his idea.

  “How about we check into a hotel for the night?”

  “Won’t you lose time?” she asked around a yawn.

  “We will, but I’m fucking tired and so are you.”

  “I’m more hungry than tired.”

  If she wanted to believe that, Digger wouldn’t fucking argue. She looked ready to drop. “A hotel will have room service. You can eat and I can rest.”

  “Well, I won’t argue with that.”

  When they arrived at the hotel, displays of brochures for the various landmarks caught his attention. He intended to scoop a few up and bring to his room, so he’d pass the time. Resting wouldn’t happen, not with his mind so filled with everything.

  Most importantly, he was debating on calling Outlaw now or waiting until he got to the club to face the man.

  “We don’t have two adjoining rooms,” the clerk announced as Bunny joined him, a small stack of brochures in her hands.

  “Why do we need adjoining rooms?” Bunny asked with a frown.

  Was she fucking serious? He scowled at her. “Only so much torture my dick can take, girl.”

  The chubby clerk with a cherub face smiled.

  “I’m with you,” Bunny said in a soft voice, a blush coloring her features.

  “Don’t,” he growled, low.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t what?”

  “You know what the fuck you doing, Bunny,” he snapped. “Teasing my dick. Stop it before I take you up on your offer, park this motherfucker inside you, and fuck your brains out.”

  “Excuse me, sir?” the clerk said. “Will it be one or two rooms?”

  “One,” Bunny answered, at the same time Digger yelled, “Two!”

  “Please, Mark.”

  He gritted his teeth, unable to decline her, despite how much common sense told him to. “One room.”

  “Double or king?” Cherub face said. “Never mind, my guess is double.”

  “Oh, so you got fucking jokes, huh, clerk woman?” Digger grumbled, glaring between Bunny and the hotel clerk.

  “I’m a reservation agent, sir,” she corrected.

  “Whoever the fuck you are, give me what the fuck you have available and closest to the restaurant that offer room service.”

  “You got it.” She keyed in some shit, her fingers fucking moving faster than the speed of lightning, her eyes going between her screen and Digger’s ID. Finally, she held up two key cards. “You’re in room two-oh-seven, sir. It’s a—”

  “I don’t want to know,” he interrupted. All it would do is add shit to his already crowded brain. If it was a double, he’d be disappointed. If it was a king, he’d begin to devise ways to get into Bunny’s pussy.

  Opening the door and flipping on the light, he allowed Bunny to enter first. Her snorted laughter clued him in on what he’d find. Sure enough, in all its glory, stood a nicely made up king-sized bed.

  Bunny quickly chose a side and lay on her stomach, groaning. “We can’t do anything right now. I need a few more days to heal from the miscarriage, I think.”

  Her words halted his advance to the heating unit. “You mean you�
�d let me in that sweet pussy?”

  Seeing the very pretty shade of deep pink her cheeks turned intrigued him. She’d been around crude motherfuckers for years so he couldn’t believe she actually blushed.

  “Trader didn’t call your cunt a pussy?”

  She sat up with a huff, releasing her mass of hair from its elastic band. “Yes,” she hissed.

  He grinned. “So it’s me figuring out you’d give me pussy that’s making you blush, huh?”

  “Just stop it, Mark. There’s more important things at hand.”

  The words sobered him somewhat and he nodded. “Fuck, yeah.”

  Instead of continuing to the heating unit, he detoured and sat on the bed. She scooted next to him and laid her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, as if it was the most automatic gesture in the world.

  “So many lives lost in such a short period of time.” She said in a voice tinged with despair. “When will it stop? Who’s next?”

  He had no answers to either. At this point, he wasn’t even sure Outlaw would do anything else. He’d never been close to his sisters, but they were still his family, and he took protecting his family seriously. Their deaths had probably crippled him. He’d see it as a monumental failure on his part. There was one small difference in the psychological warfare Sharper engaged in that gave him the edge. Outlaw truly cared about his family, his club, and his brothers. Sharper cared only for himself, so every life except his was expendable.

  “What are we going to do?” she asked. “Do you think we’ve lost your father’s men? Are you sure my parents are safe? We can’t keep running.”

  “No, we can’t. That’s why we’re heading back to the club. Outlaw had the bike delivered for us to get away.”

  “Yes,” she agreed slowly, “but he might still hurt you bad.”

  Fucking right, he was due some serious injuries, but he wouldn’t tell her that. “Live or die, I’m going back.”

  “Are you sure? I-I mean…you know…you betrayed…” She scrunched her nose. “Outlaw might…he might—”

  “Fuck me up?” he finished for her.

  “Yes.”

  Digger leaned away from her, to better study her face. “Would you care?”

  “Yes.”

  He needed more than yesses and noes from her. “Why?” he asked, hoping that solved the problem of her monosyllabic answers.

  She slid to the head of the bed, and stretched her legs out, avoiding his gaze. “I don’t really know.”

  Instinct told him she couldn’t bring herself to say what was really on her mind. Every time she seemed to let her guard down and show her attraction, she pulled back.

  “Trader hasn’t been dead very long.”

  Trader had also been a fucking assfuck, but he refrained from pointing that out and patted her foot. “S’alright, Bun-Bun.”

  “It isn’t. It so isn’t. I really don’t know you. Until a few days ago, I mostly associated you with betrayal, bitterness, and violence.”

  That about summed him up. “You do know me. You met me before I left,” he quickly added when disappointment flashed in her eyes at his corroboration of her assessment.

  “You were always smiling, so very easy-going. Just like Mortician.”

  Why did everybody compare him to Mort? That galled the fuck out of him, especially having her do it. “I’m not my brother. We two different motherfuckers. Okay? I’m out of his shadow now and I’m me. Not him.”

  “But who are you?” she pressed on a whisper. “The real you? Do you know?”

  He made a mirthless sound, unwilling to tell her most of what he’d found out about himself wasn’t worth shit. “You don’t know me,” he conceded, relenting at her softening look. “I don’t really know me. I want to be the man I’ve tried to be since I let Outlaw’s son go home. But I’m not that guy, Bunny.”

  “Who are you?” she repeated, searching for an answer to some unspoken question.

  “A motherfucker who would take your pussy and not look back. That what you want to hear?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t believe you,” she came back, shocking him. “You’re not Trader. If I got pregnant with your baby, you’d never kill it by beating it out of me. Even if your intentions were to take my pussy and not look back. You wouldn’t abandon your own flesh and blood.”

  What the holy fuck was wrong with this bitch? Either she didn’t fucking know how sensitive his dick was, or she was purposely teasing him. He couldn’t even summon fear or outrage at the thought of getting her pregnant. Hearing the word pussy in her breathy voice heralded a fucking dick suck, at the least, to relieve the pressure in his balls.

  Resting his elbows on his knees, he sidled a glare at her. “You want to fucking know all about me? My name is Marcus “Digger” Banks. I’ve watched people die. I’ve killed motherfuckers. I’ve dug fucking graves for dead motherfuckers. I got rid of girls that Big Joe fucked up because he forgot his own rule that we don’t hurt women. My father is sewer scum. But I don’t have to tell you that. That, you already know.”

  “Mark!” she cried. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

  “I’m not.” A little voice said maybe he was. “I’m just telling you about me. We’ve been fucking dancing around each other for days. You want to fuck me, but you don’t like that you do. I’m helping you to decide, to put both of us out of our fucking misery. You need to know the man you’re thinking about letting in your cunt.”

  Digger didn’t know why he felt the need to tell her his life’s story. Maybe, to cleanse his mind of all the fucking dirt clogging it. He wanted to unburden himself to her. She’d listen. She had strength and courage. Compassion.

  Lying side-by-side on the bed, he told her most of what he’d already said to her, describing his time with Peyton and his ambiguity toward her.

  “Do you miss her?”

  After a few moments to consider the question, he turned on his side, happy when she did the same, allowing them to face each other. “No.” Before she could ask anything else, his stomach growled and he remembered they hadn’t eaten yet, so he called down for room service and went to the bathroom to check on his injury while they waited.

  It had bled somewhat, but he’d survive.

  He returned to the room just as Bunny opened the door for the room service delivery.

  As she stabbed pieces of spinach, orange, and chicken with her fork, Digger swallowed his bit of roast beef sandwich and resumed his story, explaining how he felt both envy and love for Mortician.

  “That’s fucked up,” he conceded when she didn’t comment, grabbing the beer he’d also ordered.

  “A lot of siblings feel that way about each other. It doesn’t mean you wouldn’t do anything in the world for each other.”

  Having no response, he chewed more of his sandwich and chased it with beer before talking about Tyler and Sharper. She didn’t comment, so he broached the final topic.

  His feelings for her.

  “I like you. You’re different.” He settled back in his seat, sudden tension rising between them. Before, things had been easy, but now she shuttered her expression and waited for him to continue. “You make me want to be different, too. For you. For my brother and my brothers.” Mostly for her.

  She studied him through her lashes. “The only time you want to change for someone is when you care deeply for them.”

  “Asking me shit again without really asking me, huh, girl?”

  “Sometimes, it’s best that way. It won’t set anyone off and I could test the waters.”

  “You talking about Trader’s dead ass, right?”

  She gave a hesitant nod, setting her fork aside carefully and pushing her salad away.

  “Bunny, girl, you been keeping my ass in line from the moment I forced you in the car. You have to know I’d never hurt you, no matter what you said to me or asked me. Or did to me. So keep doing what you’ve been doing with me. That’s why I like you so much. That’s why I want to fucking li
ve and prove to you I can be whatever the fuck you want me to be.”

  Intrigue lit her eyes and she chewed her bottom lip.

  “Are you sure? Or is this another rash decision?”

  “I have the ability to think through shit too.”

  “Do you? Just a few days ago…no, half an hour ago, you said you’d take my pussy and not look back.”

  He grunted in frustration. “Do you have to overthink every goddamn thing you do?”

  “I’d prefer to overthink than underthink.”

  “Neither way good.”

  “Maybe not,” she conceded. “My way at least allows a little caution.”

  “And my way provide excitement.”

  “But that’s the part of you that makes me hesitate to involve myself with you in any way.”

  Score for her. He’d walked right into that one. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t deny her logic. “I told you I’d change. Be whatever you want me to be.”

  “It still wouldn’t work. You can’t change for me. You have to change because you want to.”

  “The thought of you leaving didn’t sit well with me. Then, I thought it was for the best. We thought Sharper was still on the loose.”

  “Someone is.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed bleakly. “I didn’t want to see you hurt no matter who I faced. Even Outlaw. If I don’t fix shit at the club and you with me, you out too. I don’t want to lose your friendship or your company. The type of loyalty you offering to a motherfucker like me is rare. Something I want to hold on to.”

  For long moments she didn’t speak, then she nodded. “It doesn’t matter what I do to you?”

  Out of everything he’d said that was all she’d picked up on? Unease swept into him at her curious study of him and he swallowed the last of his beer. “Almost anything.”

  “Lie down on the bed for me.”

  The bed? She couldn’t fuck, so he didn’t know what the fuck she wanted him on the bed for. He had to have misunderstood. That was it. Now sure he’d misheard, he stared at her stupidly for several seconds.

  “Please get on the bed.”

  Loud and fucking clear this time. “Why?” he got out, once his brain started functioning properly again.