Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  Christopher had no doubt his sister punished Ryan for teasing Rule. His concern, however, was his son. He never wanted any of his children to feel unworthy or undervalued.

  He got to his feet. “Rule, come here, son.”

  “Why are you crying?” Megan asked Rule, walking back into the kitchen.

  “Ain’t nothin’ I can’t handle, baby,” Christopher assured her.

  She nodded. “Dinner’s on the table,” she announced.

  Christopher noticed all the dishes filled with food were gone. While he’d been communicating with his children, she’d laid out their meal.

  “Me and Rule comin’, baby. I need to talk to my boy.”

  Once she ushered their other children out, Christopher lifted Rule and sat him on one of the island stools, then slid in next to him. Rule kept his head down.

  “Son, if you like to draw, don’t let no motherfucker stop you.” What he had to say was too important to keep correcting his words. He’d take for-fucking-ever.

  “But you don’t love me cuz I’m a girl with a weenie.”

  “You got a cock. That make you a fuckin’ boy.” Christopher paused. “You wanna be a boy, yeah?”

  Rule’s little face scrunched up, then he nodded.

  “Even if you fuckin’ didn’t and wanted your cock chopped the fuck off one day, no motherfucker in this world got the right to put you down. Don’t ever let a motherfucker tell you I ain’t gonna love you. Ain’t nothin’ you can fuckin’ do ever make me turn away from you. Under-fuckin-stand?”

  “Yes, Dad.”

  Rule still didn’t seem convinced, so Christopher dug inside his cut, and came up with a folded piece of paper. He opened it and smiled at Rule’s work, the stick figure family he’d drawn with crayons. There was a woman with yellow hair, as well as a little girl and two boys. Christopher knew they were boys because they didn’t have much hair, where as the girls had scribbled hair that almost reached the ground. The other stick figures had a man with black hair and three boys with the same. One boy was taller than the other two and Christopher knew that represented Diesel, his and Megan’s adopted son.

  Rule had given Christopher the drawing—his idea of how he saw their family—and Christopher kept it with him always. To him, his wife and kids were perfect. Everything he needed, so to see the smiles Rule drew reinforced that idea.

  He laid the drawing in front of Rule. “Ain’t ever outta my fuckin’ pocket, son,” he said. “If you ain’t ever playin’ with a bike or ridin’ one, I don’t give a fuck. As long as you happy, my ass happy.”

  Rule nodded and offered him a small smile.

  Christopher took the drawing, folded it carefully, and placed it back into his pocket, then lifted Rule into his arms. “You hungry?”

  “Yes.”

  “My ass is, too, so let’s go see what the fuck your ma and Bunny cooked.”

  JOHNNIE RELEASED CIGARETTE SMOKE THROUGH his nostrils, then lifted his glass of whiskey and drank deeply. He wasn’t sure what was the matter with him, but his nausea worsened the dizziness and pain swirling in his head. For a week now, he’d been walking around as if fog clogged his brain. Unlike the first day, when he seemed to be getting better, he seemed to be getting worse now.

  Although there was a first time for everything, he couldn’t believe he was getting the flu.

  Maybe, Johnnie was suffering from stress.

  He had no damn clue what the problem was, except, maybe, stress? The latest pressures from his wife to allow her to take Randolph’s case without Christopher’s knowledge had him half mad, even if he understood her point-of-view.

  Kendall valued her career so much because she still found so little value in herself. His gorgeous woman was learning that he loved her come what may. In her, he saw a fighter. She’d had a lot of demons to overcome—she still did—but she steadily pushed forward. Sooner or later, Kendall would see the same value in herself that he saw in her.

  In the meantime, she pushed him to greenlight her idea. The legal profession was her passion. Kendall stuck her nose in places it didn’t belong, simply because she felt as if her degree gave her an advantage. All her attitude did—as well as her refusal to stay out of club business—was complicate his life.

  Now, she was angry with him. They crowded next to each other in a booth, where they were meeting with Randolph, in a diner on the south side of Portland. Further proof that Kendall had finally driven him over the edge. Meeting with a member of a rival club would be seen as a betrayal against the Dwellers. Worse, Christopher would take it as personal treachery since they were more than mere club brothers, but blood ones, too.

  Johnnie couldn’t seem to stop himself. As his nausea and headaches increased so did this need in him to make things right between the Dwellers and the Imperials. He felt…uneasy. Fearful.

  Club members had already died. A drug shipment had been stolen. Christopher was furious, planning a nationwide, entire organization retaliation. He was intending to hit all of the Imperials. He’d already secured ten AKs.

  Kendall had convinced Johnnie that it was of the utmost importance to meet with Randolph as soon as possible, to continue with the peace talks. Afraid for his wife and children, he’d agreed. So, here he was, sitting across from the Imperials’ enforcer, a day after Christopher so unceremoniously ended the meeting with the Imperials.

  In effect, Johnnie was betraying the Death Dwellers. But the Imperials took no prisoners. If they engaged in a war with the other club, Kendall, Rory, Matilda, and JJ were at risk, and he wouldn’t forgive himself if something happened to any of them. He loved his wife and children dearly.

  Still, he felt Christopher’s way was the best way. The minute the Dwellers started backing down, they’d lose their power. Some kind of way, however, Kendall changed his mind.

  His brain warned him this was a bad idea. His mouth spoke the words of betrayal that would get him killed if Christopher found out.

  “Johnnie?” Kendall nudged him. “Randolph asked you a question.”

  Johnnie squinted between Kendall and Randolph. Feeling dizzy while stationary was the most fucked up feeling in the world. It threw him completely off-balance. He hadn’t even been able to drive himself to this meeting. Hence, Kendall’s presence.

  “Your woman told me she’s an attorney,” Randolph started, holding his glass of beer a few inches from his mouth. He drank deeply then continued. “I have a case I need representation on. My last attorney ran into the blade of a knife.” He snickered.

  “I’m not here to discuss Kendall’s career.” Johnnie tasted more whiskey. He frowned at his trembling. He could barely hold the glass to his lips because of his shaking hand.

  Kendall narrowed her eyes, while amusement slid into Randolph’s face.

  “Getting the shakes, huh, dude?” the Imperial asked.

  Swallowing, Kendall laughed nervously.

  Johnnie set the glass down. “It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he snapped. “As for Kendall taking on your case? No. Not at the moment.”

  “Not at the moment?” Kendall echoed, then grinned at him. “That’s a big change from a week ago when you said absolutely not.”

  Something inside of him had changed since then. Wondering what that might be, he squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again.

  “I want to talk about the Dwellers absorbing the Imperials into the club before your club fucks up again and steal more of our shit.” Johnnie’s mouth was so fucking dry, so he licked his lips. “Yesterday’s meeting didn’t go as planned. I did my part and got Christopher to attend. You didn’t do yours and tell Mystic to comply.”

  Randolph took his time lighting a cigarette. “We want in the Dwellers, Johnnie. We did what we needed to get his attention,” he said flatly. “You make that happen or Outlaw might find out about our little alliance.”

  Icy anger settled into his stomach. “Are you threatening me?” he snarled, his temper spiking in an instant.

  “Of course not, darli
ng,” Kendall inserted. “He’s only trying to help you. Imagine if you brokered this deal peacefully. No lives lost. It would impress the brothers and show them what a capable leader you are.”

  Lives had already been lost, although Kendall didn’t know it.

  Randolph puffed his cigarette and released the smoke. “Do I smell dissension in the camp?” he questioned. “Are you looking to move in on Outlaw?”

  “Fuck no!” Johnnie told him. “My loyalty and allegiance are to him and the Dwellers, so get that idea out of your head.”

  “Just by meeting with me without club approval says otherwise,” Randolph pointed out.

  Johnnie growled.

  Kendall laid on hand on his arm. “Calm down, love,” she cooed. “Randolph doesn’t mean anything. Why don’t you pour yourself another whiskey?”

  She pulled a flask from her oversized purse and slid it to him.

  Before he poured himself another drink, the room started to spin. Closing his eyes, he rested his head against the cushion at the back of the booth. “I don’t think I can drink any more, gorgeous,” he mumbled. “I’m not feeling too good.”

  “You’re fine,” she soothed.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Randolph’s voice came from far away. “Is he fucking high?”

  Another nervous laugh from Kendall, one that Johnnie knew meant something. He couldn’t think of what, though.

  “My husband is perfectly fine, thank you very much. And I warn you, don’t fuck over him by going to that Neanderthal he has for a brother.”

  “What are you offering to stop me?”

  “Not pussy, you fucking asshole.”

  “Kendall, shut up,” Johnnie slurred, unable to raise his head. “We don’t want your temper to be seen as disrespect. If that happens, just what I’m trying to avoid—war between the clubs—will begin anyway.”

  “Listen to your old man, bitch. If you know what’s good for you.”

  “Are you threatening me?” Kendall demanded. “If you are, then you’re stupider than you look. In the world of the Dwellers, I’m low on the totem pole. You want to hit the club bad, get Meggie, Outlaw’s old lady.”

  “Is that so?” Randolph responded.

  “Everyone knows that,” Kendall said sharply. “I’m an innocent party in this. Just the lowly wife of the lowly vice-president. My husband and I are the good ones. You’ll do well to have an alliance with us. We know how to live together or apart. Outlaw is crippled if something happens to his precious Meggie.”

  “Thanks for the information,” Randolph said smoothly. “I like your style. You’re going to do well for me in court.”

  “I’d do well for anyone,” she retorted. “I’m a pro at what I do.”

  “You’re so modest,” Randolph said dryly.

  “I am,” Kendall agreed, then tapped Johnnie’s shoulder. “You’re going to let me take the case, aren’t you, my love?”

  Johnnie stared at the ceiling, sure he was on the verge of death. His hands and feet were tingling. His thoughts were in disarray. And his mind was a vacant tunnel.

  “Here’s my card, Randolph,” he heard Kendall say. “Call me in three days. I’m sure by then Johnnie will have changed his mind.”

  “We can meet at my place. Get to know each other on a more…personal level.”

  “No, asshole, we cannot. I love my husband.”

  “I had to try.”

  “Your efforts are lost on me.”

  “I’ll bet they aren’t. Any woman who’d push her husband to meet with an enemy of his organization would do anything.”

  “We need to leave,” Johnnie mumbled.

  Randolph hooted with laughter. “Should I call you the Black Widow, Kendall?”

  The words echoed through Johnnie’s head, and he shivered.

  “No, you may not,” Kendall screeched, then bumped her leg against Johnnie’s. “Excuse me, love. I need to get our vehicle. I’ll be right back to help you outside.”

  Lifting his head by sheer determination, Johnnie swung his legs to the side, so Kendall could scoot past. Her scent drifted back to him. Usually, her nearness, her smell, turned him on. Now, his cock didn’t even jump.

  For the past two days, he hadn’t gotten an erection.

  “I’d watch your ass, Donovan,” Randolph said, standing next to him.

  Johnnie wasn’t sure how much time had passed.

  “I think you’re being poisoned, if you ask me. Call me when you’re feeling better to do what needs to be done so we can both see our goals reached.”

  His ears buzzing, Johnnie watched Randolph walk away, stopping long enough to whisper to Kendall before continuing on.

  “Come on, Johnnie,” she said, reaching his side. She held out her hand.

  “I don’t feel good, Kendall,” Johnnie admitted around a moan.

  “I know, love. It’ll pass. I promise. Just take my hand and I’ll get you to the car. Trust me.”

  “I do, gorgeous,” Johnnie told her, gripping her delicate hand and coming to his feet.

  She slid her hand through his arm and held onto him, leading him out the door and keeping him on his feet all the way to her Navigator. At the passenger side, she released him long enough to open the door then help him onto the seat and strap his seatbelt.

  “I never want to hurt you,” Kendall said quietly, as they started off.

  “I know.”.

  “Just let me take the case, and, I swear everything can return to normal.”

  He wanted to say yes. She sounded so fucking pitiful and distressed. But something deep inside of him made him shake his head.

  “Why are you making me do this?” she cried.

  “I don’t know,” he blurted. More to the point, he didn’t remember what he was making her do.

  “Just say yes and things will be fine. I only want to work this one case. I don’t want to hurt you.” She sniffled. “Please, be okay, Johnnie. I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Kendall,” he managed before the darkness that had been calling him all evening swooped in and claimed him.

  MEGGIE HEADED TO THE HOME gym via the back staircase. She’d finished her paperwork earlier than expected and Kendall hadn’t come in today, still in a pique from two days ago.

  Christmas was three days away, so she hoped Kendall got past her annoyance so they’d have a good holiday.

  She’d worry about that later. Right now, she had more important matters to see to. Meggie had called Christopher and told him she had the house all to herself.

  Now, forty-five minutes later, he’d texted her to meet him in their gym. She pushed the ajarred door open and stepped in, not surprised to hear heavy metal playing on the room’s dedicated sound system.

  Because of the volume, he didn’t hear her approach, so she paused to take in the beauty of her shirtless husband as he lay on the bench, lifting massive weights. He was so stubborn. She always preferred him to have a spotter when he was dealing with three hundred pounds of iron.

  His massive hands gripped the barbell, lifted, held, and pressed, repeating the process over and over again. With each move, the muscles in his upper arms flexed. His six-pack rippled with the motion of his body.

  At the sight of his cock pressing against his sweatpants, she flushed, heat sweeping through her entire being and pooling in her center. He set the barbell back into place, drew in a breath, then lifted his head.

  He grinned at her and she almost swooned. There was nothing like a smile from her husband. It transfixed her.

  He grabbed the sound system’s remote control, turned the volume down, and sat up.

  Sweat plastered his dark hair to his head, beading against his tan skin. She licked her lips and his green eyes smoldered.

  “I’ll just go over here,” she said, her breathlessness giving her away, as she pointed to her exercise ball.

  Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she beamed a smile at him, and sashayed to the other side of the room. His laughter trailed behind her.
He knew her game. She grinned to herself, not in the least bothered when the music started again. She was so aware of him, she thought she might go insane with anticipation. Without facing him, she knew she had his full attention.

  It was only after the birth of Ransom that she’d started utilizing their gym. Since Christopher’s vasectomy left her little chance of becoming pregnant again, she focused on the weight left over from her pregnancies. Now, she was just about back to pre-baby size. While she still wished she might one day have another child, working out increased her energy, allowing her to do all she had to do in the course of a day. She had a full, rewarding life, and she couldn’t have been happier.

  After five minutes of stretching, Meggie went to the stability balls, opting for the bigger red one, rather than the smaller yellow. First, she knelt in front of it before stretching out, allowing the ball to rest in her upper abdominal region. She crossed her hands over her chest and lifted up, only about three inches instead of the five or six Christopher did.

  She grunted through ten repetitions, before collapsing…er, resting against the ball. The music stopped again, and her senses went on alert. He was coming to her. Hyperawareness prickled her skin, and made her breath catch.

  The closer his footsteps drew, the more her heart pounded. Finally, he kneeled behind her and placed his hand at the small of her back. She shivered at his touch, sensitive to that initial contact from him. In those moments, expectation became reality, and shot fire along every nerve ending in her body.

  Grabbing her waist, he urged her to her feet and turned her to face him. In times like these, she didn’t have to stand on her tiptoes to kiss him. He wrapped her in his arms and she pressed her mouth against his opening to his thrusting tongue. He threaded his fingers through her hair and twisted, drawing a sharp breath from her.

  Taking advantage, he massaged her tongue with his, prodding his erection against her belly. He buried his face between her breasts and she was sorry she hadn’t worn only a sports bra to work out in. She loved the feel of his stubble on her skin, but the scooped-necked T-shirt she wore worked as a barrier.

  He nuzzled her neck, pulling her capri leggings down to her ankles. Stopping to massage her clit, he took first one ankle and then the other to pull her leggings over her tennis shoes. When he removed her T-shirt, he left her only in her sports bra and shoes.