Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  Saying nothing more, Outlaw turned and disappeared around the corner.

  A little while later, Knox purchased the smaller, lightweight bike.

  “Wafer, are you sure about this?”

  Later that evening, Cam circled Knox’s new motorcycle, admiring it from the detachable windshield that Outlaw insisted Knox purchase to the red taillight. The bike’s sleek lines reminded him of a racing bike. Except this one was street legal—and it was his.

  Smiling, Knox rolled back his sleeves to show Cam his arm art. “What do you think of my new toos, Cookie.”

  “It’s tats, Knox,” Cam corrected around laughter. “Tats.” He came closer to Knox, managing to drag his gaze away from the Harley. “Does she know yet?”

  Disappointed that Cam didn’t comment on the actual tattoos, Knox pulled down his sleeve and rebuttoned the cuff. “No. I was hoping she’d find out…someone would tell her. No one has. I’m still persona non grata, Cam.”

  “Suppose you do all of this and she still doesn’t take you back? What then?”

  What, indeed. If Roxanne didn’t take him back, Knox…no! She had to give him a second chance. He couldn’t imagine life without her forever. The past few weeks had been so hard on him. He’d never missed anyone as much as he missed Roxanne. Even Callie, by the time they’d separated, he’d been so tired of their constant arguments, that he’d been relieved to be away from her rather than regretful they were no longer a couple. As the mother of his son, he’d always hold her in the highest regard. Once upon a time, he had loved her. They just hadn’t been meant to be together forever. “What if I end up alone, Cameron? I can’t see myself with any other woman but Roxanne. What if she doesn’t forgive me?”

  Cam looked at Knox, his friend’s assessing expression sending discomfort through him. Roxanne and Jordan talked on a daily basis. Had she shared something with Jordan, who, in turn, told Cam, and now, the man saw him in a different light?

  “What?” Knox demanded. “What do you see under the microscope you’ve placed me?”

  “That,” Cam responded. “You, Knox. We’ve known each other most of our lives. If you spoke to me the way you talk to most people, we wouldn’t have ever become friends.”

  “What are you talking about? I talk to everyone as I always have.”

  “That’s the point. You talk to everyone with an air of superior condescension.”

  “I do not!”

  “You do,” Cam insisted.

  Pain tore through Knox. That his best friend saw him in such a light, crushed him.

  “Knox, listen to me. You’re my brother from another mother. I love you as if you were my own flesh-and-blood, but let’s be real for a minute. The world is yours to own. You went into law enforcement because that was your way of thinking you were giving back to society. You were a decent officer, but it was the Harrington money that moved you up the ranks. Donations. Politicking. Shit people like me don’t have. We do what we have to do to get where we want to be. Instead of being grateful for the opportunity, you weaponize your status. And you’re allergic to anyone not in your tax bracket.”

  “I’m not allergic to you,” Knox cut in, cold and hostile.

  Cam nodded. “No, you’re not. Let me point something out to you. All the people in the club that are closest to Roxanne, you despise. Johnnie isn’t that thrilled with her, yet, you consider him a friend. What does that say about your feelings for her?”

  “Who Roxanne associates with has nothing to do with how I feel about her.”

  “Show me your friends and I’ll tell you who you are.”

  “Fuck you. All these years, I thought you felt the same respect and admiration for me that I feel toward you. I’ve just been a laughingstock to you, Cameron.”

  “I don’t associate with people I don’t like and respect. I love you, Knox, because of who you are. I don’t allow you to treat me the way you do everyone else. You’re spoiled and entitled and you throw fucking fits when you don’t get your way. I told you this when your relationship with Callie started to disintegrate. All of this—” He waved his hand to encompass the motorcycle and Knox— “don’t mean a goddamn thing if you still look down on everything about the woman. Her friends. Her family. Her car. Her life. The change has to come from inside. You need to respect other people’s opinions. You need to come to terms with the two different sides to Mortician, Outlaw, and even Johnnie. They’re killers. They’re underworld overlords. But they are also loyal family men and faithful friends. Most of all, they have street smarts. Outlaw wouldn’t have gotten as far as he has without staying a step or five ahead of the law.”

  The door to the clubhouse opened before Knox responded. Mortician, Digger, Val, Johnnie, and Outlaw streamed outside, heading to where he stood with Cam.

  Digger clapped Knox on the back and held out his hand. “Welcome to the other side!” he said, pumping Knox’s hand in an exaggerated handshake. “Bruh, I think I’m going to call you Earp from now on.”

  “Earp?” Val asked, puffing on his cigarette, then taking a sip from the pint of rum he held. “Why not Clouseau? You know? From the Pink Panther?”

  “You mean fuckin’ Clue No, huh?” Outlaw snickered, drawing on a joint, then passing it to Mortician. “Howfuckinever, the motherfucker ain’t part of the fuckin’ club, so he don’t need a new fuckin’ name.”

  “He has a new attitude, Prez,” Mortician countered, handing the weed to Digger, “so he need a new identity.”

  “Would you want a road name?” Johnnie asked, sipping from a bottle of whisky.

  “Double-oh-fuckin-zero,” Outlaw suggested, nudging Mortician, both of them laughing. “Triple Zee.”

  “Let me guess,” Knox said with sarcasm. “Triple Zee for zero.”

  “You might have a fuckin’ brain after-fuckin-all,” Outlaw said, sounding truly impressed, as if he thought Knox a moron.

  “I like Sherlock or Watson,” Johnnie said. “Maybe, even, Magnum P.I. or Dick Tracy.”

  “Okay, why all the fucking cop names?” Knox demanded. “Why can’t I be Bull or Horse or Gator? I even like Warbucks.”

  Outlaw glared at him. “I take my fuckin’ words back. You still a stupid motherfucker.”

  “The road name reflects your personality, Knox,” Cam explained.

  “Then why aren’t all of you named Outlaw?” Knox asked, laughing at his own wit.

  Digger shoved him. “You not funny.”

  Knox jerked away from Digger’s reach. “How can you make fun of me but I can’t make fun of you?”

  “Cuz you mean what the fuck you say, motherfucker,” Outlaw answered.

  “Really?” Knox responded. “And you don’t mean it when you call me Clue No?”

  “Sure the fuck do cuz you a clueless motherfucker. That fit your fuckin’ personality, too.”

  “Give him a break, fellas,” Cam said mildly. “This is all new to Wafer. You know? Wafer? As in he already has a road name?”

  Nodding, Knox smiled at Cam, grateful for his friend’s defense.

  “You ain’t gettin’ a cut, so we can call you fuckbag for all I give a fuck.”

  “You’re too kind,” Knox said tightly.

  “Knox, you ready for your first lesson?” Mortician asked.

  Walking to his bike and waiting for Val to step out of his way, Knox nodded. “I was born ready.” He felt around the seat. Not finding the seatbelt, he stooped down to look for a hidden nook. When he didn’t see one, he stood and leaned over the seat to investigate the other side.

  “What the fuck you doin’?” Outlaw demanded.

  “Lookin’ for the seatbelt. What do you think? Just because you bozos gamble with your lives, it doesn’t mean I will.”

  “Seatbelt?” Mortician asked, his eyes wide, while Digger and Val bellowed with laughter.

  Knox nodded, glaring at the two hyenas. “Did I stutter, Mortician? I was going to have a deluxe one installed on the bike I really wanted.”

  “Ain’t no fuckin’
seatbelt on no fuckin’ bike, assfuck,” Outlaw snapped.

  When the words sunk into Knox’s brain, he paused, took in Outlaw’s aggravation and Cam’s embarrassment.

  “You a funny motherfucker, Knox,” Digger said, wiping his eyes.

  Grinning like an idiot, Val shook his head.

  “Fuck off,” Knox grumbled, then mounted, his feet touching the ground, his hands gripping the handlebars.

  “Where your gear?” Val asked in horror, all humor gone. “You can’t ride in no fucking trousers, loafers, and button down.”

  “Why not? I’ve seen others do it.”

  “Yeah, cuz others are stupid motherfuckers,” Outlaw retorted. He walked to Knox. “My jeans? They ain’t just fuckin’ jeans. They ridin’ jeans. It’s thicker material. Protect you if you go down, although the best fuckin’ protection leather. I wear full leathers when Ima be on a long fuckin’ trip. I alfuckinways got my fuckin’ gloves on. I wear fuckin’ boots cuz you fuckin’ go down, and boots bein’ the fuckin’ difference between bruisin’ skin or breakin’ bones. State law require fuckin’ helmets. Ain’t fuckin’ goin’ down cuz Ima stupid motherfucker, riskin’ my fuckin’ brains splatterin’ all over the fuckin’ road.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me I needed gear?” Knox snapped. “And I’ve seen you ride out of here without a helmet, Outlaw.”

  “You ain’t fuckin’ ask what the fuck else you need. And, yeah, when I ain’t goin’ fuckin’ far, I ride without a helmet. I even a-fuckin-llow Megan to do it. You ain’t experiencin’ real freedom ‘til you feel the fuckin’ wind blowin’ the fuck in your hair. That don’t make the shit right.”

  “So what now? I can’t take one drive because I’m wearing clothes I normally wear?”

  “Don’t fuckin’ insult us,” Outlaw ordered. “Don’t never let me hear you fuckin’ say you drivin’ a goddamn bike. You ridin’ the motherfucker. Case fuckin’ closed.”

  “Bruh, you rode a bike decent?” Digger asked.

  “Of course. I’m a cross-country cyclist.”

  Grabbing Val’s bottle of rum, Digger leaned on Mortician and took a sip of the alcohol. “You just got fucking Olympian skills at everything you fucking do, huh?” He belched.

  Val snatched his bottle from Digger.

  Mortician shoved him away. “Get the fuck off me, fool, with your nasty ass.”

  Laughing, Digger came up to Knox and put his hand around his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Knox. I washed my fingers after I took them out Bunny pussy.”

  “If I was you, Harrington, I’d knock that motherfucker away from my fuckin’ shoulders,” Outlaw advised.

  Grimacing, Knox did as suggested, smiling when the other men laughed. Digger more than anyone. He was enjoying the fuck out of himself.

  “Ignore my fingers,” he hooted. “If you know how to bike ride, you should have a reasonable amount of balance. Ride to the edge of the parking lot and back. Don’t go too fucking fast or you going to regret not having the proper clothes on.”

  “I’m not going to fall,” Knox said with confidence as Cam hurried forward and touched Knox’s shoulder, blurting, “I think you should wait.”

  “No, Cam. I’m fine.”

  Raising his hands, Cam stepped back. “Okay. Just don’t kill yourself.”

  “My ass fuckin’ advisin’ against this,” Outlaw said.

  “Of course you are. You think I’m a brainless idiot.”

  “Nope. I think you a stupid motherfucker.”

  Knox glared at Outlaw, then, keeping one foot planted on the ground, lifted himself up, pumped the pedal and squeezed the hand grips. The bike teetered, then tipped in the direction of the kickstand and stood still. He then repeated the steps three times, ignoring Cam’s pained look, Johnnie’s bowed head and Outlaw’s shock, and tuning out Val, Digger, and Mortician’s guffaws.

  “Why won’t it start?” Knox finally panted, sweat pouring down his face.

  “Get the fuck off that fuckin’ bike, Knox,” Outlaw commanded, disgust clear in his voice.

  “No! I’m taking that ride.”

  Clearing his throat, Cam stepped forward. “Where’s your key fob?”

  “In my pock…” His voice trailed off as realization dawned on Knox. “I have to start it.”

  “You also gotta take the goddamn stand the fuck off, assfuck.”

  “Won’t I fall?”

  “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, who the fuck raised you?” Outlaw snarled.

  “Knox, just listen,” Cam said. “Think. This is a motorized bike. Can you ride a bicycle with its stand down?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Why do you think you could ride a motorcycle if it’s not out of the way?” Cam pressed.

  “This isn’t fully automatic? Once I start the bike and take off, it doesn’t do the rest of the work for me?”

  “NO!” all the guys chorused.

  Scowling, Outlaw stomped forward, grabbed Knox by the collar and yanked him off the bike, shoving him out of the way. “Look the fuck at what my ass doin’.”

  Knox dusted himself off. After Cam’s earlier conversation and the humiliation rising in him now, he decided to take Outlaw’s advice.

  “This ain’t no goddamn competition,” he chastised. “You ain’t gotta show whether or not your nuts bigger than any of us motherfuckers. We here to fuckin’ help you. Now, give me the fuckin’ fob and watch me.”

  Passing along the fob, Knox studied Outlaw closely. He removed the stand, then planted both boots on the ground, steadying the bike with ease. After lighting a cigarette, he touched different mechanisms, then thumbed a button and the bike flared to life.

  He jammed the cigarette in the corner of his mouth, gave Knox a pointed look, grabbed the grips and started forward in one smooth motion. He rode the bike to the edge of the parking lot, then sped past where they all stood and went to the other end, before taking a full spin around the place. When he finished, he glided to a stop, stared at Knox, then rose from the seat, leaving the engine idling.

  Intimidated, Knox stared at the bike. Outlaw had made it look so easy and smooth. The man rode with a fluidity that impressed Knox and also told him he didn’t have the qualifications to do the same.

  The sound of sudden silence drew his attention.

  Folding his arms, Mortician sighed. “I got a fucking joke for you.”

  Knox swallowed, then nodded, for the first time feeling as if he fought a losing battle. If he got on the bike, he’d fall and they’d laugh at him.

  “God called Satan and told him he had some motherfuckers that just wasn’t acting like they belonged in Heaven,” Mortician started. “He told Satan he had to send them to Hell. Having no choice, Satan told God to send them on. So the motherfuckers get there. They immediately start acting the fuck up. After a week, Satan calls God and says, “God, I got to send these motherfuckers back. They complaining about the living conditions down here. Stirring unrest among all the other motherfuckers. God said, ‘Satan, I sent them to you for a reason. They’re your problem. You deal with them’. Annoyed, the devil hung up the fucking phone. The next week, Satan telephoned God again. ‘Lord, you got to help me. The people you sent to me have been stealing from me. Some of my gold is missing. My coin collection gone. What am I supposed to do? Again, God said, Devil, you’re in charge of them. They are your problem. Frustrated, Lucifer hung up the phone. The next week, that old pitchfork-wielding bastard had had enough. God had to take these people back now. Furious, he dialed God’s number. ‘Yes, Devil, what can I do for you this week’? ‘God!’ Satan screeched. “I’m not keeping them any longer. These motherfuckers just put out my fire.”

  Chuckles rose up around him. Knox didn’t want to laugh, but he did at the unexpected punchline. None of them, not even Cam, seemed affected by the disrespect of it all. They found humor wherever, and whenever, they could.

  “See, Knox?” Outlaw offered into the silence, smoking yet again. “It ain’t nothin’ but a thing. If you wanna learn to ride a
fuckin’ bike, take a deep fuckin’ breath and learn. We was all scared our first time. You got unmatchable power between your thighs—and I ain’t talkin’ cocks cuz that shit a given. A bike, the road, un-fuckin-forgivin’. You gotta pay attention, but you still gotta have fuckin’ fun. We ain’t here to judge you. We here to fuckin’ help you. How many fuckin’ times I gotta tell you that?”

  “Knox, son, it’s like this. I see what you doing to win my momma-in-law back. I respect that. I also realize you just talk out the side of your goddamn mouth because you don’t know how to back the fuck down. But Roxanne—”

  “Knox!” As if speaking her name conjured her up, Roxanne ran at breakneck speed from the pathway that led to the houses. She skidded to a halt, out-of-breath.

  “Roxanne, baby, what’s the matter?” he asked, alarmed at her condition. He rushed to her, automatically wrapping her in his arms when she hugged him. “What’s happened?”

  “What are you doing?” she demanded, pushing away from him. “You’re going to kill yourself! Why the fuck would you buy a bike?”

  Keeping Roxanne in his arms, Knox glared at the circle of men. “Who betrayed me?” No one responded, so he turned back to Roxanne and took her face between his hands. “You weren’t supposed to find out until after I learned.”

  “Oh, Knox. Don’t do this for me. I don’t want you to learn to ride a bike to impress me. It’s not about that. It’s about your attitude.”

  “Roxanne, please,” he begged. “I love you so much. Please…just…” He huffed in a breath, close to tears. “I want to be able to drive—”

  Outlaw growled.

  “Er ride you around every now and then. I want to make you happy. If you just…please, just give me a chance.”

  She laughed through her tears. “You’re such a motherfucker, Knox.”

  He smiled at her. “But I’m a motherfucker you love.”

  Not denying it, she glanced away.

  “Can we just talk? Please.”

  She met his gaze. “Okay. We can talk. But I’m making no promises.”

  “Fair enough, sweetheart.”

  Wrapping his arm around Roxanne’s waist, he smiled at the claps and whistles. Maybe, he’d learn to ride, after all, finally understanding the camaraderie and brotherhood that made these men so close.