Johnnie sat in one of the waiting room chairs.
“Fuck, Knox.”
“You and Kendall are separated,” he pointed out. “If you don’t have plans to reconcile with her, you need to move on with your life.”
Wildness crept into his eyes. “With Emily?”
“She’s the next best thing to Megan.”
Johnnie leaned his head against the wall and stared at the ceiling. “That wouldn’t be fair to her.”
“Who? Megan or Emily?
“Emily,” Johnnie answered.
Knox nodded, thoughtful. Hadn’t they had a similar conversation, a few days ago, in the clubhouse? It was worth repeating, though, especially as a means to an end. “How many times have you compared Kendall to Megan?”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.” Johnnie turned his head and stared into space. “My marriage is over.”
Knox sat in a chair across from Johnnie. “You sure about that?”
His jaw tightened, but he remained silent. If Johnnie filed for divorce and then got with Emily, it wouldn’t have the same impact on Kendall. She would already be in the midst of permanently losing Johnnie. But if she had even a smidgeon of hope that her marriage could be saved, then the devastation would be all the greater. All the sweeter.
“My marriage is over,” Johnnie insisted after long moments of silence.
“You don’t love Kendall anymore?”
Johnnie snapped his attention to Knox. “I will always love her—”
“I thought that was Megan you’d always love.”
Johnnie tipped his head back again. “I loved Megan,” he said tiredly. “With my whole being. I still love her, but I’m not in love with her. I don’t feel about her the way I once did. No one believes me.”
“That’s because you don’t act like it. Of all the women in the club, you’re constantly telling Kendall you’ve went to Megan for advice. Fuck, why not go to Roxanne? Why Megan? For that matter, why not Outlaw? Or Mortician? Me?”
“Christopher is always ready and willing to give advice to me. All the guys are.”
“I would think I’d be the one you’d seek out, more than anyone else, since you and I have the most in common. For instance, we’re both educated.”
Johnnie stiffened, then raised his head and offered Knox a cold glower. “Comments like that will get you fucked up, motherfucker.”
Knox was merely trying to show Johnnie he identified with him.
“Don’t insult me by believing I think I’m above Christopher. I’ll—”
“Don’t you?” Knox interrupted, cocking his head to the side. “That’s why you’re so fucking stuck on Megan. You think you’re better than him, yet he got her anyway.”
Instead of responding, Johnnie stretched out his legs, lit a cigarette, and then pulled out a K-Bar from inside his cut. It was one of the most awesome knives Knox had ever seen, with its silver handle and skull tip.
Dragging on his cigarette, then releasing smoke, Johnnie held it between his fingers and raised the knife up with his other hand. “This blade is special. Unused. Nearly new,” he started, offering Knox the grin of a mad man. “Paid a grand for it. The E.W.Stone Knife.” He turned it first one way and then the other. Inhaled smoke then exhaled, never once taking his chilling silver eyes off Knox’s face. “Do you want your blood to be the first to stain it?”
Knox raised a hand.
“I think you must,” Johnnie went on. “You’re speaking lies. I don’t consider myself above Christopher.”
How had things spiraled so far out of control so quickly?
“We’re friends, Johnnie,” Knox reminded him.
“Then, as your friend, I’ll give you this warning. Back the fuck off. I’m on edge, and that’s not a very good place for me to be. My marriage is over,” he said for the third time.
It hit Knox that Johnnie repeatedly expressed those words because he was trying to convince himself as much as anyone else.
“I don’t need you to spout your bullshit about believing I think I’m better than Christopher. Or that I still love Megan.”
Not responding, Knox decided it was in his best interest to steer the conversation back to Emily. He wouldn’t search for a way to ease into the topic. With Johnnie out of patience, Knox was out of time.
“Give Emily a call,” he pressed. “You and Kendall are separated, so maybe, you need another woman to fill your bed.”
“Kendall and I are separated but not divorced.”
“True, but seeing someone else might help you to decide, once and for all, if you do want to divorce Kendall.”
“What if Kendall finds out? What then? Knowing Kendall, she’ll find another man to fuck just to spite me.”
Johnnie flicked the ashes off his forgotten cigarette onto the floor. But Knox stayed silent, since Johnnie still held the K-Bar.
“If Kendall sleeps with another motherfucker while we’re still married, I’ll cut his cock off and watch him bleed to death.” He squeezed the cigarette out. “On that principle, I refuse to sleep with another woman.”
“That’s commendable. So don’t sleep with Emily. Just spend the time getting to know her.”
“Don’t you think my life is complicated enough? How would Kendall feel if I brought this woman around?”
“She doesn’t have to know,” Knox pressed. He deserved a bonus for the pressure he was putting on Johnnie. “Kendall’s barred from the club and the grounds. If you and Emily hit it off, and you ended up in a relationship…” His voice trailed off and he shrugged. “You deserve happiness.”
“Yes. As do my children.” He glanced at the door, then got to his feet. “Maybe, I’ll send her a text and invite her for a drink at the club.”
Knox stood as well. “Do that,” he said, clapping him on the back.
Shoving his knife into a special pocket he had made into his cuts, Johnnie seemed as if he would talk again. Instead, he took his leave without another word.
Sinking down into his seat, Knox released his breath. He hadn’t known he’d been holding it until that moment. That was to be expected with the intensity of the meeting that had just taken place.
Heading to his office, Knox grabbed his phone and went to the keypad, preparing to call Roxanne as he normally did during the course of the day. He froze.
He couldn’t call her because she no longer wanted to talk to him.
Instead of calling her, he went to the stored photos and pulled up her pictures. He touched the screen, wishing he’d feel her skin beneath his fingertips, praying he’d hear the sound of her voice, but knowing he wouldn’t. Until she forgave him.
He was determined to make that happen.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Leaning against the headboard on the bed in his old room at the clubhouse, Johnnie tipped his bottle of whisky back and drank. Thoughts of Kendall ran through his head. She had such luxuriant red hair and a gorgeous face, with brown eyes that always held a touch of sadness. No matter what he said to her or did for her, she’d never escaped that lost little girl buried inside of her.
Two nights ago, at the family dinner, she’d tipped him over the edge. He hadn’t been able to control her. As usual. She’d fucked with CJ one time too many. It hadn’t been Christopher’s retribution Kendall had to face but Megan’s. Johnnie had never seen her more furious. He was so used to defending Kendall, he’d automatically jumped into his role as her protector. For his efforts, Megan had broken his goddamn nose.
Johnnie had followed Kendall home, their kids in his car, to make sure she got home safe. She’d come to his Navigator, face bloodied, bruised, and streaked with tears, so he’d gotten out, left his sleeping children, and escorted her inside. He couldn’t remember if they’d closed the entrance door to Kendall’s house or not. He’d just been absorbed with her. Her theatrics. Her drama. Her self-pity.
Glowering at the ceiling, Johnnie drank more whisky, recalling Knox questioning Johnnie’s real feelings for Kendall. It was unfortunate, but Johnnie ha
d loved Kendall with everything in him. He didn’t know what he felt for her anymore. Love? Hate? Pity?
Nothing?
He missed her. He missed having their family unit, but she didn’t know how to treat children. Kendall didn’t know how to treat anyone, especially those who loved and needed her.
He was sick to fucking death of her bullshit. If only she behaved…no! Fuck that. If onlys were done. Over with. He’d thought the same thing on so many different occasions. Made excuses for her. Believed her.
The blind trust he put in Kendall time and again made Johnnie wonder if he needed his own fucking head checked. Yet, he’d believed in her, given her the benefit of the doubt too many times to count because he trusted her words.
Goddamn her!
Fuck her!
He drank again and sighed, then picked up the book he’d purchased today. It gave insight into Behavioral Personality Disorder. It listed the characteristics of BPD and explored options.
It read like a checklist for Kendall’s behavior.
Explosive anger? Check
Fear of abandonment? Check
Out of touch with reality; extreme mood swings; and unstable relationships? Check, check, and check.
Uncertain self-image, suspiciousness?
Impulsiveness?
Self-destructive behavior?
It was yes, check, fuck yeah, to all of the above. If she truly had been diagnosed with the disorder, then what? He wouldn’t take her word for it. She’d burned him too many times before. Still. Then what? If she didn’t take her mental health seriously, how could he? The ‘why’ was easy. He’d do it for their children. They deserved a loving mother. But he’d do it for Kendall. She deserved peace and happiness.
Sitting up, he set the almost-empty whisky bottle on the nightstand. Emily Riser’s business card caught his attention. She didn’t list her profession, but her phone number was big and bold.
She was a beautiful woman, resembling Megan at first glance. Then, with more clarity, he’d seen hardness in her eyes. Blue but cold as ice.
Johnnie rubbed the back of his neck. Maybe, he wanted to see that. Because she wasn’t Kendall. Or Megan. Maybe, he should give her a chance. See how he felt talking to another woman, outside of business, who wasn’t a family member or his wife. He rarely spoke to the club girls anymore. Kendall didn’t like him to.
He sighed again, then picked up his cell phone and the business card, dialing Emily’s number.
“Hello?”
Her voice was clear and authoritative.
“Hi, Emily. This is Johnnie. The biker.”
“Oh, heyyyy,” she greeted, sounding genuinely happy that he’d called her.
He smiled. “What are you up to?”
“Er, reading some reports,” she said around a small cough.
“Really? What type? What business are you in?”
Papers shuffled in the background. “Oh, mercy me! I’m not going to spend our time discussing business. How boring is that?”
Johnnie chuckled. “You’re right, sweetheart.”
“Are you calling to offer me a ride?”
The question oozed with insinuation. He thought about responding in kind, then changed his mind. “Not now.”
“Oh, poo. You didn’t even ask what type of ride I wanted.”
He’d always been so playful, even when he was just shooting the shit with a woman and had no intentions of fucking her. Since meeting Kendall, he’d changed so much. The more he tried to make her happy, the worst she got. “I can think of several kind to offer,” he responded. “Which type do you want?”
She laughed, a carefree sound that represented no ill will, no tears, no acidic words.
Johnnie stretched out on the bed and decided to enjoy this woman’s conversation.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The wind blowing threw her hair, Meggie clung to Christopher as he took a curve. Exhilaration shot through her and she tilted her head back, feeling the warmth of the sunshine and the cool breeze. The fumes from the exhaust pipe, the scent of leather and oil, of Christopher, hit her nostrils, and she breathed in deep.
Turning off the main road, Christopher rode to one of two secret entrances to the club’s property. It was right at the edge, where the stream that ran by the cave, was clear and shallow.
When Christopher told her they didn’t need helmets, she’d known where they were going. It surprised her that he’d gone the long way, but she didn’t complain. Handling a bike was second nature to him. Besides, he’d never do anything to put her in danger. If he thought it was safe to go helmetless, then it was.
He'd surprised her this evening by asking her to go for a spin. Although they didn’t go for rides as often as they once did, they still stole those special moments together. Something about his look and his words grabbed her attention.
Last week, he’d burned her dress. She’d been angry until she listened to his reasons. The next morning, she’d stored all her white clothes in the attic. That afternoon, he’d returned them to her closet. When she’d found them back in place, she’d pressed her hand over her heart and laughed through her tears, then sought him out, finding him cleaning his guns in a secured room, specially designed with the kids in mind.
She’d hugged him. “Everything will be fine, Christopher. You’ll see.”
He’d given her a half-smile and a kiss, then went back to taking care of his weapons.
Now, as he coasted to a halt, planted his feet on the ground for balance, and allowed the bike to idle, Meggie laid her head on his shoulder, breathing in the leather of his cut. The feel of him, his scent, her love for him, ignited her body. They hadn’t made love in weeks because he’d been healing.
She touched his side, roamed around to his washboard-hard stomach, going lower still to grip his erection through his jeans. She slid off the bike and got to her feet. Christopher looked at her, his eyes a green enigma, his face rough with five o’clock shadow. She took off her boots and socks, curled her toes at the feel of the cool earth beneath her feet.
Meeting and holding his gaze, she unfastened her leather pants, then slid them down her legs. When they pooled at her feet, she stepped out of them. Christopher lifted her by the waist and sat her in front of him. Grabbing her throat, he bent and smashed his mouth against hers, sweeping his tongue past her lips in hot demand. Her legs wrapped around his waist, Meggie twirled her tongue around his, giving him what he needed and wanted, grinding against him. He grunted, a primeval, animalistic sound that sent a rush of wetness between her legs. She thrust her fingers through his hair, consumed by his fierce possession, intoxicated by his sheer domination. This kiss wasn’t gentle and mild and sweet. It was wet and wild, the kind that led to fucking and not lovemaking.
He released his hold on her, inserted his hand between their bodies and ripped her panties away.
“Turn,” he ordered.
Desire spread through her body at his rough tone. Once she faced forward, she grabbed the handlebars. A moment later, she felt the smooth head of his cock teasing the entrance of her pussy. He grabbed her hips and thrust fully into her. The vibrations of the idling bike massaged her clit each time it came into contact with the fuel tank. She groaned, squeezed the throttle on the handlebar to heighten the stimulation. He pounded into her, with hard, fast strokes that made Meggie cry out over and over again. Christopher worked her pussy with ruthless skill.
Her screams of pleasure crescendoed as her orgasm hit and her body shook. Christopher pummeled her, then stiffened, pouring into her with a harsh groan.
Suddenly, the silence surrounded her and the vibrations of the bike stopped. Christopher had cut the engine. She remained still, catching her breath, allowing her body and mind to reconnect.
“You okay, baby?”
She nodded. “Perfect.”
“You ready to head back?”
Her eyes popped open and she sat up. “I brought snacks for us. Let’s commune with nature and talk a bit.”
>
She got off the bike and grabbed her pants, pulling them on, taking care because of her sensitive clit. By the time she put her socks and boots back on, Christopher had found the blanket, beer, Coke, and sandwiches she’d packed in the saddle bag. Together, they arranged the blanket underneath a tree. Meggie sat and leaned against the trunk, smiling as Christopher laid his head in her lap.
She bent and brushed his lips with her own, brushing her fingers through his black hair. The gray entwining with the dark strands made him even sexier.
“You know what the fuck I been thinkin’, Megan?” he asked after a sweet silence where they just enjoyed being in each other’s presence. “Roxanne and Bailey gettin’ married, but the fuckin’ ceremonies the last thing on my fuckin’ mind.”
“I know what you mean,” Meggie agreed. “I know plans are being made and nearly a month has already gone by since Knox proposed, but…” Her voice trailed off.
“A fuckin’ weddin’ the last thing on any motherfucker mind,” Christopher finished for her. “Even the motherfuckers the weddin’ for.”
Meggie nodded. “What’s going on? It seems like our ceremonies are always filled with drama. Remember when we were planning our church wedding?”
He looked at her. “Ain’t able to forget that bullshit, baby. Cee Cee was on the fuckin’ loose. You was left a dead fuckin’ head. I almost got my fuckin’ ass shot the fuck off.”
“But we ended up married anyway. I hope things work out that way for Roxy and Bailey.”
“Look at the shit this way. If the ceremony called off, I ain’t gotta wear a fuckin’ monkey suit.”
Meggie giggled. “You’re sooo bad, Christopher.”
“My ass ain’t knowin’ how the fuck you got me to fuckin’ wear a fuckin’ tux more than one fuckin’ time.”
“I ask you really nice.”
“No, you bat your pussy at me and I ain’t able to fuckin’ resist.”
She laughed, bent and kissed his forehead. “How are you feeling?”
“My cock back to it-fuckin-self, so I’m fuckin’ fine.” He flattened his palm against her belly. “Motherfucker so good I probably fuckin’ filled you with my kid.”
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 486
