Kendall’s frown deepened, but Johnnie got to his feet, walking to the other side of the table where Zoann sat to hug her. “I love it. It’s perfect.”
Holding herself rigid, Zoann patted his back. Christopher grabbed the book from the table and flipped through it. In the ten weeks she’d been residing on premises, she’d reached an uneasy truce with her brother, greatly aided by Meggie. But Zoann didn’t think they’d ever be as close as they once were. Too many bridges had been burned between them, as much his fault as it was hers. She didn’t know how to make everything right, so she kept the wall between them.
She glanced at Meggie again, laughing at something one of the other women said.
Christopher was strong but Zoann believed he’d struggled to survive his shooting because of a certain golden-haired, then-eighteen-year-old. He’d recovered and Zoann had sworn to herself she’d ease up on him. Then, she’d discovered her pregnancy and everything had fallen apart between her and Matthew, pulling all her hatred and bitterness up again. Before she’d had a chance to sort through her feelings and remind herself she’d almost lost her brother…her mother had been killed. Because of Christopher’s lifestyle and the choices he’d made.
The one person whose shoulder Zoann could cry on when her thoughts got to be too much to bear had been snatched from her. She’d had a baby on the way and she’d been so scared. Patricia had promised to be there for her. Just as much as her loyalties had allowed her to be. No matter what Patricia had or hadn’t done for Zoann, she believed her mother would’ve made such a wonderful grandmother.
Zoann had lashed out, angry her mother had been robbed from her, and shut Christopher out. She’d convinced their sisters to do the same and he’d been hurt and alone, grieving for Patricia, too. The day he’d visited her house and…her big brother had cried for their mother…She’d hurt him more, too lost in her own misery to comfort him.
Her behavior shamed her. Meggie insisted Zoann needed to talk to Christopher about that time. But how? To make her brother understand, she’d have to dredge up all her hurt and pain from the past. He’d been sick of her neediness then, so why cry over spilled tequila?
Kendall leaned over Christopher’s shoulder and plucked the book from his hands.
“He wasn’t finished,” Zoann snapped, brought back to the present with Kendall’s actions.
“He was,” Johnnie piped in.
Whatever.
Silent, Mortician puffed on the cigarette he’d just lit while Christopher got to his feet, drawing everyone’s attention. As always with his lethal combination of beauty, virility, and charisma. His black hair and green eyes commanded attention. Add in his chiseled features, ripped body, height, and all-around audacity and he became every woman’s dream.
Unable to stop herself, Zoann glanced at Meggie again, the girl who’d managed to tame one of the most notorious bad boys around. She—
“Why didn’t Ophelia come?” Kendall glanced in suspicion at Johnnie and Christopher. “Aren’t her and Johnnie’s birthdays two days apart?”
“Ain’t no fuckin’ reason to lie to you, Kendall,” Christopher responded, reaching his limit with her. “Johnnie and Fee birthday is two fuckin’ days apart. And why she didn’t come, her business. It ain’t fuckin’ yours.”
Johnnie’s tightening fists increased Zoann’s irritation. He’d just been back in the club for a good six weeks and, if Kendall kept her interfering shit up, she’d come between Johnnie and Christopher once and for all. Meggie had pointed that out to Kendall for six damn weeks now. Zoann wanted to slap a bitch. If Johnnie didn’t handle his chick soon, Zoann would.
She and Meggie had a pact to keep Kendall out of Christopher’s path as much as possible. And, yes, Johnnie ignored Christopher’s coldness to Kendall, for the most part. Sometimes, though, Kendall did or said something to send Christopher over the edge and tensions kicked back up.
A bout of dizziness hit Zoann and she rubbed her temples. Instead of sitting out here, plotting ways to choke Kendall, she needed to get inside and get out of her uniform before Ryan awakened and demanded her attention.
She stood. She’d use her time in the shower to think of her next plan of action now that she was pregnant again.
Unbelievable…
Matthew stopped next to the table with the food, a gorgeous, tattooed woman in a low-cut top and short skirt, trailing behind him.
April.
Zoann could pick her out anywhere, the one she’d seen with Matthew so many months ago. Her stomach turned at the memory. Seeing him with April, whose name she hadn’t learned until she moved to the club, made Zoann realize the club girls could give him what she, herself, never would. Oral sex.
She’d remained firm in her decision to keep her distance. Until the bombing of the Torpedoes’ clubhouse.
Only…
Only he was a lying, stinking biker. Because of him, her house had been blown up. Her. House. The one she’d worked so hard to buy.
When he’d made the threat, she hadn’t really believed he’d be cruel enough to take away the only material possession she’d ever wanted. He had. She no longer doubted he’d do anything to have Ryan near him, so she’d capitulated and moved to the clubhouse.
The time had arrived for her to leave and find a place to rent. She couldn’t hide behind Christopher—and pretend she wasn’t—forever.
Nor could she take Matthew and his whores. The man had no patience. Call her insane but she’d needed a few days to get over having a man dismembered, his blood used to write words on the wall, in her house…in Ryan’s nursery. The man Matthew had brought over to watch over Ryan after he’d tricked Zoann into believing he wanted to do it. No, she’d only been an alibi so he could help his idiot club brother with the bombing. Ryan had been in that house while Gem—the unfortunate man—was killed.
She donated extra to church all the time because her son had been saved. She would never have survived his death. Nor did she want to consider what would’ve happened to Matthew if the Torps had found him instead of Gem.
Had she admitted any of that? No. She excelled at mean bitchery and she’d been so furious at Matthew and his lies. He hadn’t thought enough of her to tell her the truth. No, he’d made love to her to divert her attention while his brothers cleaned up the gruesome scene. The final insult was his chicken-shit move of having her house destroyed.
She’d been enraged and had opened her mouth, as usual. And Matthew…Matthew went about business as usual because it seemed like she’d gone about business as usual. However, his normal routine included fucking everything in sight.
Whether she had a right or not, his behavior made her livid. She swore she’d never forgive him. He was a pig and there was no medicine to depig him.
“I’m sorry, Zoann,” Kendall offered into the thick silence.
“For?”
Her red hair fluttered in the evening breeze. She nodded toward Matthew and April. “Val with another woman must be hard for you to watch. I can try and talk to him if you’d like.” She twisted her hands and shifted her weight. “You’re so much stronger than me, though.”
“Dryer lint is stronger than you,” Zoann spat, not quite believing Kendall, who stiffened.
Johnnie glared at Zoann. Daring him to say anything, she glared right back. Her anger intensified. Kendall had no malicious gleam or satisfied smirk or superior tone with the offer. She sincerely thought she helped. The woman had no social skills.
“Hey,” Meggie greeted, bypassing everyone to go straight to Christopher to wrap her arms around his waist and stand on her tiptoes to kiss him.
Christopher pulled her against him and tangled his big hands in her hair. “Hey, baby.”
A question lurking in her blue eyes, Meggie turned to Zoann. “What’s up?”
She’d offered to demand Christopher bar April. Zoann had wanted to tell her, yes, do it. But she loved Matthew enough to stay away from him. If she couldn’t trust him with her deepest secret—and she
couldn’t—then she’d never make him happy in bed. To let go of her fear and shame, she had to trust him.
Raising her head and stiffening her spine, Zoann shook her head. Meggie nodded and glowered in Matthew’s direction. Christopher, Johnnie, and Mortician whispered something. From the way they snickered and from Meggie’s red face—she was close enough to hear them—Zoann knew it had been some type of juvenile remark.
Idiots.
“What are you saying?” Kendall asked, glancing between them.
Johnnie turned to her and spoke in low tones to her, his mouth close enough to her ear that no one else could hear. He pulled back with a twinkle in his eyes and a smile on his face. Kendall, though, frowned.
Gah!
“Val alert,” Meggie announced around a cough.
Zoann inched closer to Christopher and Johnnie until she realized her actions and halted.
Matthew stepped in the midst of the circle. April still lagged behind him but crashed to a halt at the frozen glower Meggie gave her.
Matthew cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak, but Meggie’s evil eye made him snap his mouth shut, too.
He smiled at Zoann, his heart-stopping dimple making an appearance. “Hey, Puff.”
Zoann ignored the combined scents clinging to him. Leather. Alcohol. Weed. Cologne. Not sex, though. His gaze fell on her breasts and she flushed. If dick sucking and pussy eating wasn’t uppermost in his mind, he’d notice her bigger boobs thanks to the new baby he knew nothing about because she feared his reaction.
“I need to talk to you.”
“About?” Kendall questioned. “She doesn’t need to talk to you, man-whore.”
Zoann choked, taking a step forward. Meggie recovered from her shock and intercepted Zoann.
“Um, Kendall, I think it’s time we checked on my mom and the boys,” she squeaked.
Sighing, Kendall gave a reluctant nod. “If you need me or Meggie, we’ll be right inside.”
Zoann bit back a laugh at Meggie’s exasperation and Mortician’s eye-rolling. She nodded and pushed out, “thanks, Kendall.”
Kendall meant well, nowadays. But…DAMN!
Matthew clamped his fingers around her wrist and tugged.
A moment of panic and flash of fear zapped through Zoann at his sudden movement, pissing her off all the more. “Let go of me. Whatever you have to say to me, tell me here and then fuck off.”
Val had a run to go on. Outlaw had interrupted Val’s sleep at seven this morning to give him the news. They needed to unload their shit. Get the hydrogrows and other drugs out of the warehouse before Moncette surprised them with a search warrant.
Before he left for his run, he wanted to talk to Zoann. He decided he’d worry about her safety and state-of-mind for as long as he lived, but he just didn’t know how to reach Zoann and break through her hatred of him. His wish to get through to her frustrated the fuck out of him.
If only he could fucking let her go. He’d done an admirable job that day in her house when he’d delivered the news of her mother’s death. He’d walked the fuck away and regretted it the moment he’d gotten on his bike and sped off.
The look in her whiskey-colored eyes whenever she glanced at him tore him in two. He’d had enough derision and hatred in his life after his mother’s death. He couldn’t take one more person he cared about hating him. He fucking needed to be wanted.
The club ass wanted him. Maybe, only to fuck. Or to brag they’d bagged a biker. Or, even to get a few bills from him. But he’d learned what women liked. First to survive on the streets and then just to see their eyes light up when they saw him.
Once upon a time, Zoann’s gorgeous face had lit up when he walked into a room. Having her attention was a fucking head rush, her sweet smile worth everything he owned.
“Walk with me,” he told her, not in the mood for her laying the blame at his feet for every fucking crime he’d ever committed.
She skirted around him. “I need to check on Ryan.”
Fuck.
Ignoring Outlaw, John Boy and Mort, Val spun around, in time to see Zoann brush past April. April was so fucking uncomplicated, her biggest asset being how much she liked to fuck. Out of all the other girls who hung around him, Zoann hated April the most.
“I’m going on a run, Puff,” he called, not knowing what else to do to get her attention, not sure if she cared enough about him for those words to even matter to her.
They did matter. She halted.
“Three days,” he said slowly. “And alone.” He wanted to drive that point home to her.
“Where…” Her voice trailed off and she heaved in a breath. “Why are you telling me?”
Any number of reasons, the most important having to do with tailing the fucking sheriff, which could get him locked up. Or killed, if worse came to worse.
“I want you to know.”
Her head bowed for the briefest of moments before she glanced in April’s direction again and stiffened her spine. “Now I do. Anything else?”
“Come on the run with me,” he blurted, shocking not only the brothers but himself, too. Of all the shit he thought he might say, a fucking invitation never crossed his mind.
More whispering and snickering from Outlaw and the other two. Val wiped his brow. Fuck, he didn’t blame them. If roles were reversed, he’d tease the shit out of them. But Zoann turned and he saw her shock. However, her considering look was worth all the ragging in the world.
She licked her pretty pink lips. The most gorgeous creature he’d ever fucking seen, she didn’t wear a bit of makeup and her hair was piled on her head. Color swept into her peaches and cream skin as she studied him.
“What about her?” she hissed, nodding toward April.
“Didn’t invite her,” he responded, folding his arms. “I invited you.”
“Why?”
He shrugged, not having an answer.
Her mouth turned down. “I have work and, in case you’ve forgotten, I have a son. So you can live your life foot loose and fancy free all you want. I’m more responsible than dropping everything at the spur of the moment because you’ve crooked your finger.”
“You did once.”
She opened her mouth and Val lost his patience.
“Deny it. My son is the proof.”
“About the only good thing you’ve ever done in your miserable life,” she shot back, her voice wobbling.
“Getting with you was one of the worst,” he snapped before he caught himself. He hated seeing April’s smirk at Zoann’s treatment of him.
Hurt bloomed in Zoann’s eyes and, to his horror, tears filled them.
His heart pounding, he stepped toward her. “Puff—”
She sucked in a breath at the sound of his voice, her long lashes blinking rapidly to clear the moisture away. Her eyes blazed with anger. “Fuck you,” she snarled and whirled around, running away.
April closed the distance between them the moment Zoann disappeared. If this wasn’t enough excitement for her...But, fuck, he knew the kind April wanted. The crazy, wild kind with jealous women where only one or two—sometimes, three or four—earned their bragging rights for the night.
At the brewing shit storm, Val rubbed his eyes, so fucking tired. He needed to give up those fucking pills. At least, on the road, he knew better to fuck with them. He’d end up wrapped the fuck around a tree. Here, though?
Fuck.
Now, free of the pills, Val’s heart sank. Of course Meggie knew about her husband’s past. But her reaction pre-miscarriage would be quite different from her reaction now.
April sidled up to Val and wrapped her arm through his. “Come somewhere with me out of view, so I can suck your dick.” She giggled and glanced at Mort. “You can fuck me while I blow Val.”
“Not fucking interested.” The look Mortician gave her said otherwise.
If Mort had taken her up on her offer, it would’ve made Val’s life much easier. If only Digger were here to take Mort’s place
and pull April’s attention away from the mischief he’d encouraged.
“We don’t need him, babe,” Val said quickly, wrapping an arm around her waist to drag her away and escort her out.
April freed herself from Val’s hold and turned a hopeful glance to Outlaw. Not one of them—Val, Johnnie, Digger, Outlaw or Mort—hadn’t fucked her at one time or another.
“You, Christopher?” she breathed, thrusting her tits out at him.
Outlaw started. “What the fuck you fuckin’ called me?”
Val fucking froze in a rigor mortis parody, unable to move any part of his body. Oh, yeah. This shit would be bad. Damn. He’d gotten used to life since Meggie’s arrival. That fucking revelation came hours fucking too late, though.
April gazed at Outlaw through the fringes of her lashes and licked her lips. “Christopher. What Meggie calls you.”
“Bitch, you gotta be fuckin’ stupid.” Outlaw came to his feet and barreled toward her. “Or fuckin’ high,” he said with a disgusted snort when he got closer. He scowled at Val, then grabbed April’s arm and shoved her back. “I’m fuckin’ tellin’ you this once cuz obviously you ain’t got the fuckin’ memo. Fuck with my girl and I’m fuckin’ chokin’ the shit out of you. Megan been through e-fuckin-nuff for you to fuckin’ suddenly start with this bullshit. Val, clue this cunt in or keep her the fuck away. Ain’t my fuckin’ fault you a stupid motherfucker and can’t do shit right where Zoann concerned.”
Val brushed a bug off his forearm, Outlaw’s words touching a nerve within him. To his way of thinking, he did as much as Zoann allowed him to do. April glanced over her shoulder and nodded. She lowered her lashes, her satisfaction gleaming.
Before he could question her, she blared, “At least Zoann knows Val and me fuck. Meggie and Kendall doesn’t know Outlaw and John Boy fucked me and licked me after or before I sucked their cocks.”
Meggie’s strangled gasp drew their attention. A good thing, perhaps. The promise of murder in Outlaw’s eyes was fucking frightening. Kendall cleared her throat, the color in her cheeks and tears in her eyes telling the story.
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 135