Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  The sound of Roxy digging through her purse reached Meggie.

  “What is it, Bunny?” Roxy asked in a distracted tone.

  “Last night, Mark began talking about Mortician’s chaperoning,” Bunny confessed. “Of Roxy and Knox,” she clarified.

  Roxy peeped in the mirror on the visor and met Bunny’s gaze. “And?”

  “He seems to think we are all going to band together and arrange a secret rendezvous between you and Knox.” Bunny sighed. “For a minute, I thought he’d found out about the secret meeting we arranged between you and Knox. When I realized he hadn’t, I still felt guilty and I told him even if we did, Bailey would never go along with it. She’s like Switzerland in this situation. Neutral. That started the whole ‘no-room for neutrality’ conversation. Mark said Bailey’s allegiance should be to her husband, first and foremost. The conversation still bothers me, especially in light of what we did. I want to know, when you have to choose a side between your mother and your husband should you just ignore what might be best for your mother, even if her side is right?”

  Roxy drew her brows together, still observing in the visor mirror. “Somewhere in the bible it says a man shall cleave unto his wife. I don’t know exactly where. Last time I read the Good Book all I remember is this one begetting with that one, and that one begetting with this one. They did a lot of begetting in those days.”

  “Mama, move closer to the door. When lightning strikes you, I don’t want to be in the line of fire,” Bailey grumped.

  Roxy laughed. “Don’t worry, sugar. If I haven’t been struck by lightning yet, I think we’re safe.”

  “Does it say anywhere that a wife should cleave unto her husband?” Bailey asked, staring at the road ahead as she deftly moved through traffic.

  “Not that I recall,” Roxy answered. “There is something about how a wife shouldn’t separate from her husband. If she does, she has to remain unmarried the rest of her life or reconcile with her man.”

  “I wish I knew the bible like you,” Bunny said wistfully.

  “Chile, please,” Roxy responded. “I know bits and pieces. Most of what I remember is just brought out for situations like these. Not because I’m religious. I quote the bible to make a point, so what good does it do me to know scripture if I don’t really apply it to my every day life?” She shrugged, her question rhetorical. “Don’t do me one damn bit of good. This is a conversation for another day. Besides, religion and politics…remember the rules. Those topics shouldn’t be discussed in polite society.”

  The four of them gazed at each and roared with laughter.

  “We’re so fucking far from polite, ‘til the shit not even funny,” Roxy hooted.

  Even Meggie felt brief peace at the light moment. Covertly, she speed-dialed Christopher’s number again. Once again—straight to voicemail.

  “Let me answer,” Bailey piped up as Meggie refocused on the conversation, pretending, for the moment, she wasn’t almost crazy with worry.

  Christopher was the club president. He had many, many enemies, and he’d already been kidnapped once. Twice, if she counted the time Snake had gotten him.

  Meggie drew in a shaky breath and swallowed.

  “So you would always side with Mortician?” Bunny asked.

  Lost in her thoughts, Meggie missed whatever Bailey said.

  “Yes,” Bailey told Bunny.

  “I disagree, baby,” Roxy said. “You helped me and Knox because you know, in this situation, you husband is being totally unreasonable. Knox has given him no reason for Mortician to lay down the law like he has and not allow us to live together.”

  Meggie cringed. Yes, he had given Mortician a reason. Christopher had told Meggie all about the conversation the guys had, where Knox said he could always propose to Roxy, eff her, and then leave if they cornered him into proposing. Knox had a way of talking out-of-hand, especially when he was annoyed. Meggie felt those words came from one of those times. But the guys didn’t want to take the chance that he’d follow through on his threat. His proposal had taken them all by surprise. A few weeks before, he’d sworn to the guys he had no intentions of proposing. They were beyond suspicious of him.

  More recently, Bailey had called her, Bunny, Zoann, and Fee on a conference call and told them all about Knox’s behavior at the dinner. The man was being a complete moron. But they had to protect Roxy at all costs. They believed Knox loved her. He was just an idiot and used to having things his way. But there would be no more help from any of them to arrange secret hook-ups between him and Roxy.

  “It’s all about Girl Power,” Roxy inserted.

  Even glummer, Meggie leaned her elbow against the arm rest on the door and cradled her head in her palm.

  “Especially now,” Roxy went on. “We should totally plan another secret rendezvous between me and Knox. Mortician is being so goddamn unreasonable.”

  Deciding she’d let Bailey handle that, Meggie speed dialed Christopher’s number yet again, just in case she’d caught him between calls. Same thing, though. Straight to voicemail.

  “Are you okay, Meggie?” Bunny asked. “You’ve been awfully quiet.

  “I haven’t heard from Christopher since early this morning. The last time I talked to him was when he was walking out of the door to head to the club. This isn’t like him at all.”

  Roxy twisted in her front passenger seat to look back at Meggie. She hadn’t felt like driving, so Bailey had offered to do so before anyone else could. “Don’t worry, sugar. I’m sure he’s fine. Something must’ve come up.”

  “But what? He would’ve let me know if he had to go on a run. Or anywhere.”

  “Lucas isn’t with him,” Bailey said with assurance. “We’ve been texting back and forth, and he said he was taking care of club business. A lost shipment or something.”

  “Mark is in one of the warehouses, overseeing the packaging of merchandise,” Bunny added.

  Speed dialing his number again, Meggie’s heart sank when she got the same result. “He has to be okay.”

  “Nothing happened to him, baby,” Roxy said with the utmost confidence.

  Meggie nodded. “Things happen so fast. One minute you’re driving along and the next minute you’re being surrounded by motorcycles and taken.”

  “Aww, Meggie,” Roxy clucked. “I know you’re traumatized but Outlaw knows how to take care of himself. If he was really worried about something going down, he’d have us surrounded by guards.”

  “He wants me to have guards,” Meggie confessed, “but I told him I need to be the way I once was. Running errands on my own. What kind of message would I send to CJ? How would Christopher ever get anything done if he got a report on every move I made?”

  Roxy snorted. “To CJ, it would seem as if his momma wanted to stay alive. To Outlaw, he’d focus more. Imagine how he must feel, all alone, knowing you’re out there where anything can happen? I’m surprised at how selfish you’re being.”

  “Maybe not selfish,” Bailey amended quickly. “Just too overwhelmed to realize your life is different now. As Outlaw’s wife, you always have a target on your back.”

  “Unless you wear a disguise,” Bunny suggested. “But then you’d have to drive different cars and change up your looks every so often. It isn’t worth it. I’m with Outlaw on this one.”

  “We all are,” Roxy said sharply. “But it’s not up to us.”

  “When I’d run errands on my own, I used it as me-time,” Meggie confessed.

  “You had a lot of fucking me-time when you were chained up,” Roxy retorted. “I’d say you don’t need more for awhile.”

  She hadn’t always had that much time to herself. At one time, it had been when she soaked in the bathtub and that had been fine to rejuvenate herself. She was sure it would be fine again. She was just adding to Christopher’s worries with her stubbornness and refusal to see his point of view.

  Roxy was right. What had gotten into her? Didn’t that mean Mystic would’ve won, though? Christopher was st
rong and brave, and he needed her to be the same.

  “I’ll talk to him,” she said. “Just as soon as I hear from him.”

  “I’m tired, Bailey,” Roxy said around a yawn. “Why don’t we head back to the club?”

  “Okay, Mama.”

  Meggie didn’t say anything. She just hoped by the time they got back to Hortensia, Christopher would’ve turned up.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Christopher grimaced as he slid into the passenger seat of Bailey’s Escalade. The anesthesia was wearing off, leaving his balls with a pain that extended down his cock.

  “Prez, you good?” Mort asked after he slammed the passenger side door and got into the driver’s seat. He’d commandeered Bailey’s SUV to serve as Christopher’s chauffeur.

  “No, motherfucker,” he growled. “I ain’t. And I gotta get my ass to-fuckin-gether before I see my girl.”

  He’d been gone since early this morning. Between the surgery and the recovery time, he hadn’t spoken to her since that time, either.

  Drawing in a deep breath, Mort started the ignition. “Meggie girl gonna know something wrong, Outlaw. You walking like you got sausages stuck up your ass. You stepping like you about to break out in a scene from the Nutcracker. You ever saw that ballet? The most boring shit ever. I went to sleep and Bailey didn’t disturb me neither. The best sleep I ever had in a public place. Drool was running down my chin and shit. That should’ve taught Bailey not to bring me to a boring ass ballet. I guess she didn’t learn her lesson. We going to see something else in a couple of weeks. About the time it’ll take you to get back to yourself. I have to hear the shit you telling Meggie for her to believe your cute little walk not related to your cock.”

  “Whatever, motherfucker,” Christopher grumbled, Mortician’s voice echoing through his head like a menace in a dark tunnel. His pain was grouching him out. He pushed the seat into a reclining position and closed his eyes. “Shut the fuck up, so I can get some fuckin’ rest.”

  “Guess I better leave you alone.”

  One of Christopher’s eyes popped open. “I guess the fuck you better. Talk to me when my cock ain’t feelin’ like it got weights attached to that motherfucker that’s dragging it on the fucking ground.”

  Mort backed out of the space and went to the parking lot exit. “Damn, prez. Now, normally, I don’t comment on another motherfucker dick, but I can’t let this shit slide. Prez, bruh, I saw your cock in all states. Fuck, more than I want to see the motherfucker and I don’t give a fuck how you might want to dispute me, your shit not big enough that weights’ll make him drag the ground.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Mortician,” Christopher snapped, glaring at his friend and folding his arms. “I ain’t gettin’ into no dick-sizin’ conversation with you. Wasn’t even re-fuckin-ferring to the size of my big cock. The motherfucker hurt. It hurt so bad, it got the crack of my ass burnin’.”

  Finally easing into the traffic, Mort shook his head. “I hope your ball reversal worth it.”

  “I ain’t have the motherfuckers switched, assfuck.”

  “Okay, your sac reversal.”

  “It’s a fuckin’ dick snip flip, so shut the fuck up and let me fuckin’ sleep.”

  Christopher didn’t sleep, though. He thought of Megan. She was with him all the time—in his heart and his head. Except when he had to fuck a motherfucker up. He wouldn’t mar her goodness with that gruesomeness, even in his mind. She was his sweet angel and he’d do whatever the fuck he needed to do to keep his woman safe, including going through a dick snip flip. He hadn’t told her or asked her feelings about the situation. Megan loved little motherfuckers, so she wouldn’t have a problem with Christopher wanting her pregnant again.

  How-fuckin-ever, he’d made such a fucking commotion about getting the dick snip in the first place. She’d been disappointed but already pregnant. Since then, they hadn’t discussed it.

  Her current unreasonableness left him no choice but the low-motherfucker-move that currently had him and his cock in such misery. He’d feel her out before he told her what he’d done. Would she be his sweet angel or hell bitch again? Based on prior interactions, she’d welcome another pregnancy. She’d worked hard, though, to get her body back after all the babies. She hadn’t had much weight to lose. It was more of toning herself up. She was proud of the rewards her efforts achieved.

  Christopher couldn’t help but wonder if her firmer body meant something deeper? Or was she doing it because she’d been resigned to the fact that she wouldn’t ever get pregnant again?

  She knew how much he worried about her when she was knocked up. She stuck close to home and, if she did go out, she allowed the bikers Christopher assigned to her to go with her.

  Of fucking course, he couldn’t keep her knocked up. It was too fucking easy for him and Megan to make babies. At the rate they’d been going, they’d end up with enough kids to start their own country.

  Right now, though, he needed her either under guard, with him, or at home. Just until…until what? He sure as fuck would never forget she’d been stolen from him. Maybe, during her next pregnancy, it would register with her that he only wanted her safe. All the motherfuckers assigned to her detail loved it. She was young, gorgeous, and upbeat. She was the one who thought fuckheads were bored. They didn’t. Assfucks fought to be on her detail. Some of them, like Johnnie and Val, would never get that privilege.

  Christopher’s foresight helped them to keep their dicks attached to their bodies and their heads on their shoulders.

  “Fuck,” Mort grumbled.

  Christopher opened his eyes. Bumper-to-bumper traffic, heavier than usual, greeted him. He sighed. Whatever was causing this snarl on the 205, it would take them hours to get home, when all he wanted to do was get past Megan and get in bed.

  Tension rose in him. The longer he took to face his wife, the more nervous he’d become. He’d never get any shut eye in his current state, so he pulled his seat up.

  “If I ain’t been so scared of losin’ Megan she woulda been pushin’ another kid out soon.”

  Mort drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “You saying you don’t fear she’ll die in childbirth anymore?”

  “Yeah, Mort, Ima always be fuckin’ scared of that shit,” Christopher said quietly. “But I’m more scared a motherfucker takin’ her from me, and Megan ain’t listenin’. She ain’t wantin’ another detail cuz she so happy bein’ free to do her own shit. It’s fuckin’ killin’ me she fuckin’ agreed to a fuckin’ detail for my fuckin’ sake. How unhappy she gonna be with that? She like me-fuckin-time. She bein’ a stubborn lil motherfucker. Un-fuckin-reasonable as a motherfucker. I gotta do something to keep her home.”

  “We got her back.”

  “She was fuckin’ dyin’ in that fuckin’ hole, Mortician. If we wouldna found her when we did, I woulda…” He would’ve climbed down the stairs that led to the underground room, and found her corpse, just like in his nightmares. “I just come too close to losin’ her too many times. Megan my sun and my moon. I ain’t know what else to do but torturin’ my cock.”

  His balls felt as if they’d swelled to twice their normal size. He needed ice dumped on his dick. He needed to lay down in their bedroom, without a stitch of clothes, legs open, to cool his nuts.

  “Prez, I think you a little delirious talking about suns and moons, but I feel what you’re saying. You and Meggie share a love for the ages, brother. It’s a special connection.”

  Christopher’s eyes drooped closed before he opened them again. “She my heart and soul,” he whispered. “If I ever lose her, I lose me. My sanity. My life. I love Megan from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet. I just love her, Mort. She gotta be safe. Ain’t nothin’ happened to her in her other pregnancies, so I think my way the right way.”

  “You know her, Outlaw. If you think this will keep her inside, then you right.”

  Two hours later, Mortician shook Christopher awake as he pulled up in front of Christopher’s house, t
he place Megan made a home.

  “Let me help you to the door.”

  “Fuck no,” Christopher barked. “Cameras every-fuckin-where. If Megan see you helpin’ me, she gonna know shit ain’t right.”

  “You been snoring for ninety fucking minutes. You sure you can make it?”

  In response, Christopher opened the door and got out of the Escalade. Pain streaked through him, and he moaned.

  “Prez?”

  “Bye, Mort!”

  Mortician snickered, then drove off. For laughing at his pain, Christopher intended to fuck Mort up. Later, though. Right now, he wanted to crawl to his gate but he forced himself to walk and punch in the code.

  By the time he reached the back porch, sweat was popping from him and tears slid down his eyes.

  He took slow, measured steps through the mudroom and into the kitchen. He thanked whatever motherfucker was watching over him that Megan wasn’t in the room and dropped onto the nearest stool. Grunting, he braced his elbows on the counter and grabbed paper napkins to wipe his sweat and tears, then bowed his head.

  “Hey, you.”

  Her sweet voice floated to him, a moment before she laid her hand on his arm.

  “Hey, baby,” he responded, turning his face to her and stealing a kiss.

  She thumbed his lips. “I’ve been so worried about you,” she whispered in a trembling tone. “I haven’t heard from you in hours.”

  He was in too much cock pain to feel fucking guilty. “I had some fuckin’ shit to deal with off the radar.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.

  Stepping back, she eyed him, suspicion replacing her concern.

  “I ain’t fuck no motherfucker up, Megan,” he said.

  Relief brightened her eyes and she nodded. “Okay, I have your dinner plate all wrapped up. Let me warm it for you.” She headed to the stove.

  He sighed. The last thing he wanted was food. “I ain’t hungry, baby.”