Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  “Hey, kid. Can I borrow my woman?”

  “Bun-Bun?”

  Digger nodded.

  “Come here, boy,” Christopher instructed, lifting his son into his arms and whispering something to him.

  “He in sugar shock, huh, Bunny?” Digger asked, shaking his head at Christopher’s son.

  “He bit through a bag of jelly bell candies, chewed half, then spit the rest out, so I’d say he is.”

  “No wonder he’s been bouncing off the walls,” Kendall whispered, for Johnnie’s ears alone.

  “No shit,” he answered, wondering Rory’s whereabouts.

  “Bunny,” Digger said, recapturing Johnnie’s attention. He took her hand in his. “When I met you, I was in a bad place. I wasn’t looking for love and didn’t think I’d ever find it. Then…then I found you.”

  “Then you fuckin’ kidnapped her, motherfucker,” Christopher called from where he sat on the sofa next to Megan.

  “Yeah, keep it real in this motherfucker,” Mortician told him.

  “Omigod, you guys, let him finish!” Megan demanded, glaring between Christopher and Mort.

  “He can now that we know the fuckin’ truth.”

  “Who didn’t know the fucking truth, Christopher?” Zoann asked. “I mean, the entire club was shot up.”

  “ANYWAY,” Digger spoke over the comments. “Don’t fucking matter how I got you in my life. I’m so happy I did.” Still holding her hand, he got down on one knee and pulled a glittering ring from his pocket.

  Megan squealed as Bunny gasped.

  “He’s proposing, Lucas,” Bailey whispered.

  “I didn’t think you had so much romance in you,” Zoann said with a smirk.

  Sighing, Digger looked at Kendall. “Say what you have to, so I can ask my woman to be mine legally.”

  “I have nothing to say,” Kendall said quietly. “But congratulations, and it’s about time you came to your senses and recognize a good woman.”

  “I couldn’t have said it better, sugar,” Roxy agreed.

  Kendall deflated and Johnnie kissed her forehead, securing his arm around her waist. While he knew Roxy’s support was important, Kendall wanted the other women to accept her. But they had to rebuild their trust. Just as the guys had to do with him. At least, they were being given the opportunity to do so.

  “Bunny,” Digger started, “will you marry me? I love you so much. You’re sweet and kind and loyal. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Have as many children as you want.”

  She laughed through her tears. The more he spoke, the more she nodded. “Yes!” she cried happily. “Yes, yes, yes.”

  “Bun-Bun cry, ‘Law,” CJ whispered loudly.

  “Them happy tears, CJ. Ain’t no need to kick his ass.”

  CJ nodded and Digger sniffed as he got to his feet and kissed Bunny. He slid the ring on her finger.

  “Time to fuckin’ toast,” Christopher announced as he put CJ down. Once drinks had been passed around, he got to his feet and dragged Megan to hers. “First, I gotta give my girl what the fuck I left to get.” He sat his bottle of tequila on a nearby table and took the jeweler’s box from the pocket of his cut.

  When she opened it and revealed a diamond ring, he wrapped his hand around it and her hand.

  “I love the fuck outta you, Megan. You got your weddin’ set and I know you ain’t takin’ that off for fuck all. But you got another hand and this ring special, too, cuz I got it engraved.”

  He allowed her to hold it up to read, “Ride or die 4ever.” He slid the ring on her right middle finger and bent to accept her kiss.

  “I love you, Christopher. I’d be lost without you.”

  She wouldn’t want to live without him. Johnnie had witnessed her devastation firsthand. She’d been as heartbroken and non-functional as Christopher had been when Megan was shot. Roxy called it graveyard love. Johnnie decided it was the eternal, once-in-a-life kind.

  Christopher held up his drink. “To my beautiful Megan, and to Bunny and Digger. Cheers, baby.” He clinked his tequila against Megan’s sparkling cider, then turned to Digger. “Congratulations, motherfucker.”

  “Thanks, Prez.”

  “I got one fuckin’ more thing before we turn the fuckin’ music back on.”

  “What, Outlaw?” Val took the bait and asked.

  “My fuckin’ poem.”

  Val nudged Zoann. “Hey, babe, wait ‘til you hear what the fuck your brother wrote.”

  “Still ain’t got the last verse, but oh-fucking-well.”

  “They’ll love it anyway,” Megan promised.

  He smirked at her. “‘Twas the night before Christmas,” he began, “when all through the club, motherfuckers were dreaming of pussy and bud.”

  “Outlaw, you a fool,” Roxy called, joining Zoann in screams of laughter.

  Their laughter was almost drowned out by Mort’s, Digger’s, and Val’s.

  “Lemme fuckin’ finish, assfucks,” he yelled, restoring enough order for him to continue. “The condoms they hung right from their dicks in hopes that the Bobs were cock-riding chicks.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Kendall groaned.

  “Megan was comfortable, all snug in our bed. My girl is a beauty and give the best head while visions of her cunt danced right the fuck in my head.”

  Megan frowned at him. “Christopher! I thought you were taking that part out.”

  “Couldn’t, baby. That’s the best fuckin’ part.” He scowled at the continued laughter. “She was fucking naked and my dick swung free as CJ screamed he had to pee.”

  “I gotta pee!” CJ hollered as if it was rehearsed, and ran off.

  “When outside my goddamn window, there arose such a fucking noise that I jumped from my bed to see what the fuck was going on.”

  “That so doesn’t rhyme,” Megan giggled.

  “Aunt Mary was kickin’ my fuckin’ ass when I wrote that part, baby. I snatched up my nine,” he went on, without missing a beat, “As I hurried to my window and threw open the motherfucker, getting a whiff of pine. The moon was fucking bright and gave off enough light when to my fucking surprise, I saw the tracks of motorcycle tires. I knew in a moment, it must be my fucking brothers planning some fucking trick to surprise a motherfucker. I whistled and screamed and called them by name: Now, Johnnie! Now, Mort! Now Val and Stretch! On Ghost! On Digger and Slipper.” As he called each of their names, he paused, held up his bottle and swigged from it. “To the top of my porch, to the top of my wall, now run the fuck away run the fuck away. Run to the fucking club.” He took another drink. “So what the fuck you think?”

  “Man, fuck, Prez, all that with no ending?” Mort said with disappointment.

  “What happened to the mistletoe?” Megan asked, frowning at him.

  Christopher smirked. “Forgot about that shit, baby.”

  Zoann’s eyes lit with mischief. “Are you sharing it with us?”

  “A mistletoe wreath my dick. I give it a stroke, a caress really fuckin’ quick. Then what to my fuckin’ happy eyes I fuckin’ find? My Megan’s sweet pussy. Fuck, it’s divine.”

  Megan groaned and his amusement deepened. He raised his bottle. “So, motherfuckers, drink to us all. Protect your bitches and keep track of your balls. If you lose them cuz your stupid…” He swigged from the bottle and scowled. “And…I don’t give a fuck. The end.”

  “Awww, fuck, Outlaw!” Digger complained. “Just when the motherfucker spicing up.”

  “Yeah, that shit still don’t rhyme,” Val told him.

  “I ain’t been able to think of the fuckin’ end, so shut the fuck up. Ain’t important anyway. What the fuck you think of what the fuck I got?”

  “I think you have to finish it, Christy, and then pass it out at the club on Christmas Day.”

  “Don’t fuckin’ count on it, Bitsy. Been workin’ on this motherfucker two years already.”

  “Maybe, you and I can finish it together?” Johnnie offered. Perhaps, they’d get close agai
n.

  “Maybe,” Christopher agreed.

  “What about this, Prez?” Mort put in, drawing everybody’s attention. “Hi ho, hi hi, and Tweedle Dee, Tweedle Dum. Santa drank a fucking bottle of rum. Then into his bitch he unloaded his cum. Nine months later, he got a little elf to hold. Next time the drunk motherfucker won’t be so bold. But they need little elf motherfuckers to do Santa’s work, at his home on the North Pole, the merriest place on earth.”

  Christopher snickered. “You got skill, motherfucker.”

  “Damn straight,” Mort said, dragging Bailey into his arms and kissing her.

  The poems and wedding proposal had put everyone in a merry mood. Happiness filled the air and infused Johnnie.

  “Let’s enjoy the fuckin’ party,” Christopher ordered. “The girls can dance while we fuckin’ communicate with Aunt Mary.”

  Sounded like a winner to him.

  Suddenly, Johnnie realized that whatever disconnect he felt from Christopher was in his own head. Christopher still regarded him the same as always—as a brother and a friend.

  “Kendall, come on, I want to show you how to do this dance,” Megan called, as the same song CJ had been dancing to came on again.

  “I’ll try,” Kendall promised, her face visibly relaxing at Megan’s invitation.

  It was as if the past few weeks had never happened and, perhaps, that was the best present of all.

  “Mommie! Mommie! Mommie!” CJ cried, pulling Christopher from an x-rated dream where Megan was upside down in his arms so he could eat her pussy while she sucked his cock. “‘Law!” A small body landed on his back. “‘Law! MegAnn! Wake up. Come see. Santa bwought evewything!”

  “What time is it?” Megan asked groggily.

  Her movement forced Christopher to open his eyes. He found her sitting up. “Get off my back, boy,” he ordered, reaching for the watch he kept on his nightstand. “Fuck me, it’s six o-fucking-clock, Megan. Go back to sleep.” He glared at CJ and sat up, just as Rebel and Rule scrambled onto the bed. “All three of you get back to your fuckin’ rooms. It’s too fuckin’ early.”

  As if the kids had a conspiracy, Ryder’s cry came through on the intercom Megan kept on her side of the bed. Although Bunny was there to look after the kids, Ryder was breastfed, so Megan had to get up for his feedings.

  “Pump your fuckin’ milk, baby, then Bunny can feed him and you can rest.”

  She yawned and got out of bed. “I’m fine.”

  “C’mon, Mommie,” Rebel encouraged, yanking on Megan’s hand.

  Diesel peeped into the room, smiling when he took in the scene. He was sixteen now and had played on the football team this season. “Merry Christmas, everybody.”

  “Dee-Sell,” CJ chimed happily, then raised a small fist. “‘Sup, ash fuck. Mewwy Chwistmas.”

  Diesel’s cheeks turned the same color as his red Christmas pajamas. He gave first Megan and then Christopher a wide-eyed look. Shaking her head, Megan started giggling at Diesel’s comical fucking expression.

  “‘Sup, CJ,” he mumbled, doing a quick fist bump since CJ hadn’t lowered his hand.

  “It’s all right, Diesel,” Megan promised. “When he’s older, I’ll make him understand the difference between nice words and offensive ones.”

  Bunny rushed into the room. Unlike Megan, who wore more Christmas pajamas, she was fully dressed. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, Meggie.”

  “I was getting Rule a cup of water and they got away from me.”

  “It’s okay, Bunny,” Megan said quickly.

  “Bring Ryder to my girl. She gotta nurse him.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry they woke you two up.”

  “Ryder began to cry a few minutes after CJ woke us up,” Megan explained. “It’s fine. After you bring Ryder to me, why don’t you check on Digger?”

  “Yeah, babe,” Christopher agreed. “He might want some Christmas Day pussy,” he said, smirking at the blush spreading across Bunny’s cheeks.

  Megan shook her head.

  “I’m used to it,” Bunny swore with an embarrassed laugh. “Be back in a flash. By the way, Merry Christmas,” she tossed over her shoulder.

  “Back atcha, babe,” Christopher responded, throwing the covers aside and getting out of bed, glad he’d put on pajama bottoms. But experience with CJ had taught him to expect his children to barge the fuck in, especially on Christmas morning.

  “Come with me to feed Ryder, kids,” Megan said, starting for the door.

  “I can bring them downstairs, Aunt Meggie,” Diesel offered.

  Since they took Diesel in as a member of the family, Christopher thought it fucking stupid to be addressed as Mr. Outlaw. The shit didn’t even fit together. Mr. Christopher was just as bad. Maybe, fucking worse. Same with Megan. The motherfucker didn’t know how to address them, so Christopher solved the problem by making Diesel their nephew.

  “Give me fifteen minutes, Diesel,” Megan said. “We can go down together.”

  “Yeah, and take fuckin’ pictures. If you bring their lil’ asses down, they’ll tear into their shit before we get there. Megan like fuckin’ holiday memories.”

  The twins were dressed in red and green pajamas that made them look like two little fucking elves.

  “Here he is,” Bunny announced, carrying in a whining Ryder. She brought him to Megan, who’d made her way to the sofa across the room.

  Without hesitation, she unbuttoned her top.

  Christopher glared at Diesel. “Turn the fuck away before I pluck your fuckin’ eyes out.”

  “Yes, sir,” he said, spinning around so quickly he must’ve gotten fucking dizzy.

  “What time’s dinner?” Bunny asked, heading for the door again.

  “Six,” Megan answered, guiding Ryder to her delicious looking tit.

  “My turn next,” he mouthed, enjoying her blush and vowing to steal her away at some point today so he could make good on his fucking promise.

  Thirty minutes later, Christopher led his family downstairs to the den, enjoying their screams and squeals as Megan put Ryder in his baby bouncer. After four fucking kids, Christopher knew all about baby shit.

  He smiled as his children dug into their big red sacks, each one bearing their names. They ignored the presents under the tree to search inside their bags.

  “I got one too?” Diesel said in awe, forgetting about being the cool sixteen-year-old and reverting back to being a kid. He ran to his sack.

  “I smell coffee,” Megan said happily. “Bunny must’ve brewed some before she headed to the club. I’ll get us both a cup.”

  Awaiting her return, Christopher snapped pictures of his joyful kids, their excitement contagious. He didn’t remember ever being so happy and carefree. He never, ever wanted his fucking kids to feel less than any-fucking-body.

  Megan held out a steaming cup of coffee to him and he set his cell phone aside, his picture taking over for the time being. Kissing his girl, he touched his mug to hers. “Merry Christmas, baby. I love you more each fuckin’ day, Megan. Don’t stop bein’ as happy as you are right now.”

  “Never, as long as I have you and the children.” She thumbed his lips. “Nothing will ever dampen my love for you,” she said, ending her statement with a deep kiss.

  And Christopher knew their special love held them together with an unbreakable bond. It had been years since he’d felt so at peace.

  Diesel ran to them and hugged first Megan and then Christopher. “Aunt Megan! Uncle Chris. Look! I have a brand new computer,” he called in awe. He also had a bunch of other shit, including a box of condoms from Christopher, but he didn’t mention that.

  “Well, Merry fuckin’ Christmas, assfuck.” Christopher slapped him on the back.

  “Thank you. I-I really like it.” His voice cracked and his eyes watered.

  Megan hugged him again. “It’s our pleasure, Diesel,” she said, smiling at him. “One more surprise for you. We have some documents for you to sign.” She made a face. “Only if you want to.�
��

  “Sign what?”

  “Fuckin’ adoption papers, Oil Change,” Christopher inserted, trying to keep the moment light so the kid wouldn’t burst out in fucking tears. “We givin’ you a choice. You can be part of my family fuckin’ legally or you can stay a permanent fuckin’ guest.”

  “B-but how? I-I mean wouldn’t you have to declare my parents dead?”

  “They fuckin’ abandoned you. They gave up all fuckin’ rights when they did that dirty shit.”

  “That’s how you did it?”

  Christopher glared at him. “Don’t fuckin’ worry ‘bout how. I got fuckin’ lawyers. I pay them motherfuckers a lot of money to get me what the fuck I want.”

  More tears filled Diesel’s eyes. Christopher knew he carried deep emotional scars from his fuckhead parents. The first woman in his life had betrayed him. Because of his mother, it would be hard for him to trust women. He wasn’t giving his old man a pass, but kids learned how to interact with the opposite sex based on how they related to their mothers and fathers.

  Try as he might, a tear slid down Diesel’s cheeks and he bowed his head.

  “Oh, Diesel, it’s okay,” Megan promised, looking as if she wanted to cry cuz tears had a fucking way of being contagious. One motherfucker boohooed and all the motherfuckers started in.

  He had to turn this shit around. “Gasoline,” he said with a straight face.

  “It’s Diesel, sir.” He backhanded a tear away. “I m-mean, Dad.”

  Christopher frowned. “I aincha fuckin’ dad cuz that mean Megan your ma. And that mean she was fuckin’ seven when she had you, and that bullshit ain’t even something I wanna think the fuck ‘bout, so she your fuckin’ Aunt Megan and my ass Uncle Chris.”

  Megan smiled at Christopher, then turned her attention back to Diesel. “You want to become a Caldwell?”

  In response, Diesel embraced Megan, not attempting to halt his flow of tears now.

  CJ yanked on Megan’s pajama top. “‘Law ashfuck, Mommie. He make Dee-Sell cry.”

  “CJ!” Christopher snapped.