Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  Just as he got to the warehouse, Digger texted him the address of the hotel. He and Val hopped in a taxi and gave the address Digger sent to the driver. When the vehicle halted in front of the lodgings, Christopher frowned. It was a big hotel with pretty landscape, valet parking, and an elegant lobby, already decorated for Christmas.

  He couldn’t escape the holidays and how he’d interrupted his for this.

  He headed to the room number also included in Digger’s text.

  “You don’t have to stop to pick up a key?” Val asked, hot on his heels.

  “Digger said come straight the fuck to the room.”

  When Digger opened the door, the scent of food hit Christopher and his stomach growled. In the corner, toward the sliding balcony door was covered dishes, plates, and utensils. It registered in Christopher’s brain that he stood in a living room, not an ordinary hotel room. Glancing around, he saw several doors, one of which was closed.

  “Kendall sleeping,” Digger told him.

  “You got a fucking suite?” Val asked, his eyes widening.

  That was exactly what the fuck the motherfucker had done.

  “You ain’t likin’ that bitch too much, huh? You fuckin’ know if I see her I’m fuckin’ her up.”

  “I didn’t get it. This room belong to Cash, but I thought it was better for us. It would make Kendall more comfortable. Me and Val could always stay here but you our Prez, so I thought you should have the best.”

  “Cash knew she was comin’?” Christopher asked for clarification.

  “No, Prez,” Digger answered.

  “Don’t make no fuckin’ sense why he got a fuckin’ suite. We ain’t here to fuckin’ party. It don’t matter where my ass be. Kendall still too fuckin’ close.”

  “Prez, just hear me out.”

  “Ain’t nothin’ to fuckin’ hear, Digger,” Christopher snapped. He wasn’t going to change his opinion about her and Digger seemed determined to protect her. “Where the fuck I’m sleepin’?”

  Digger pointed to the door on the left side of the room. “Me or Val out here.”

  “All I see is one couch,” Val said, frowning.

  “I figure we can flip a coin to see who get it,” Digger explained. “Whoever lose go to the other room.”

  Scowling, Val turned on his heel and stomped to the door. “Take the fucking couch. I’m going have a goddamn drink and then taking the single room to stay away from Kendall’s bullshit.”

  Val slammed out of the room and Christopher glared at Digger. “I’ma hit up Megan, then eat, and get the fuck to bed. If you let that bitch cross my fuckin’ path, her death gonna be on you, motherfucker.”

  Cash McCall tapped his glass on the bar of the hole in the wall he sat in, annoyed that his contact was taking so fucking long to arrive and tell him about McCallister.

  Before Cash approached Outlaw with the information he’d gathered over the past two hours, he wanted one hundred percent assurance of its accuracy. He couldn’t risk going to Outlaw with half-assed recon, in light of the man’s discovery that Cash had fucked Ophelia.

  Since then, he’d done his best to stay away from Outlaw’s youngest sister. Somehow, he kept drawing her into his world. The one he held onto with Woo Woo Boy. Or Stretch as he preferred to be called.

  Until his near fatal beating, Stretch had carried a certain innocence about him that appealed to Cash. For him, sex had always been about pleasure and he’d never particularly cared if he got it from a man or a woman. After all, he hadn’t been in it for love because he never thought he’d fall in love.

  Then, something strange had happened. Cash had begun to fall for Stretch, so he’d put the brakes on their relationship. Easy enough with Stretch’s boyfriend, Hanson, still alive. Although Stretch had been hurt, he’d backed off from Cash.

  Now, though…No buffer existed for Stretch. It was only him and his simmering anger with emotional scars as bad as the physical reminders.

  Amidst their private hell, Cash had met Ophelia.

  The day of the club shooting she’d come to help. Their meeting had been nothing special. No violins had gone off. Cupids hadn’t flown around aiming arrows of love.

  Due to circumstances, they’d been thrown together a lot. The murders of her sisters and nieces had changed everything. Everyone had had someone to lean on in their grief. Except Ophelia.

  Cash had taken her to his house, not intending to fuck her. She’d been so fucking heartbroken, though. One hug had led to one kiss…

  That kiss…Jesus, that fucking kiss. He’d heard violins then and felt the pricks of a thousand arrows. That sweet, life-changing fucking kiss had led to lovemaking, the first time in Cash’s life that he’d ever considered fucking as “making love.”

  He’d fucked. He’d sucked. He’d stuck. But it had taken Ophelia’s vulnerability to bring out Cash’s tender side. A few days later, he’d tried the same with Stretch and had reached the side of him that violence had extinguished.

  As usually happened, relationships became entangled. Blurred. Complicated. And Cash didn’t do fucking complicated.

  To counteract all the emotions spreading like wildfire between Cash and Ophelia, and Cash and Stretch, he’d done what he thought best—introduced them to one another. His sole purpose had been getting them out of his system by turning what they shared privately into nothing but a tryst. A threesome.

  How many threesomes had he had in his lifetime? Too many to fucking count. This time was different. As the common denominator in both relationships, he’d miscalculated. He hadn’t pushed them away. He’d drawn them closer. For the first time in his adult life, he’d felt complete with both of them in his bed at once.

  He hadn’t known his own intentions. He’d just felt. Then, one evening, Outlaw had taken one look at Cash and Ophelia together. One look. To know they were having an affair.

  One. Fucking. Look.

  In the months since, Cash made himself scarce. Whenever he was in town, he didn’t stay away from Ophelia. However, he valued both his cock and his life. Outlaw would torture and kill him and Stretch if he discovered his orders had been ignored.

  A chill traveled through Cash as a voice cleared his throat.

  Cash turned toward the sound and faced Hill Top, a mountainous motherfucker with a black bandanna and a wild beard.

  “Talk,” he ordered, not interested in shooting the shit.

  Hill Top sighed. “McCallister’s dead,” he confirmed, scratching his beard. “Word is the Scorpions used him to lure Outlaw.”

  Fuck.

  “You’re not planning anything, are you, baby? I mean I ain’t wantin’ you even at the leftover fuckin’ dinner the day after Thanksgiving if I ain’t there.”

  Christopher didn’t want Megan at Thanksgiving dinner, but demanding she stay away would be a lot to ask of her. Hopefully, that wouldn’t be an issue. If he got rid of the weapons tomorrow morning, he’d been on the plane in the afternoon.

  Sloane promised he’d send the jet back on short notice. He knew how important it was that Christopher be back with Megan as soon as possible.

  “Do you think you’ll be home?” she asked, attempting to sound like she didn’t give a fuck.

  “My ass should be. I’m thinkin’ I ain’t gonna be but another day or two at the fuckin’ most. I’ll be there to fuckin’ carry you to the club for Thanksgiving and then carry you around the mall for Black Friday.”

  She giggled. “You can’t carry me through a shopping mall, Christopher.”

  “If I ain’t carryin’ you, you ain’t goin’.”

  “Why don’t we see how I feel?”

  “Ain’t matterin’. Doc Will said bed-fuckin-rest. That mean stay your ass in bed, Megan. That also mean if you ain’t in bed, you need to be fuckin’ carried.”

  “I’m fine,” she swore, although Christopher didn’t believe her.

  “As for the leftover dinner, I don’t have to go. I’ll be fine here for a couple of hours by myself. The kids will
enjoy being with you.”

  He’d showered and eaten and was ready for sleep, but he’d needed to hear Megan’s voice first before he crashed earlier than he ever fucking had. It wasn’t eight o-fucking-clock yet. Instead of continuing with this conversation, he changed the subject.

  “Tell me exactly what the fuck going on with Ryder, baby?” he asked, wanting to know and seizing the opportunity when her defenses were done and she sounded so sad and alone. She tried to mask it but couldn’t fool Christopher.

  “I’m in labor. Kind of,” she added quickly. “It’s preterm and I’m only dilated at one centimeter, so…”

  “Megan, shut the fuck up,” he told her, sounding angrier than he meant to. “You in fuckin’ labor?” And he wasn’t fucking there?

  “I’m taking medicine to stop the contractions. As long as I follow Dr. Will’s orders and stay in bed, I’ll be fine.”

  “Yeah? What the fuck else you gotta do?”

  “Not much,” she hedged.

  “Megan,” he growled in warning.

  “Fine! No sex. No heavy lifting. No stress. She wants me to get to thirty-seven weeks.”

  Christopher let Megan’s words sink in and he thought of Kendall in the next room. They were all there because of that bitch, while Megan was facing a medical crisis alone.

  “Why you ain’t told me, baby?” he asked, to prevent himself from grabbing his nine and putting a hole in Kendall’s head.

  “Because it wouldn’t change what you needed to do, Christopher,” Megan said softly. “I’m fine. I promise. Just come back home to me as soon as you can.”

  “You know my ass gonna be there. I’ll be fuckin’ home before you know it, baby. Then we can get back to our happy fucking holidays.” He shifted his phone to his other ear and placed an arm behind his head. “Lemme ask you. Doc Will knew this shit when I was in her fuckin’ office?”

  “No. She read through Howerton’s notes…”

  “Howerton!” Christopher snarled. “That motherfucker let you walk the fuck ‘round knowin’ you and our kid was in fuckin’ danger.”

  Megan fell silent and then she whispered, “Please, don’t hurt him.”

  Well, fuck. That statement was putting him in a fucked up position. She’d be on the lookout for that motherfucker to turn up missing, which meant Christopher had to get creative to fuck him up. Cuz fuck him up he fucking would. “You got it, baby. I ain’t gonna fuck him up.” Yet.

  “Thank you.” The quick fade out of Megan’s voice indicated another call.

  “Hold on, baby.” Seeing Cash’s name, Christopher decided to call the motherfucker back. Getting McCallister’s address wasn’t as important as talking to his girl. “Back.”

  “You sound so tired.”

  “I’m fuckin’ exhausted,” he admitted.

  “Me, too. I haven’t slept much today.”

  Yeah, because Val and Digger had been fucking calling her since four o’clock this morning to fucking save Kendall’s life. And now…now he had the perfect opportunity to fuck her up. Digger left to buy something for Bunny, and Stretch tagged along. Cash was across fucking town at a bar and promised to get McCallister’s address in case the motherfucker skipped out on them tomorrow. They had the fucking money, but if Christopher had to interrupt his holidays, then that motherfucker had to do the same.

  “Megan, rest. My ass fine. I’ma call you in the mornin’ before I get with McCallister.”

  “I understand if you can’t.”

  There were very rare occasions when he went on runs that shit was too fucking crazy for him to stop and call. But those times were few and far in be-fucking-tween and hadn’t happened since he’d discovered she was pregnant with Rule and Rebel.

  “I’ma call you,” he promised. “Okay?”

  “Are you upset?”

  He was fucking furious at Kendall, Howerton, and McCallister, but he wouldn’t take out his bad mood on her. “Kinda, but I’ll fuckin’ survive.”

  She cleared her throat. “Will whoever you’re upset with live?”

  Chances weren’t looking too fucking good…except with that bitch, the one he wanted to fuck up more than McCallister and Howerton combined.

  “The no-sex rule will be really tough,” she said to change the subject.

  No fucking shit. Megan liked fucking as much as he did. “Your pussy’ll be fine. Instead of fuckin’, I’ll fuckin’ lick it.”

  “I can’t have any type of sex because an orgasm might be too much.”

  Now, he was really in a fucked up mood. The thought of not being able to sink into Megan or taste her or sniff her pissed him the fuck off.

  “I went online today to read about doing you without penetration,” she said after a moment.

  “Doing me, huh, baby?” he snickered, enjoying her version of dirty phone sex. “What the fuck you found out?”

  “After your shower, I’ll massage your shoulders and work my way around to your chest and gently guide you back.”

  “Gently? Ain’t no need for gentleness with my ass,” he told her, repositioning the way he lay and shoving a hand in his pajama bottoms to stroke his hard cock. “What you gonna do next?”

  “Suck on each of your testicles.”

  His breath hitching at the thought of her mouth on him, he frowned at the ceiling. “You suck my nuts.”

  “Yes and stroke your p…cock,” she amended quickly.

  Not that it fucking mattered. Christopher was enjoying the images playing in his head to the sound of her voice. He squeezed and pulled his dick.

  “As I start to fondle your nuts, I’ll lick the underside of your cock until I get to the head.”

  Closing his eyes at the pleasure racing through him, Christopher grunted, close to coming. “Then what the fuck you do, baby?”

  “Lick the semen seeping from the tip and then wrap my lips around the crown and suck you until you come.”

  He groaned at the thought, wishing she was in bed with him, needing to have her small hand around his cock helping to jerk him off.

  “I want you to fuck my mouth, Christopher,” she breathed, her explicitness shocking the fuck out of him and drawing his cum from the bottom of his balls and shooting into the air, landing on his hand and his stomach.

  “Wicked little bitch,” he murmured.

  “Big bad biker,” she retorted, giggling.

  Sitting up, he trapped the phone between his shoulder and cheek, then wiped the cum from his hand and stomach with the top sheet.

  “Rest, baby.”

  “You, too, Christopher.”

  They hung up and Christopher realized it was the first time in a while that neither of them had professed their love for one another while he was away. Yeah, they said it every-fucking-day, but most especially when he was on runs.

  He poised his finger to call her back, but a noise interrupted him. Jumping out of bed, he hurried to where his jeans lay over the back of a chair and pulled them on, ignoring his nine on the nightstand. He hoped like fuck it was Digger returning and not Kendall trying to talk to him.

  His door burst open and three strange motherfuckers rushed him. One of them aimed a sawed-off shotgun at his head.

  “You’re walking out of here like nothing’s wrong. Any funny business and you’re a dead man.”

  Without his nine and with the element of surprise on their side, Christopher had no choice but to comply.

  “Kiss my motherfuckin’ ass.”

  Those words, followed by sounds of a scuffle, awakened Kendall from a light sleep. She’d been dreaming of Johnnie and their children. Matilda was already born and Kendall was pregnant with their third child, twins like Meggie had. And just like Meggie, Kendall was having a boy and a girl. They’d have regal names—Leopold and Eleanor, unlike Rule and Rebel. Johnnie had been the club president and he’d forced Outlaw out in disgrace.

  “Fuck you!” Outlaw’s voice traveled through Kendall’s door and she realized it was that horrid sound that had awakened her in the fi
rst place.

  “If you don’t start fucking walking, I’m going to fucking shoot and don’t give a fuck where it land. Your head. Your heart. Your legs. Maybe, all of the above.”

  An unknown man snarled those words.

  Shrinking beneath the covers, Kendall trembled. They were under attack. Dear God, of all the scenarios she’d anticipated, she never considered the danger.

  “You’re stalling. Who else’s is here in this suite?”

  “Get him to the van while I help to search the place,” another, equally unknown man ordered.

  By the authority in his words, Kendall knew he was the leader.

  “Maybe, we should just shoot him and then search the place.”

  “That’s not the orders, Frank,” the second man Kendall had heard barked. “Kill him only if he don’t cooperate. Otherwise, we take him alive.”

  “You disappoint me, Caldwell,” Frank taunted. “No fighting your way through. So much for the legendary madman.”

  A snort. The asshole actually snorted.

  Fucking coward.

  “I might be a motherfuckin’ madman, but I ain’t a stupid one. What the fuck can I do with a fuckin’ sawed off pointed the fuck at me? Put that motherfucker down and see how fuckin’ mad my ass be.”

  “No. Rush me now. Ignore the shotgun. Come at me, you fucking pussy.”

  “Fuck you. It ain’t workin’. So you either take my ass, search this motherfucker, or stand here all fuckin’ night wastin’ your fuckin’ breath. Difference between you and me, I ain’t wastin’ my fuckin’ breath tauntin’ no motherfucker who got a fuckin’ brain. I intend to stay the fuck alive to fuck you up, so say what the fuck you wanna ‘bout me.”

  “We’ll see how tough you are when Charles gets you.”

  “Get him out of here. We need to get a move on.”

  “Walk.”

  “What the fuck ever, assfuck,” Outlaw said, his voice fading from right beyond the door.

  He was going to leave her to defend herself. The asshole knew she was in this room, but he probably saw this as the answer to his prayers. Her murder without actually committing it. Who knew? Maybe, this was some elaborate scheme to kill her, so he could look Johnnie in the eyes and say he hadn’t killed Kendall himself.