Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  “Umkay.” Meggie’s feminine core burned with heat and she felt her body slickening. If she moved again, she was a moron but the idea of making love to him sent her hormones into overdrive. He seemed so sexual and so sure of himself. “Will you fit inside me?”

  “Motherfucker.” He shoved her away and jumped out of the bed. He thrust a hand through his hair and glared at her. “You lookin’ to get fucked, lil’ girl?”

  “No. Yes. I-I don’t know.”

  He paced for a minute before lighting a cigarette. “You ain’t been fucked before.”

  He almost made it sound like an accusation. She wished she hadn’t been worked over so she could return his glare. She stared at the ceiling, preferring to be fucked on her terms rather than her stepfather’s. “And?”

  “Who the fuck hit you?”

  “You’re not going to answer me?”

  “My answer would be relievin’ you of your virginity.”

  At least, her virginity would be relieved with someone she wanted.

  “And that ain’t a fuckin’ answer at all,” he went on.

  “Are you sure you’re a biker? You can be really sweet and considerate.”

  Somehow, her observation insulted him. He stiffened. “I ain’t no pussy, Megan.”

  “I didn’t mean–”

  “I just got sisters, nieces, and, most of all, a ma.”

  “Christopher–”

  He kicked the chair against the wall and she jumped, unable to stop her cry of fear. She shielded her head.

  “Stop callin’ me that!” He lit another cigarette and Meggie decided it helped to calm him. “I ain’t takin’ your pussy. Case fuckin’ closed.” He drew in deep breaths and changed the subject. “Tell me in your words why Rack worked you over like this? What did he say?”

  “You know?”

  “Contrary to what girly bullshit you got in your head ‘bout me, I live a hard, fast life. If I don’t know motherfuckers, I end up with a real fuckin’ knife in my back.”

  Her stomach sank along with her mood. “You think that’s what happened to my daddy?” she managed, envisioning her father in a situation where someone close to him had put a real knife in his back. She trembled and tears rushed to her eyes. She was just a wreck.

  “Stick to one motherfuckin’ subject at a time. You jumpin’ from one conversation to the next and we ain’t finished a-fuckin-one. Why did Rack–”

  “Do you think–”

  “I ain’t got time to fuckin’ run through scenes ‘bout why your old man ain’t here. He either turnin’ up or he ain’t and you gonna know.”

  “And I’ll know,” she echoed on a sob.

  “Fuck, Megan. Don’t cry.”

  The bed dipped again and the warmth of his nearness enveloped her. She sniffled, trying to control her tears but her confusion, fear, and pain made it difficult. She had no one. No matter how safe Christopher…Outlaw…him…no matter how he made her feel, he didn’t even want her to say his name in any of its forms. She’d never felt overwhelming sexual desire before, but she knew she wanted to be in his bed. Not that he cared what she wanted. Besides being cranky and disagreeable, he didn’t like her.

  He gathered her in his arms and she buried her nose in the crook of his neck, sobbing harder.

  OUTLAW GRITTED HIS TEETH AGAINST the feel of Megan in his arms and the sounds of her sobs. His dick throbbed and his tight balls ached. Fuck his conscience for beating him to a pulp. No matter how fucked up his past, he just couldn’t bring himself to do anything to hurt this girl. Boss’s daughter. Her presence should’ve had him jumping for fucking glee as another means to exact further revenge on the man who’d turned Outlaw’s life up-fucking-side down. However, he wasn’t that much of a dumb fuck. Fuckhead Foy was dead, so using his daughter for more revenge wouldn’t do nobody a whole fucking lot of good. It wasn’t like he was around to know and Outlaw knew Snake wouldn’t care since he’d known fuck-all about her existence.

  Megan’s fucking youth and innocence awakened a restless energy within himself. The way she said his name made him want to hear her say it while he moved deep inside of her. It made him remember how it felt to be called by the name his mother had gifted him with. She and his sisters were the only ones who called him ‘Christopher’. His grandparents had called him everything but a child of God, a fact he tried hard to forget.

  Something he’d never shared with anyone but Boss and his cousin, Johnnie. And, now, Megan. Fuck, he’d wanted her to know he wasn’t worth the time of day. He certainly wasn’t worth the way she looked at him. As beautiful and as smart as Boss always said his girl was, if Outlaw wasn’t careful, he’d be the motherfucker Megan drove insane.

  He didn’t want anyone to hurt her, including herself. He didn’t know much about self-injury, other than remembering one of the whores who came through the club did it.

  “You wanna fuckin’ die, you stupid slut?”

  Outlaw couldn’t believe the wild light in Boss’s eyes, directed at a woman who clearly needed kindness. He might not have understood why she was naked in the middle of Boss’s bed, holding a razor blade dripping with her own blood from the fresh cuts on her breasts and belly. They weren’t deep and he knew what she’d done because she’d once done it when she was with him. He’d smoked. She’d sliced.

  “Lemme take care of this bitch for you,” he offered. His heart pounded in his chest, hurt at how far gone Boss was. The man had been like a father to Outlaw and, now, drugs was eating Boss alive, taking his soul and all the compassion he’d ever had in him.

  Whatever else the Death Dwellers might be accused of, physically harming women wasn’t it. Boss kicked the shit out of any of the boys who hurt a woman. If it happened on the down low and Boss never found out about it, then fine.

  “Get the fuck outta here, Outlaw. I don’t need your fuckin’ help with this whore.”

  “You need to sleep it off, Prez. I promise you, Ima take Summer outta your way and give her a good talkin’ to.”

  Outlaw glanced at the girl, frozen in horror at being caught; Prez slid deeper into the pit of hell with each passing day, where no one escaped his drug-fueled wrath. Outlaw, Rack, or Snake barely reached him anymore.

  “You fuckin’ her? That’s why you wanna get her the fuck outta here?”

  Not anymore. Not that Outlaw would mention that or remind Boss most of the boys in the club had tapped Summer’s pussy. Outlaw wanted to see another sunrise. He wanted to find a way to help his idol and mentor.

  Raising his hands, he edged toward Summer, not wanting to play on Boss’s paranoia. His dilated eyes watched Outlaw. He’d lost a shitload of weight. He barely ate or slept. Outlaw covered for him, having to take over most of his duties. Though Outlaw and Snake danced around each other, they’d bonded for the common cause. The two of them, along with Rack, shielded their Prez, but it had to stop. He had to come back to himself.

  Slowly, Outlaw sat on the bed, feeling the weight of that intense stare. He wanted to look, make sure he wasn’t pulling his piece to blow Outlaw the fuck away, but the man would take even that as a challenge.

  Outlaw reached over and grabbed the razor blade from Summer’s trembling fingers. He did it quick. He wanted to do it all quick. Grab her and run the fuck away until…when Boss returned…FUCK…would Boss ever be normal again? Did the man even want to be? Grasping Summer’s arm, he dragged her to his lap.

  “She’s scared, Prez. I’m just doin’ the same thing you’d want somebody to do for your girl.”

  Boss’s eyes lit up. For a moment, Outlaw glimpsed his old hero, the one who put his daughter up on a pedestal. “My beautiful girl. What’s her name? I can’t remember her name. Her beautiful face. It’s all gone.” He chewed on his lip, his eyes filling with tears, and covered his face with his hands. All too briefly. He lowered them again and stepped forward. Tears tracked his gaunt cheeks, but pure hatred filled his eyes.

  Risking his own life, Outlaw stood with Summer in his arms. He’d never
felt a girl tremble with so much fear. He wanted to reassure her, tell her he’d get her out of here. But, then, Boss stepped in front of Outlaw, blocking his path and pulling his blade out of his boot. Before Outlaw could beg for Summer’s life, beg for Boss to remember his code, he’d slit her throat. As Outlaw held her. Blood poured from her and, if he moved his hand, her head might fall off with the deep, ear-to-ear slit.

  Boss backed away, threw his knife on the bed. “Now take her the fuck away,” he ordered and stormed out of the room.

  Jesus Christ. Megan cried for that man. Outlaw had known Boss’s treatment of those girls, but he’d never had to physically clean up after one of his rampages. He’d see Digger and Mortician’s haunted eyes, watch them lose themselves in women, weed, and booze. Wonder how they could do what they did to get rid of those women’s bodies on behalf of Boss. Then, he’d done it. Because he’d loved that motherfucker. Because he’d wanted Boss. Wanted the stupid fucker to recognize he had people in his corner. People who loved and needed him, and would do anything for him.

  Then, a few weeks later, he’d put Outlaw in that same position. Only this time, Outlaw had flat out denied him.

  “I ain’t buryin’ no more girls, Prez, and you ain’t killin’ no more either.”

  They were in the meeting room and Boss’d just called Outlaw out to go get the bitch from his bedroom for entertainment before disposing of her like they did Summer.

  Boss got right in his face. “You fucking sure about that, motherfucker. Maybe, I should fucking kill you and then any bitch I want.”

  Snake, Rack, Val, Mortician, and Digger were silent, shifting in their seats, swallowing, sweating. Praying. Outlaw should’ve known Boss was up to this shit when he’d given Sinner, Tex, and Guardian orders to make a run, then called the rest of them to church.

  “You fucking hear me, motherfucker? Now, you go get that bitch, so we can fuck her and then bury her.”

  Outlaw swallowed, his hands flexing to keep from reaching for his piece. He could deny, as much as he wanted, Boss would never hurt him, but Outlaw knew better. After seeing Boss’s destruction over the past months, he realized Boss stood a hair’s breadth from putting him to ground.

  “Sorry, Prez. I ain’t mean to tell you what to do. Killin’ girls ain’t us.” It ain’t you, Outlaw wanted to add.

  He’d seen some scary motherfuckers and stood up to them, but, Jesus, the maniacal light in Boss’s eyes frightened him. In that moment, he knew. One or both of them would die. Boss was too far gone, had too much innocent blood on his hands and wanted more. It didn’t motherfucking matter whose blood he spilled, either.

  Boss thumped his chest. “I’m not asking you to kill those sluts. I do the killing. You do the disposal.”

  Outlaw backed away, his heart shattering into millions of pieces. He wanted to live. He wanted Boss to live. He wanted everything to be the same as before. Because, if he somehow managed to get out of this with both their lives intact, he was turning in his patch. And that hurt as much as anything. This club represented everything to him. His fucking entire life.

  “Now go get the bitch.”

  Rack stood. “Boss, calm down. Give the brother a break. I’ll get the fucking bitch for you and do to her whatever you want me to afterwards.”

  “I want this asshole. My VP,” he sneered. “I chose this motherfucker over my own flesh and blood.” He pulled his gun and shoved it against the bridge of Outlaw’s nose. “He owes me. You all fucking owe me.”

  “Dad, put your shit away. You’ll never fucking forgive yourself if you hurt this motherfucker.”

  Even the pretense of Snake and Outlaw having a friendship was stripped away. They’d always tolerated each other to make Big Joe happy.

  “I chose you, Christopher,” Boss screamed. “You told me the fuck like it was. I respected that. You were a man of your word and cow towed to no one.” Spit slid from the sides of his mouth, the hand holding the gun shaking. “But if you defy me, you’re a dead fuck. I’m sick of your bullshit anyway. Whining about me and what I need to do. FUCK YOU. I do what the fuck I wanna do.”

  After a tense moment, he lowered the gun and everyone breathed a collective sigh. Boss narrowed his eyes, studied each man, then laughed and pulled Outlaw into a chokehold, his idea of affection. “I love ya, boy. You’re like a second son to me.” He thrust his chin toward the door. “I think I’m gonna get some rest. We’ll party another time.”

  Unless they had church or support clubs were visiting, no one hung out in the main room much anymore. Nowadays, they partied in small groups and in the rooms of the brothers who lived on premises. Most of the brothers had even given up their old ladies to keep the bitches safe. Boss was a loose cannon and no one wanted to set him off. After the near disaster in the boardroom, everyone scattered. Outlaw was exhausted, though, and he wanted to be alone. He didn’t want to see or hear no bullshit.

  How unfortunate for him.

  Just when the alcohol and Aunt Mary started buzzing through him, a girl’s scream ripped through the quiet. What the fuck was going on now? Grabbing his nine, he sprinted out the door and down the hall toward the sounds. He skidded to a halt and stared at the half opened door.

  Boss’s room.

  Fuck.

  “No! Stop! It hurts. Please, please, please.”

  “Open, you little slut.”

  The next scream went through Outlaw and he knew he had to breach the lion’s den. This girl sounded so fucking young. Too young. He didn’t know how he knew it because he’d dealt with bitches who were eighteen and nineteen, thanks to Boss. But Summer was the oldest bitch Boss had been with in a while and she’d been twenty-two.

  “Help me! Please!”

  The unmistakable sound of flesh connecting with flesh decided Outlaw. He opened the door fully and stepped in. On the bed, Boss lay between a pair of pale white legs, his pants still on, just pulled down. With each thrust, the girl screamed and Outlaw gripped his nine, knowing he had to be ready to fire, even though he kept his hand slack at his side.

  He cleared his throat. “Yo, Prez.”

  Big Joe went still and looked over his shoulder, his weight bearing down on the female beneath him.

  “Get the fuck out.”

  “This ain’t our style,” he said quietly. “You hurtin’ her. I heard her screams down the hall.”

  Boss pulled away and roared to his feet, bringing up his pants as he did. Before he closed his fly, Outlaw saw Boss had as much blood on his dick as the girl had smeared on her thighs. Grabbing his .45 from the nightstand and stuffing it in his waistband, Boss stalked to Outlaw.

  One glance at the trembling girl on that bed told him all he needed to know. He’d been in enough bitches to recognize when he saw one who shouldn’t have some dirty old motherfucker using her the way Boss had. He hoped the gun stuffed in his pants went off and blew his fucking dick off.

  Outlaw hated Joseph Foy, in that moment. He couldn’t take this shit anymore. First thing tomorrow, he’d turn in his VP patch and stomp on his fucking cut.

  Boss cold-clocked Outlaw, who’d been so lost in his thoughts he never saw it coming. Before Outlaw had a chance to recover, Boss hit him again, sending him to his knees.

  He gripped handfuls of his hair. “I told you stay out my shit.”

  Fighting to remain conscious, Outlaw’s hold on his gun tightened. “Let her go. I doubt she even legal.”

  “She’ll be legal in about four years,” Boss sneered. “That ain’t your fucking business.”

  Outlaw wanted to argue, but the time for arguing had passed. It all happened too quick and, yet, the girl’s head exploding, Boss turning the gun to Outlaw, and Outlaw raising his own piece and pulling the trigger while diving for cover seemed to go in slow motion. Painful, heartbreaking, life-changing slow motion with no rewind button to do shit over, to make whatever had gone wrong right. To bring this girl back.

  But it was too late now. She was dead.

  And Boss was dead.r />
  Outlaw blinked and snapped back to the present, wanting to forget everything about Joseph Fucking Foy. But, now, his beautiful girl needed him and Outlaw didn’t fucking know what to do with her. If he could fucking hate that motherfucking Boss a little more, he did just then.

  Sighing, he buried his hand in her beautiful golden hair. He needed to get her the fuck away but he didn’t know where he’d put her. She made him weak and regretful. He’d always liked his given name but it just didn’t fit in these surroundings. And, his sir name, he fucking detested. He closed his eyes and kissed the top of her head.

  “What happened with you and Rack?” he persisted.

  “He c-came there…um…” She sniffled and sat up, her firm little ass grinding against his cock. “How long have I been here?”

  “Two days.” Two days of hell, too. He’d gotten just about fuck all done. She’d been feverish, racked with shivers and coughs, and thrashing through nightmares. He’d kept her cooled off with wet towels, dribbled water in her mouth, and acted like a nurse.

  Though pale, she was awake and Christopher took that as a good sign.

  She swiped the back of her hand over her red, runny nose and nodded. “Then, three nights ago. You told him about going after me for the money.”

  “Yeah,” he confirmed, studying her bruised and battered face. “What you did, stealin’ his money, wasn’t good but it was only five dollars, and after you told him what you wanted the bucks for, he shoulda pulled back. No, he shoulda fuckin’ gave you more money so you could get somethin’ decent to eat.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Wait. You sayin’ that motherfucker hunted you down or some shit?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. When he saw me he was really angry.”

  Outlaw’s mind spun. He needed to get Rack the fuck out of the Death Dwellers, but he had a lot of the brothers in his corner and, if Outlaw disappeared Rack, he might face even more anarchy. He didn’t consider himself a bitch ass punk, but, fuck him, it took a heart of steel and balls the size of an elephant to run this shit. And he’d been fucked in the head for months, losing more and more control of everything because of all the hatred he carried for Big Joe.