Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  “John Peter.”

  Johnnie paused at the sound of his grandfather’s voice. He squinted, his wild haze blurring everything. He turned the gun to his grandfather, sweat popping out of him, clinging to his body. It mingled with the dampness of the blood and made his shirt stick to him. Logan wasn’t vulnerable and frail now. No, he was him, the man who’d shattered his entire world. The man who’d made him suffer with the burdens of too many secrets.

  “What’s he doing in here?” He thrust his chin toward the body. The stupid fucker who’d yanked Johnnie back into the darkness. “He’s a Torp, isn’t he?”

  Logan’s steady words and calm demeanor nauseated Johnnie. He didn’t care that Johnnie had the shotgun pointed to his head.

  “We need to get him out of here. Leave him somewhere so they can find him. He could’ve gone to the club and shot it up.” He shrugged. “Harmed Christopher’s boy. He’s how old? Eight, nine months? One shell would’ve blasted him to smithereens.”

  Little Man. Jesus. Logan was…right. The dead asshole could’ve gone there and shot that baby.

  With a roar of pent-up fury, he turned the shotgun and squeezed the trigger, gratified at the explosion of flesh and hair and bone. Breathing heavy, he threw it down and it landed in the gore.

  “You’re brilliant, John Peter,” Logan complimented quietly, dragging on the cigar. “Perceptive. I would’ve gotten us killed. I’m so proud of you.”

  Johnnie glared at him. “Save your fucking compliments. I have to call Mortician and advise him to detain that fucking bitch if she comes in.”

  “I’ll call him. Would you check Caroline for me? I hope this man didn’t do her anything. Logic tells me she would’ve call down with the shots if she was okay.”

  It shocked him to hear his grandfather’s genuine concern for someone else other than him or Big Joe. He cleared his throat. “She’s probably too afraid to come out.”

  A long moment of heavy silence went by. And, then, “Or too dead.” Closing his eyes, Logan shuddered, as if the thought of the eighteen-year-old’s death was incomprehensible.

  “Okay.” John picked up the now-gory shotgun and started back up the staircase.

  “I’m glad you’re here. You’ve always had a heart and a soul.”

  “The fuck I have.”

  His grandfather was about to speak, but Johnnie waved him away impatiently.

  “I have a heart? So what does a man who doesn’t get off on killing assholes have?”

  “No feelings. You enjoy killing. So what? That’s a small quirk in your character. Most times, you have control.”

  Not wanting to listen to any more, he spun on his heel, not stopping when his grandfather called, “first door to the right”, just going and opening the door.

  “Motherfucker,” Johnnie snarled, rushing forward. The slight breeze the opening door caused swung the body hanging from the rope attached to the ceiling fan.

  But it was too late to do anything for her. She was lifeless and colorless.

  And very, very dead.

  Chapter 9

  Later that afternoon, Kendall walked into the main room at the Death Dwellers’ clubhouse, surprised to find it almost empty once again. At least Johnnie was there, though, and she’d get another chance to become the club’s attorney.

  All afternoon, she practiced what she’d say to Johnnie, in between glancing at the ultrasound photos of Baby Biker. Her baby. Johnnie’s baby.

  Focus, Kendall.

  Yes, she could focus. For now, she had her baby and her baby’s father. She drew the strength she needed for her little sister from them, pushing everything else aside.

  Today, she was Kendall Miller, attorney-at-law and mother-to-be.

  She’d get him into bed to soften him up, then beg for the position. She’d swear she’d left Spoon alone. Anything. Anything. As long as Spoon allowed her to speak to Caroline. He’d told her if she had a good report tonight, he’d let her Skype her little sister.

  Mortician noticed her first and his eyes widened. He gave her the slightest shake of the head—some type of signal—before clearing his throat and leaning forward, grabbing Johnnie’s cut and yanking him close. “Yo’, John Boy.”

  “What the fuck’s wrong with you, asshole?” Johnnie snapped, wrenching himself away.

  “Nothing.” He leaned close again and signaled the door to Kendall while straightening his cut distracted Johnnie. “I need some advice on Bailey. I’m like real close to taking her pussy and I’ve been talking to my dick, but the motherfucker not listening. He want Bailey’s pussy. Like fucking bad.”

  Words were flying out of his mouth, faster than Kendall had ever heard him speak. Granted, she’d only been in his company a couple times but he was always laid-back whenever she was around him.

  A heavy silence settled around her. She transferred her gaze from Mortician to Johnnie and cringed. Johnnie was staring at her. The rage darkening his eyes and tightening his mouth made her stumble back.

  “Erm, I-I’ll come back another time,” she squeaked. “Sorry to bother you. I’ll just disappear right now.”

  Johnnie roared to his feet and stalked toward her. “Oh, you’re going to fucking disappear, all right,”

  Mortician glared at her and rolled his eyes, but he didn’t try to halt Johnnie.

  “Please, stop!” Begging. That’s all her life had become.

  “Go the fuck outside and walk it out, John Boy,” Mortician advised, somehow managing to intercept Johnnie and turning to her. “Pick up on a motherfucker’s signals, Red,” he whispered.

  He began patting her down and she didn’t care, shrinking back at the violent fury Johnnie directed at her. Mortician spun her around, throwing her arms up, ignoring her shakes. “Don’t need your sociopathic alter ego to visit right now.”

  Johnnie paced in front of her and scraped his hair back. “You’re not only a traitor, you’re a fucking idiot.”

  “I am not!”

  “If I was you, I’d shut the fuck up.” Mortician advised, searching her in a detached manner, not trying to steal a feel on any part of her body, just looking for…whatever. This was the second time he’d shown her such surprising courtesy. “Cooperate, girl.”

  “And if I don’t?” Kendall itched to run her fingers through Johnnie’s blond hair, repair the damage he’d caused when he’d gripped his hair in frustration. He closed in on her, in effect sandwiching her between him and Mortician. Johnnie’s intense regard, though, shielded sexual awareness of anyone else. Her breath hitched and her heart pounded, her face—her entire body—heating.

  Anger gleamed in his silver-gray eyes and a muscle ticked in his tautened jaw. “I don’t believe you want to find out, Kendall,” he whispered in a low growl, his breath fanning her neck.

  “If you’ll tell me why you’re so angry, I can explain.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about your story. Not after hearing what a fucking deceitful, underhanded cunt you are. You’re spying on us for Spoon? I gave you a fucking chance to explain. That chance passed the moment I discovered your duplicity.”

  Time. She needed time. Time to devise a plan to get away from the wrath of the Death Dwellers and time to get away from Spoon. Obviously, he’d betrayed her, so what did that mean for Caroline?

  “I only did it for my sister.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Kendall,” Johnnie snarled. “I don’t give a fuck about you, your sister. Anyone in your fucking family. An eighteen-year-old girl hung herself this afternoon, so whatever fucking problems you’re having—“ He shook, rage blazing from him. “I don’t care.”

  She didn’t have anything. Not her credit cards, her passport, her checkbook. Spoon had confiscated it all. And, most importantly, she didn’t have her sister. An eighteen-year-old killing herself hit too close to home. If someone didn’t get Caroline away soon, Kendall could see her little sister taking such drastic measures.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, suddenly believing these men had more
heart than Spoon and any of the Torpedoes put together. Spoon wouldn’t have cared about some random girl’s death, especially by her own hand. And she knew, firsthand, what he did when he went into his blind rages. As furious as he was, Johnnie wasn’t hurting her. And neither was Mortician. “I didn’t—“

  “Save it,” Johnnie snarled, backing away from her and balling his fists at his sides, like only strict self-control kept him from striking her.

  Desperate, she raised her hands in supplication. “Wh-what do I have to do in return for your protection?”

  Mortician snorted and Johnnie glanced over her shoulder, toward Mortician.

  He stared at her a moment before a wicked sparkle brightened his eyes, stealing away the anger and taking Kendall’s breath. Heat flashed in her veins at the slow smile curving his mouth.

  “You want to fuck?” he asked lazily, the chameleon in him making her pulse race.

  Until Spoon, she’d always had sex in exchange for something. In the beginning, she’d been excited by all the attention he’d paid to her. She’d thought it was because he truly liked her and—later—cared about her. How wrong she’d been. She’d never done one night stands and she didn’t offer services in exchange for money. She’d attach herself to men who were in the position to give her things. Sugar Daddies. Having sex with this gorgeous man in return for her life would be easy.

  She nodded, her heart sinking at Mortician’s snicker. He moved from behind her and halted next to Johnnie, folding his arms.

  “Who are you offering to fuck, Kendall? Me?” He nodded to Mortician. “Mort? Or both of us?”

  She didn’t want anyone to ruin how she’d felt with Johnnie and having someone else in bed with them would take away her fantasy that she meant something to him while she still carried his baby. She knew everything about their situation was a lie. It had been a lie with Spoon. When she’d been with Johnnie that one night he’d made her believe she was the most important woman in the world and the only one for him.

  But she wanted to live and, if she had to fuck both of them to save her life, she would. Mortician was beautiful himself, so at least that was something.

  “Well, girl?” Mortician asked, his smirk all-knowing.

  She swallowed. If she wanted them to believe her, she had to be honest with everything. But, Jesus, she was so afraid. Honesty had always come back to haunt her. “If…if I h-have to sleep with both of you,” she managed, horrified that more tears rushed to her eyes. “But…but I was talking about Johnnie.”

  They quieted, taking their time about lighting cigarettes and releasing the smoke once they’d taken a drag. She coughed. This time, there was no courtesy from either of them because they kept smoking and watching her, their silence unnerving.

  “What makes you think I want to fuck you again?” Johnnie asked after a moment.

  From his expression, Kendall knew he did.

  Johnnie stepped closer again, big and intimidating, in her personal space. It took everything in her to stand her ground. They might not let her live once she’d slept with him…them.

  “You’re a cold-blooded, fucking slut. Ready to fuck whichever brother you need to. When Outlaw refused to fuck you, you let me do it. If I refused to fuck you now, you’d let Mort do it.”

  He tipped her wobbling chin up, her feelings hurt because he had her pegged wrong. She wanted to shout that to him, but his opinion of her had already been formed and she couldn’t change it.

  Anger and tension radiated from Johnnie’s body. He took another drag and turned away from her to release the smoke, instead of blowing it right into her face.

  “This here’s the fucking deal about the issue of you and me fucking,” Mortician began, smirking at Johnnie, who scowled in return. “I’m better off letting John Boy tap that.”

  “And I might be better off kicking your fucking ass,” Johnnie growled, holding the cigarette between his long, thick fingers and gesturing to Mortician. “Take her the fuck away and get her ready for transport.”

  Mortician laughed, then grabbed her arm and started to turn her toward the door.

  She dug the heels of her sneakers in, struggling against the hold of Mortician. He wasn’t hurting her, per se. He just refused to release her. “Please? What are you going to do to me?”

  Johnnie stared at her, seeming to be waging a debate whether or not he’d explain things to her or let her stew in all types of awful imaginings. “He’s going to bring you to a shed. Find out what the fuck you know already and why the fuck you’re doing this.”

  “Wh-what? I’ll tell you. You don’t have to torture me.”

  He flicked his cigarette aside and gave her a hard look. His insulting perusal cut her like a sharp knife. He thought her little more than garbage. “He’s not going to give you his full treatment. Just enough to teach you a lesson.”

  The memories of all that Spoon had done to her rose in her head and she grew lightheaded, her tongue freezing in her head. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t even cry because she had to cut off every feeling, every thought, to get through what they intended for her. And to think, she’d believed them better than Spoon and the Torpedoes.

  “Since I can fuck you,” he went on in a chilling, offhanded tone, “I’ll bring you to my house. Tie you up…you’ll be my prisoner, after all…and fuck you some more.” He nodded, a signal. “Take her. Do whatever the fuck you want to her, then bound and gag her and throw her in my Navigator. I’ll be in the clubhouse until you’re done.”

  He stalked away, not giving Kendall a backward glance.

  Chapter 10

  Johnnie clenched his jaw and dug his fingers into the bar, refusing to turn and halt Mortician from carrying Kendall out. She was struggling too much to walk on her own and Johnnie guessed Mortician knew dragging her would be quite a stupid idea, so sweeping her into his arms was his only option.

  Scrubbing his hand over his eyes, Johnnie ignored her sobs. Not easy to do. She sounded so distressed. She deserved to have the fear of God put into her after the shit she’d done, starting off with throwing her pussy around on Spoon’s orders. Bitch.

  Fuck. It all infuriated Johnnie. This entire, fucked up day couldn’t get over soon enough. Now, he had a traitorous bitch he intended to bring to an isolated place until he ripped Spoon’s fucking throat out. Barring any other bullshit, he shouldn’t have her with him any more than twenty-four hours.

  Asshole. He scowled at the self-directed epitaph. He didn’t have to take Kendall anywhere, though. He especially didn’t have to get her alone in his house. If he wanted to detain her, he could do it here.

  No the fuck he couldn’t. Here was too close to Spoon, the Torpedoes, and Logan. Fuck his grandfather. The man was a goddamn devil. From the moment Johnnie had laid eyes on him, he’d been back in that place Logan kept him in, torn between loyalty and loathing, repulsion and fascination. Love and hate twisted his fucking insides and, if he wasn’t careful, he’d underestimate his grandfather’s frailties and overestimate his sincerity.

  His strange reaction over Caroline’s death hinted at the Logan Johnnie remembered. He wanted to obliterate having to cut her lifeless body down and carrying her downstairs. Logan’s shock had been genuine and a stillness had settled over him before anger had entered his eyes.

  “I thought she was stronger than that,” he’d muttered. “Take care of her. She has no next of kin, so bury her somewhere.”

  Just like that, his grandfather washed his hands of the girl. Whatever feelings he’d been capable of had evaporated when Caroline had taken her own life. Logan hated weakness and he’d see Caroline’s action as the ultimate flaw.

  Johnnie just had so many give-a-fucks in him and most of them were used up in all the other sordid shit, so he hadn’t stopped to consider what led her to take her own life.

  Now, though? Yes. Somewhat. He didn’t fucking know the girl, had never fucking seen her before today, but she was at a funeral home and Johnnie was responsible for the bill. He might’ve
been at the top of the fucked up list, but he wasn’t that fucked up. He couldn’t discard a girl, who hadn’t harmed anyone as far as he knew, using their usual modus operandi.

  He hadn’t searched for a suicide note because he’d had fucking work to do. Like getting Mortician and Digger to pick up that Torp’s body and help clean up the fucking blood before the funeral director arrived for Caroline’s body.

  “Do you have a full name for her?” the man had asked.

  “No.” He’d turned to Logan. “Grandda?”

  “Nope. Don’t even know Marie’s last name.”

  They’d been asked a couple more questions, none of which Johnnie or Logan could answer. Due to their suspicious behavior, the little asshole had brought in law enforcement. Another fucking complication Johnnie didn’t need. In turn, he’d called the officers on their payroll and asked them to do whatever needed doing to have her body released to Johnnie as soon as possible.

  “Did you kill her, Johnnie?” the tall, lanky one asked.

  Christopher referred to them as Mutt and Jeff. Johnnie called them Fat and Skinny. He’d scowled at the man. “What the fuck do you think, assfuck? We don’t fucking kill women, especially eighteen-year-old girls. She fucking hung herself.”

  “Then I don’t see the problem with calling us in,” Fat retorted, scribbling on the sheet of paper attached to his clipboard. He snickered. “Then, again, you fucks don’t like to be anywhere near law enforcement.”

  “Not real law enforcement, you crooked motherfucker,” Johnnie snapped. The fee they were charging was fucking astronomical.

  Fat bristled and opened his mouth, but Skinny elbowed him. “Okey dokey. We got everything under control. When can we expect our drop off?”

  “Within the hour after I know Caroline’s body is at the funeral home.”

  True to his word, as soon as Skinny made the call, Johnnie had taken money from his personal funds. He’d just returned when Kendall walked in and he’d fucking lost it.