Christopher knew there wouldn’t be. Not because Johnnie had told him but because Johnnie had gone through great measures to hide those payments and no one had ever discovered them. No one would’ve known without Logan’s reappearance.
“I ain’t got fuck all to hide. You wanna check my personal fuckin’ records? John Boy’s? Any of us on the board?”
Shuffles and mumbles, low talking.
“Arrow?” Christopher called.
Arrow flushed.
“We went through a lot of fuckin’ shit these past three years,” Christopher continued. “This chapter, your mother chapter, especially. Lotta fuckin’ turnovers. But we survived it. If we wanna keep survivin’, we gotta trust each other.” He shifted, lit another cigarette, puffed from it. “Otherwise, what the fuck good are we as a club? We might as well shut the shit down.”
“What?” Johnnie bit out. Everything he’d done and gone through to keep the club together in Christopher’s absence and he thought to dismantle it? “Is that what you want, Outlaw?”
“Fuck no, John Boy,” Christopher answered without hesitation, “but we either fuckin’ brothers or we fuckin’ go the fuck our separate ways. Ain’t no fuckin’ use havin’ a club where no motherfucker trust the other.”
“We could always vote you out, too, Outlaw,” a voice from the back called, lost in the standing room only crowd.
“You could,” Christopher agreed. “That’s up to you, motherfuckers. Another turnover just gonna leave the Dwellers vulnerable. Motherfuckers on the outside gonna think we can’t handle our shit.”
“You sick fuck,” Arrow growled, sitting down and snapping his mouth shut.
No one said anything else, slowly directing their gazes to Christopher, who turned a satisfied smirk to Johnnie. In-club bullshit bypassed.
Shaking his head, Johnnie smiled and nodded.
“Okay, now that you motherfuckers settled that, can we just get to the fuckin’ vote? We usin’ energy gripin’ at each other when we could be out fuckin’ up some Torps.”
Kendall hadn’t wanted to come to the offices of Romain, Redding, and Stanley after eight in the morning, but she’d awakened late due to the little sleep she’d gotten. Actually, Johnnie had gotten her up because church was scheduled and all women needed to be off the premises.
He’d insisted she take Christopher’s supped up pickup. It had tinted windows, a huge engine, spikes on the wheels, and winged skeletons on each side. Added to the truck’s spectacular showing, Johnnie had a man following her. He called him Fat and said his partner, Skinny, guarded Megan, Dinah, and Little Man.
Still, she hadn’t left until after nine and it had taken a little over half an hour to arrive at the offices. The receptionists, legal aides, and secretaries had already gotten to work. Now, they passed the defense department, what Brooks called the Double D and Kendall referred to as the Pentagon, to gawk at her.
No one asked her anything, which she preferred. Amy, the receptionist in the front office, had widened her eyes when Kendall asked for Brooks, then directed her back to the area with the defense attorneys. Brooks’s specialty. One time, it had been Kendall’s, too.
She’d been waiting for hours and would’ve left if Outlaw hadn’t given her twenty-four hours to get Brooks to come to the club.
“Kendall?” Brooks’s voice cut into her thoughts and Kendall snapped her head up.
She looked up at her mentor—former mentor—not surprised at his pin neat appearance and designer suit. Assurance and authority radiated from him.
“What are you doing here?”
She listened for a welcoming note, but couldn’t discern one. Her heart banging in her chest, Kendall got to her feet. “I’m here to see you.”
“After telling me you got employment elsewhere with…what…? A few hours’ notice?”
“I-I didn’t tell you anything,” she stammered.
His lips tightened. “I assure you you did,” he snapped.
“It wasn’t me. I-I mean it w-was…probably.” She frowned and drew in a deep breath. She had no memories of the first few days after arriving at the house Spoon had taken her to. Quite possibly, they’d made her call Brooks and tender her resignation. “I don’t know,” she whispered, desperation creeping into her voice.
Brooks contemplated her before grabbing her elbow and ushering her toward his office. “Hold my calls,” he barked over his shoulder. He unlocked the door and pulled Kendall inside, then slammed it shut. “Now, talk to me, Kendall. Tell me what’s going on.”
Taking a moment to compose herself and shrinking beneath the intensity of Brooks’s glare, Kendall gripped her purse and stumbled to the sofa. The familiarity of her surroundings comforted her, although she didn’t think she’d feel the same way if she’d gone into her old office.
“Kendall?”
She could do this. Brooks had every right to be angry with her. He believed she’d acted irresponsibly after he’d stood by her and given her a chance to work here.
She heaved in a breath, studied the four abstract paintings. Brooks loved to test everyone’s logic, find the known in the unknown. He could discover a family of unicorns, soaring eagles, disgruntled children in the abstract art he collected when it drove Kendall crazy. She saw a bunch of paint spattered onto a canvas that dripped everywhere.
Brooks leaned against his rosewood desk inlaid with ivory, and folded his arms. Crossing his ankles, he curved a finger over his mouth, resting the other hand in the crook of his arm.
Kendall squirmed beneath his deep study.
“Talk to me,” he repeated, moderating his tone.
“I didn’t call…” Her voice trailed off and she glanced over his shoulder to the Downtown Portland skyline. She raised her hands in supplication, unable to hold back her misery. Before she stopped herself, it all spilled from her—Caroline’s abduction, Spoon’s demand for her to seduce Outlaw, Spoon’s assault, Marie’s suicide, her own captivity. And everything else—her biker and her Baby Biker. Logan Donovan. Caroline’s hanging.
And, finally, Outlaw’s demand for Brooks to visit the clubhouse.
She hadn’t meant to go into such detail, but didn’t know a right or wrong approach. Too late, she realized she hadn’t been ready to leave the safety of the club. She was ill-prepared to enjoy the fresh air again or find a physician for the baby. Her near-miss with Spoon and Reni chipped away the little peace she’d managed to steal. She wasn’t ready for sunshine or laughter or happiness.
She only felt anger or bitterness or self-pity. Everyone refused to understand how broken she felt, that she’d spent almost her entire life fighting demons, dealing with weight and height and acceptance. Just when she’d gotten to a place in her life where she’d felt useful—her career—Spoon snatched it from her.
Maybe, that’s why she made Megan Caldwell the target of her anger and bitterness; Mortician as her guru; Johnnie as the object of her desire. They made her feel. And she wanted to feel. Because she wanted to live and not just exist.
Brooks sat next to her and pulled her into his arms, laying her head on his shoulder. “I’ve called Charlotte,” he said gruffly, referring to his wife. “You aren’t alone, anymore, Kendall. We’re here for your.” He stroked her hair with all the tenderness of a father with one of his daughters. “The three of us will figure out what to do, but don’t mention my involvement with the Torps to her. Once she leaves, we’ll discuss exactly what Outlaw wants. Perhaps, it’s time I got law enforcement involved and—“
“No, Brooks, please,” she cried, jerking away from him and grabbing his hands, her concern for Johnnie ending up in jail overriding everything else. “You can’t. Outlaw…Johnnie—“
“Don’t concern yourself over my safety, my dear. I knew exactly what I was doing when I got involved with Spoon, so I’ll go to the police with the full knowledge I’m putting my life in danger.”
She flushed, embarrassed she hadn’t thought of harm befalling Brooks. She snatched her hands away an
d dropped them into her lap. “Wh-why did you…I-I mean get involved with the Torpedoes?”
If he hadn’t, then she wouldn’t be in the current situation. That included meeting Johnnie and getting pregnant.
He shrugged, adjusted his tie. “Risky investments led to financial losses for the company. Our losses led to deep debt. The money the Torpedoes offered…we couldn’t pass it up. It was the quickest way to recover and save our law firm.” Sighing, he stood and paced to the window. “I’ve regretted it more than once,” he admitted over his shoulder. “We all have. What’s done is done. We’ve learned from our mistakes, so we pick up the pieces and move on.”
“Brooks?”
He turned and lifted a brow in response.
“Would you consider not going to the police, especially on Johnnie and his club?”
“You really care for this person, don’t you?”
She nodded and pressed her hand against her belly.
Brooks’s lips thinned in disapproval. “I’m risking my life if I go there and don’t say what they want to hear. You do understand that?”
“I don’t think—“
“Don’t be naïve, Kendall,” he scoffed, stalking to his desk and dropping into the custom made leather chair. “I’m on the enemy’s team.”
“Are you?” she whispered, bewildered. “Didn’t you hear what Spoon did to Caroline and me?”
“Every word.” Elbows on desk, gold and diamond cufflinks gleaming, he studied her. “I’ll go to the meeting and listen to what they have to say only if you’re in attendance with me. I’m going to assume you have some influence over your baby’s father since you’re willingly asking me to endanger my life.”
Her next thought panicked her. “If you don’t go, Outlaw will still kill you.”
“Not if he’s behind bars.”
“He’ll make bail.”
Brooks scowled at her. “Fine, Kendall. Just pray I say the right things to walk out of the clubhouse in the same condition I’ll arrive. Alive.”
Chapter 9
A few hours later, in the boardroom at the clubhouse, nausea kicked up in Kendall’s belly after she, along with Johnnie, Outlaw, Digger, Val and Brooks finished viewing the photos of all the young, naked girls Logan had pinned up on a clothesline in Megan’s kitchen.
She was grateful her and Caroline’s photos had not been laid out, suspecting they were in the manila envelope laying on the table in front of Outlaw.
Brooks sat silent. Earlier today, after Charlotte had arrived and Brooks explained Kendall’s ordeal, they’d been more than a little outraged on her behalf and even hinted at giving her another shot in the law firm when she felt ready. If she ever would.
When Kendall had walked into the club and found it much less crowded than it had been the past couple days, Outlaw had taken one look at Brooks and nodded to her. “Good job, Kendall.”
Now, twenty minutes later, Brooks gathered the ugly photos and stacked them facedown. “What do you want with me?”
“You either fuckin’ in with us or you in with Spoon. What I want is fuckin’ allegiance. I want Spoon and his fuckheads’ hideouts. Any we might’ve fuckin’ missed.”
Brooks rubbed his chin but Kendall cleared her throat. “I tried to explain to Outlaw attorney-client privilege.”
Johnnie frowned at her; Digger shook his head as if he told her to shut up; Val sighed; and Outlaw ignored her, keeping a steady gaze on Brooks. Stretch bit down on his lip, not speaking. Kendall wondered how the quiet and reserved man fit in with these brutes.
“Do I have a choice?” Brooks questioned after a moment.
Outlaw placed a gun on the table and Kendall gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.
“What the fuck you think, Reddin’?” Outlaw asked with a cold smile.
One, quick knock on the door before it swung open and Megan stepped inside, halting when she noticed Kendall.
“What’s she doing in here, Christopher?” she screeched. “You’ve never allowed me in.”
Christopher scowled at her and got to his feet. “You ain’t a fuckin’ attorney, Megan.”
Kendall straightened her shoulders. She kept her lids lowered, though. She didn’t need anyone recognizing her gloating.
“What’s going on?” Megan continued, not getting the hint she wasn’t welcomed.
“You know fuckin’ better then to question me about club business, baby,” he said gruffly, moderating his irritation. He beckoned her over, bent and kissed her when she reached him. “Where the fuck you been all day?”
“Out.”
“Out? Just out? Ditchin’ the fucking guards I have for you and shit. Since when we start keepin’ our whereabouts a secret?”
Megan shrugged. “I needed to think.”
Outlaw thrust his hands through his hair. “Cut the bullshit. Okay, baby? I’ll be in the room in a little while so we can fuckin’ talk about whatever the fuck you needed to think on and why the fuck you got away from them motherfuckers who supposed to be watchin’ you.”
Her mouth tipped up in a sad smile. “You’re busy, so don’t worry about me. I-I’m fine. Getting Spoon is more important.” She nodded to the manila envelope. “Besides, I’ve decided I have to work through this on my own.”
“You been actin’ fuckin’ strange for fuckin’ days. Wanna fuckin’ tell me about that?”
Her jaw clenched. “No.”
“Megan, we need to get this meeting finished,” Johnnie said with barely restrained impatience. “Brooks has a family to get home to, so, I’m with Christopher.”
“Shut up, John Boy,” Christopher warned. “You want me to punch the fuck outta you again?”
Megan backed away. “I’m tired, so I’m…good night.”
“Get fuckin’ back here, Megan.”
She didn’t respond, just walked away, and closed the door quietly behind her.
“Will she ever fuckin’ listen to me?”
“No,” Val, Digger, and Johnnie chorused.
“She fuckin’ right, though,” he said after a moment, then pointed to Kendall.
“Get the fuck out.”
“Just a moment, Caldwell,” Brooks said at the same time Johnnie growled, “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Shouldna fuckin’ let her in here in the first fuckin’ place. She fuckin’ you which mean she a fuckin’ old lady which mean she on the wrong fuckin’ side of the fuckin’ door.”
Instead of rising to her defense again, both Johnnie and Brooks stayed silent. Not welcomed anymore, Kendall gathered her things and rushed out.
Once again, Johnnie had let her know her importance in his life.
Fog and mist blanketed the ground, the scent of damp earth, motor oil, exhaust fumes, and cigarette smoke filling the air just outside the clubhouse. Drawing in a breath, Johnnie pulled out his own cigarette and lit it, walking toward the trail that led to the ruins of Christopher’s and Megan’s house.
He paused halfway there and leaned against a tree, debating on going to Kendall and attempting to seduce her. He was in an odd mood tonight, though, and didn’t want to frighten her, although he wanted her so fucking bad just then he could almost taste her.
She had the best tasting pussy on earth and the feel of it…sheer fucking heaven.
Groaning, Johnnie adjusted his dick, then puffed on his cigarette before releasing the smoke and glancing at the night sky peeking through the canopy of trees. Stars glittered against a canvas of darkness, nature’s nocturnal painting too beautiful for Johnnie to feel so lost.
Two weeks ago, his life had been so simple. Two weeks ago, he’d believed his grandfather still resided in Columbia. He’d expected the fact that he and Christopher were brothers to never become so known. Two weeks ago, Megan had still been on her honeymoon with Christopher and Johnnie thought he’d never find a woman like her or a woman he wanted as much as he wanted her.
He’d been happy to live, to ride, and to fuck. His grandfather had still been out of sight and Ken
dall had been nothing but a fond memory.
How quickly life changed. Fourteen, short days made a world of difference. In that span of time, Johnnie had gone from worshipping Logan Donovan to despising him enough to have killed him. Kendall was no longer a fond memory but a vital part of his life. She was so fucking damaged, in ways completely different than he, himself, was.
He wanted to be the man she needed him to be and, yet, he was him. Him might not be enough for her. His world consisted of bikes, alcohol, weed, sex, and money. From the little he observed of Kendall, she’d want more. She listened to fucking opera music, for fuck’s sake.
The thought of that fucking noise blaring from a speaker popped his fucking eardrums.
Before Megan arrived, Johnnie dealt with women who lived life as hard and as fast as he did. Even though he’d lived in Long Beach and ran the lab—portrayed the businessman to perfection—he stayed away from “good girls” once his last relationship ended. Before that relationship, good girls had frightened him. They wanted what he didn’t know how to give. Commitment. Attention. Time.
Good girls needed good men and he wasn’t that by any means.
Kendall needed that. She deserved it. But the club would always come between them. Like tonight. He’d seen the look on her face when she’d left the board room and he hadn’t demanded Christopher allow her to remain. Johnnie’s silence in the matter had hurt her.
If Christopher hadn’t pointed out that Johnnie’s relationship with Kendall put her in the same category as Megan, then, yes, he would’ve defended Kendall and demanded Christopher allow her to stay at the meeting. Of course, Johnnie would’ve lost. Megan’s hurt feelings stacked the deck against any and every argument he could’ve put up. But he would’ve pointed out to Christopher that Megan was acting like a spoiled brat, picked up whatever teeth Christopher knocked out of his head for talking against Megan, and, then, ushered Kendall the fuck out.
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 95