Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  Kendall fell silent and then, “I-I have another question.”

  “Sure, Kendall,” Knox said, pitying her miserable voice.

  “Brooks and Charlotte are involved in Avalon’s plans?”

  “Neither Brooks or Charlotte thought of this. Brooks still doesn’t know. Charlotte, however, is on board. Avalon presented the idea to her. I must say she did resist at first because of you. She said if anything happened to the wretched Johnnie, you’d be heartbroken.” Her resistance had lasted all of ten minutes but Knox didn’t need to tell Kendall how easily Charlotte had been swayed.

  “I-I s-see. You’re saying even though Charlotte ended up agreeing, this wasn’t her idea and Brooks still knows nothing about this?”

  “Yes,” he said impatiently, wondering why she kept harping on this. It wasn’t important. “Now, please address the women and children the club sells.”

  “I take it you mean as sex slaves?”

  “That was the implication,” Knox snapped. “No one ever came out right and said it.”

  Kendall bowed her head.

  “Listen, Kendall. I know this is hard for you. Start wherever you’d like. Tell me when and where Outlaw propositioned you if that’s easiest then get into the heavier stuff. The sex trade and the murder of Kyler.”

  Nodding, Kendall cleared her throat. “The proposition happened in Hawaii,” she said quietly. “He’d come to pick me up because Johnnie couldn’t make the trip himself.”

  Outraged on behalf of Kendall, Knox tightened his lips. “Go on.”

  “I told him…” She released a sob and covered her face. Her phone beeped. Swiping at her tears, she glanced down to where the device lay in front of her. “Johnnie’s on the way, so I have to be quick.” She straightened. “I told Christopher that we should sleep together since Johnnie had once been in love with Meggie.”

  “What did he say…” The words registered in Knox’s head and his mouth fell open. “What did you just say?”

  Kendall straightened and narrowed her eyes. She had been crying but the streaks on her cheeks were the only remnants. Her eyes were now dry. “Charlotte’s a liar. I propositioned Christopher, and she knows it. His hatred of me has nothing to do with me spurning him, asshole. Furthermore, why would a man who tracks women to protect them, be involved in selling them? He is barbaric and the biggest asshole on earth. I despise him, but he isn’t into sex slavery. He doesn’t peddle children or women. You’re a stupid fucker. If you truly were a police officer, you must’ve been shitty. You took the word of a woman who hates not only Outlaw, but my husband and the entire club, instead of investigating all sides. As for your uncle, Avalon is one of the worst assholes on earth. He’d be more inclined to involve himself in the sex trade, then any of the men in this club.” She snatched her phone and held it up.

  A sinking feeling hit Knox.

  “Now, asshole, unless you stop this bullshit that’ll send my husband away for life, I’m taking my recording to Outlaw and Roxy. I wonder who’d fuck you up worse. My loathing Outlaw can’t touch how much I hate you. You’re here to send my husband to jail. Away from me and our kids. At least, Christopher lifts Johnnie up. He’d protect him with everything in him, so fuck you, Knox. Believe whatever you will, but remember this. I’m the last woman you want to double-cross.”

  “Kendall…” Knox started, his pride stinging, as the door opened.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” Johnnie started, walking up to the bar. He frowned at Knox. “What are you doing here?”

  Knox couldn’t talk. He could barely think, unsure if he was more concerned that Outlaw would get that recording or Roxy. He’d hurt her enough. If Kendall played that for her, that would seal Knox’s fate.

  “Nothing, my love,” Kendall cooed with a vicious smile. “Knox and I were just trading stories about the asshole.”

  “Kendall…” Johnnie started in warning.

  Walking around the bar, Kendall hugged Johnnie before kissing his lips. “Sorry,” she said, not sounding sorry at all. “Force of habit. Knox was keeping me company until you arrived, but he was just leaving since Brooks isn’t here.”

  “Okay. Let’s head out then.” Johnnie looked at Knox. “Christopher and CJ are outside, talking to Potter and two Probates.”

  Kendall smiled. “The asshole is probably watching our every move,” she said with a long-suffering sigh. “Cameras are everywhere, all linked to his phone.”

  Meaning Outlaw had set him up.

  “Oh, uh…” If the cameras had sound, then Knox was in so much trouble. “Conversations are recorded, too?”

  “No,” Johnnie responded.

  “Yeah, more’s the pity. You never know when a rat will be in the midst. Of course, Outlaw’s too ignorant to take my advice. Who am I but a woman with a law degree?”

  “That’s enough, Kendall!” Johnnie snapped. “I mean it.”

  Kendall shrugged and she poked out her lower lip. “If you say so.”

  Johnnie glared at her.

  Sniffling, Kendall grabbed Johnnie’s hand and headed to the door.

  Knox could only watch her go. She was a formidable woman, one he’d sorely underestimated. However, she’d brought up a very good point, the same one Roxy had made.

  He needed to investigate all sides. He needed to use his own instincts.

  From what he saw, what he felt, Outlaw was fair and honorable. None of what Charlotte claimed him to be. He should’ve listened to Roxy. Maybe, if he had, he’d still have her.

  Chapter Thirty

  “Mama, what should I add?” Carissa, Roxy’s second to youngest asked, early Thanksgiving morning. They were stuffing bell peppers, tasting as they went along. It seemed as if Alexia thought something might be missing. She held up the spoon. “Taste it.”

  Doing as Carissa asked, Roxy let her daughter shove the spoon in her mouth. “Fuck, sugar. You’re missing taste. Add a little salt, pepper, and garlic powder to the ground meat.”

  Satisfied that Carissa would follow her advice, Roxy turned to Alexia, the daughter closest in age to Bailey. Her blonde braids were in stark contrast to her dark skin. The child didn’t look good with that hair, but a hard head made a fucked-up appearance. She was twenty-two, living on her own, and determined to make a fashion statement. She held up a pepper and frowned at the lopsided cut. One half was much bigger than the other.

  “Pay attention, child,” Roxy ordered. “Rissa need halved peppers not pieces.”

  “It’s hard to do with my nails,” Alexia complained, holding up her hands and pointing to the gold and maroon talons that were passing as fingernails.

  Tightening the belt on her robe, Roxy rolled her eyes. “How about I yank those motherfuckers off so you can cook, then find some Crazy Glue to stick them back on.”

  “Not funny, Roxanne,” Alexia said with a sniff. “You can yank my nails off, when you let me dye those gray hairs out of your head.”

  “Girl, shut up,” Carissa said quickly, got up and kissed Roxy’s cheek. “That just shows Mama’s wisdom.”

  “That just show’s Mama’s age,” Alexia retorted. “Roxanne is too young looking to have it marred by gray hair.”

  Roxy sighed and grabbed her coffee, sipping from it. “Leave it to my daughters to make me feel special.”

  “Mama, we want to get you a man,” Alexia said. “What man wants a woman with gray hair?”

  “Says the superficial wench with air in her head instead of brains,” Carissa shot back.

  Alexia flipped Carissa off.

  “All right, girls, enough!” Roxy ordered.

  “What’s cooking in here?” Pearllene asked, slowly making her way into the kitchen with the aid of a cane.

  Roxy set her cup aside and hurried to her mother. “Mama, I thought you were asleep. You need to get some rest.”

  “Do you know how old I am, girl? I’ll be sleeping soon enough in an eternal rest. While I’m still alive, I want to live.”

  “Mama, you’ve been dying since I was
about twelve years old. Every month, it’s something different.”

  Pearllene sniffed and got to the stool at the counter, sitting in it and wincing. “Lord, Jesus, I’m so stiff. Get me some grease. Let me oil my bones.”

  “You want coffee?” Roxy asked, not responding to her mother’s request.

  “Yes, ma’am, and pour some Irish crème into it for me.”

  “MeMe, it’s too early for you to start drinking,” Carissa said with a grin, getting the Bailey’s Irish Crème from the cupboard and pouring some into the mug of coffee in front of Pearllene.

  “What’s this I hear about a new man in your life, Roxanne?” Pearllene said after she’d taken a few sips of her liquored coffee.

  “Bailey has a big mouth,” Roxy complained and turned toward the sink so her mother or daughters wouldn’t see how upset the thought of Knox still made her. “There’s nothing to hear. We went out a few times and called it a day.”

  “Ohhhhh, Mammmaaa,” Carissa said in a sing song voice. “Getting your groove on.”

  “Girl, shut up,” Roxy snapped, embarrassment heating her cheeks.

  Alexia bit into a bell pepper and crunched her way through. “Did you remember to practice safe sex? Please say he used a condom.”

  Whirling, Roxy narrowed her eyes. “I’m about to say I used my foot to stick it up your ass, nosy wench.” She raised her chin and looked at her mother. “Bailey should’ve told you talking about that motherfucker to me is off limits. Fuck him. It’s over.”

  Alexia grabbed another spoon, dug into the stuffing and then shoved it into her mouth. She tossed her braids over her shoulders. “I’ve heard that before.”

  Carissa thumped the side of Alexia’s head. “Shut up.” She turned to Roxy. “What happened, Mama? Maybe, I can give you some advice.”

  “Oh, please,” Alexia said. “You? You’ve only been with two dudes in your entire life and you want to offer advice?” She snorted. “Please.”

  “My legs aren’t like a Jack in the box. Every time some guy winds me up, they pop open.”

  Roxy clapped her hands. “Enough! Stop insulting each other.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Alexia said, lowering her lashes. “I can’t help it if Rissa has the social life of a nun. No, nuns have more of a social life.”

  “Yeah, Mama.” Carissa glared at Alexia. “I can’t help it if Alexia’s bed gets as much action as a Bourbon street ho’s. No, a ho’s bed has less action.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  Roxy looked toward the sound of Duke’s voice. Whatever chastisement she’d intended to dish out to her daughters fled at the sight of her son, standing there holding a brown bag.

  “This is my surprise, boy,” Pearllene said with pride. “Your momma’s in town.”

  “So you didn’t need the rolls, MeMe?” he asked, sweeping his gaze over Roxy.

  Suddenly self-conscious, she smoothed her hair down. If she’d known Duke was coming over so early, she would’ve put on a wig. As far as she knew, he was supposed to stop in later that day to tell his sisters and grandmother Happy Thanksgiving.

  Setting the bag on the table near Alexia, Duke brushed past Roxy and went to Pearllene, who frowned at him.

  “Can we talk, Duke?” Roxy tried not to be hurt by his attitude. She’d hoped once he saw her he’d come to his senses. “You and me?”

  “MeMe, I won’t be coming back today,” Duke said as if Roxy hadn’t spoken. He kissed her cheek. “So Happy Thanksgiving.”

  “Hey, asshole,” Alexia said sharply. “Mama asked you a question.”

  Duke turned and lifted a brow, every bit as imperious as his father had always been. “She’s the woman who gave birth to me. She isn’t my momma. My momma isn’t an ignorant fool who’s most creative moment was naming her children with A, B, C, and D names. She even screwed that up and named the eldest with a B name.”

  “Rissa, I think this little motherfucker need some sisterly justice.” Alexia got to her feet. “What do you say?”

  “I say, you’re right, sibling. MeMe, call the police and the ambulance because it’s about to be on. His ass going in the ambulance and our asses going in the cruiser for fucking him up.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Duke said warily, inching toward the door.

  “Of course they wouldn’t, boy,” Pearllene soothed, standing and reaching for her cane. She crept toward him. “They’re not ruining my kitchen with all that foolishness. You got a right to feel however you want.”

  Smiling, Duke turned to Pearllene, who pulled him into her arms before grabbing his ear and twisting, then taking her cane and delivering a few blows on his back, arms, and legs.

  “What’s your goddamn problem, boy. I’ll beat your ass up and down this house if you go at my baby like that. Go back to that good-for-nothing motherfucker you got for a father and his uppity bitch. Bring your ass around here with your bullshit and you’ll be leaving in a goddamn hearse. Now, get the fuck out of here.” Using the bottom of her cane, she jabbed him in the ass with it, making him stumble forward before righting the wooden stick with a crawfish as the handle. “Girls, stuff these peppers. Roxanne, you come with me. Duke, get the fuck out.”

  Swiping at tears and his bleeding lip, Duke tripped out of the kitchen without another word. Roxy didn’t move, until Pearllene opened her arms.

  “Oh, Mama,” she sobbed and went into her mother’s embrace, finding the solace and refuge she needed.

  “John Boy, your bitch ass should do the fucking cooking, since your bitch ass accepted Red challenge,” Mortician complained, glaring at Johnnie as they stood in the big kitchen at the clubhouse, staring at five raw turkeys, two hams, and a bunch of other shit that Christopher didn’t know what the fuck to do with.

  Val stared at the big table with all the food. “The Bobs always helped K-P. Call those bitches in to help us.”

  “You the fuck outta your mind?” Christopher snapped, going to one end of the table and gazing at the uncooked food like a lost bitch. He and Megan had a fucking bet riding on this. If he lost, he was having a month-long pussy lockout. If he won, he got to continue fucking his girl as usual. “We get them bitches here and Megan’ll lock up her pussy for the next fucking year.”

  “Fuck, Outlaw, couldn’t you have eaten her pussy a little more so she could desert the girls and help us?” Val asked.

  Christopher snapped his brows together at the question and started for Val.

  “Wait!” Johnnie called, stepping in front of Christopher. “We need all hands on deck. Don’t fuck him up.”

  If he hadn’t been so fucking annoyed, he might’ve laughed his fucking ass off at Johnnie’s chef’s hat, rubber gloves and the butcher’s apron he had tied around him, under his cut.

  “Fuck, I’m willing to eat Bailey whole ass if she get the fuck over here,” Mort said.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Johnnie ordered. “We always fry the turkeys.”

  “Fuck off, John Boy.” Digger chewed on a cherry tomato. “Frying fucking turkeys and cooking a whole fucking meal completely different. I offered Bunny a bunch of fucking money to desert. Nothing. She wouldn’t even give me one fucking recipe.”

  “Kendall thought this would motivate the girls to help her,” Johnnie explained.

  Val put distance between him and Christopher on the fucking sly. “Your bitch ever heard of just fucking asking?”

  Like Christopher didn’t see his ass tipping to the side little-by-little.

  “Yeah, son, Red got to stop with all these fucking games,” Mortician said, picking up a potato. “Bailey, Meggie, Chester, and Bunny would’ve been happy to help her.”

  “Fuck off,” Christopher said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. “That ain’t why that bitch did that.”

  “Put that out, Christopher!” Johnnie demanded. “You’ll get fucking ashes all over the fucking food. And what do you mean? Why would Kendall do this if not for motivation?”

  “Cuz if she said she wanted to fuckin’ cook a
nd asked the girls for fuckin’ help, then she woulda been stuck cookin’ for the whole fuckin’ club. More fuckin’ work, so she roped your dumb fuckin’ ass in to a fuckin’ competition.” Of all the fucking things. “Next thing I fuckin’ know, Megan tellin’ me I’m fuckin’ cookin’ with you motherfuckers and she cookin’ with them for two separate dinners.”

  “You didn’t have to agree,” Johnnie said tightly. “You could’ve been over there with them and left us to figure this out.”

  “No the fuck I couldna. I ain’t got a cunt. That mean I gotta be here with you motherfuckers.”

  “Yeah, Johnnie,” Val started, lighting his own cigarette, “by fucking right you should be with the women since Kendall deballed you and dedicked you.”

  Johnnie snatched a butcher knife. “Keep it up and I’m going to dehead you.”

  “You made a good point,” Val said, unfazed by Johnnie’s threat. “Why the fuck it’s de for most things when you’re taking away shit and be for giving it, except for behead. It should be dehead, right? Behead seem to mean you getting a head added to you.”

  “And you motherfuckers worry about my fuckin’ kid and the way he fuckin’ talk?” Christopher asked with sarcasm. “When this motherfucker fuckin’ up Ryan and Devon heads with stupid fuckin’ shit like that.”

  “Look, behead, dehead, rehead, don’t make a fucking difference,” Mortician pointed out, going to the refrigerator and grabbing a bottle of orange colored vodka.

  “How the fuck you get Megan to make you Skittle Vodka, motherfucker?” Christopher growled. “She ain’t even cooked my fuckin’ ass breakfast.”

  “I asked her real nice, Prez, and promised her I’d help you.” Mort shrugged and drank from the bottle. “Just didn’t tell Meggie girl my ass don’t have a clue how the fuck to cook.”

  “So you fuckin’ played my girl?”

  Mort stilled, then gulped and shook his head. “Now, Prez. I wouldn’t do that.”

  “Fuck, would you motherfuckers leave this basket case motherfucker alone?” Johnnie demanded. “We need all of us in one piece without any crushed bones.”