Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  Meggie glared at him and clamped her mouth shut.

  “You tryin’ to protect grown ass motherfuckers ain’t happenin’.”

  “Maybe, I’m trying to protect you so you won’t shoot up your brothers.”

  “These motherfuckers know what the fuck go down. Again, you fuckin’ interferin’ in club business cuz you ain’t wantin’ them fuckin’ buried.”

  “Do you?” she snapped. “Val’s your friend.”

  “And you my fuckin’ wife. My life. No motherfucker, no motherfucker, hurtin’ you, makin’ you cry, hollerin’ at you, without consequences. Don’t give a fuck who it be. What the fuck don’t you understand about that shit, Megan? That’s simple fuckin’ shit. I like Val. He my fuckin’ friend and my fuckin’ brother, but I’ll blow him the fuck away if he do you something. You lucky this motherfucker still walkin’ round with his brain still in his head.” Outlaw pointed to Johnnie, who didn’t react, realizing, like Val, what Outlaw meant. “And I ain’t gonna start in on fuckin’ Kendall.”

  Thankful the blood just trickled out now, Val watched Johnnie wrestle with his need to say something to Outlaw, but when he stared at Meggie and his residual fury and fear from that incident flitted across his face, Johnnie stood down.

  “Just tell me who the fuck gave you the fuckin’ pill, or I’m lookin’ at the video footage.”

  Meggie didn’t answer and Outlaw stalked to the door. Mortician nodded and mouthed, “tell him.”

  “Mortician gave it to me.”

  Her words halted Outlaw and he spun to her. “Know what I think?”

  “No,” Meggie said with a sniff, contorting herself to scratch the back of her ankle. “But I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

  “You fuckin’ straight. Know why?”

  “Nope, but you’ll tell me that, too.”

  “You fuckin’ stronger than needin’ a fuckin’ sleepin’ pill cuz this motherfucker pushed you.”

  “Life happens, Christopher.”

  Outlaw stared at her—they all did—but she didn’t flinch under her husband’s scrutiny.

  “He gettin’ an ass beatin’,” he decreed.

  “You’ve already shot—”

  “Case fuckin’ closed, Megan.”

  “Can’t it wait? Zoann needs him.”

  “And I need you.”

  “Think about it. For me.”

  “For you, huh?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m gonna let Val decide. You wanna get your ass beat now and get two, three fractures? Or you wanna get a delayed ass-beatin’ and get ten or fifteen?”

  “Now.” Val hung his head, hoping Outlaw had the control within him to stop. He glanced at Meggie, knowing he was getting what he deserved. He’d gotten off easy and, whether she knew it or not, she’d saved his life. She was slowly learning the ways of the club and discovering that being an old lady meant more than protecting her man. It meant protecting the others, too, to keep peace amongst everyone. “Club code rules, Meggie.”

  “I know, Val.”

  “Mort, dig Val fuckin’ bullet out and wrap his arm the fuck up. John Boy, get Ghost on the phone. Tell him I got another fuckin’ change of plans and I gotta see to shit here on premises. He know what the fuck that mean. Megan, come with me. Val, half an hour.” He signaled Megan to leave the room, but remained to intimidate Val with a stare.

  It was all he could do to not flinch away and hold Outlaw’s stare.

  “They got a fuckin’ way to angle a piece in a motherfucker mouth to survive the shot,” he started. “We ever talk about that shit?”

  Swallowing, Val shook his head.

  “Say it’s me shovin’ my nine in your fuckin’ mouth. I put it in the fuckin’ side of your face. Gotta be done precise and shit. Understand, Val? Cuz if it ain’t, your fuckin’ throat gettin’ blown away. Bullet exitin’ the back of your head, fuckin’ up your brain stem.” Outlaw smiled, an ugly, cruel smile that Val had always sworn never to be the recipient of. “You want me testin’ you?”

  “No.”

  “Didn’t fuckin’ think so. If I fuckin’ find out you put your fuckin’ hands on Megan, I ain’t practicin’ that shit on you. Just wanna fuckin’ see if you remember that. I’m just gonna put my fuckin nine in your mouth and pull the fuckin’ trigger.” He looked at Mortician. “I know you know what the fuck happened, Mort.”

  Taking his life in his hands, Mortician looked away, and didn’t answer.

  “I don’t give a fuck what goin’ on, Mortician. Next fuckin’ time? Don’t drug her and make her hide shit from me. That ain’t how me and Megan go. Under-fuckin-stand?”

  “Yeah, Prez. Perfectly.”

  “I need four, older brothers, John Boy. Fuckin’ retired and need somethin’ extra to do,” Outlaw said, headin’ to the door. “Look like Megan need a fuckin’ guard detail whenever she ain’t with me, even here on premises.”

  “I can do it, Christopher,” Johnnie volunteered.

  Outlaw turned to him, a brow lifted, and hooted with laughter. “You must think I’m a fuckin’ dickhead and gonna let you around Megan pussy.”

  “There’s nothing more I want from Megs than to be her friend,” Johnnie growled. “I love Kendall.”

  “Don’t give a fuck. You still ain’t gettin’ near my girl.”

  Later that evening, Val limped next to Zoann’s bed and stared at her through swollen eyes. The bleeding from his split lips and damaged nose had stopped. The bullet had been dug out and the wound sewn up and bandaged, the hand he’d injured when he’d punched the wall, iced after Outlaw damn near broke it. Val’s ribs, already brusied from Mort, were more than likely broken, too.

  And his dick?

  Even if he wanted to fuck—which he didn’t—the vicious kick Outlaw had given Val put paid to that. All in all, he was pretty fucked up and in loads of pain.

  Zoann moved, but remained asleep, her eyelashes fanning her cheeks. Marks marred her skin from the tape and ventilator—now removed—and her lips were swollen and cracked, but she was alive.

  He tugged his phone from his pocket again and searched through the videos he’d taken of Ryan. He’d wanted as many memories as possible of his boy if, for some reason, Zoann had left him. Leaving him now, though, wasn’t an option. No more bullshitting around for them.

  Sighing, Val turned up the volume and placed the phone near Zoann’s ear, smiling at Ryan’s gurgles. Her lashes fluttered and he paused, waiting for her to open her gorgeous eyes. The short video ended, so Val found the other she’d responded to before.

  “Ma, ma, ma, ma.”

  Another smile tugged at Val’s lips and he glanced at his son’s little face. He was walking now, encouraging Little Man to do the same. Ryan’s hair and eye color matched Val’s, although the shape of his eyes and the length of his lashes was all Zoann. Ryan loved his mother, too, though he wasn’t as attached to Zoann as Little Man was to Meggie. Zoann did work.

  Or had worked.

  Val didn’t give a fuck whether they held her position or not, until Moncette was dealt with, Zoann wouldn’t be working.

  “Fuck.” Val sucked in another breath, not liking his lingering fear and grief. He dropped into the chair and moaned in pain, but he wouldn’t touch a fucking pain pill ever again no matter how intense the agony. He needed to face the shit he’d done and gone through.

  He was a fucking addict.

  Shit duly noted, so he’d stay away from drugs.

  He’d been a fuck machine.

  So fucking what? It had happened. It was over.

  There. Admitted and faced.

  “Hey.”

  Val slanted his glance toward Zoann and found her watching him with a heavy-lidded gaze.

  “Hey,” he returned, rising to his feet slower than a ninety-year-old to bend and kiss her cheek. The vent blasting air into the room cooled her skin, so he withdrew his hand, needing her warm again. Completely alive. “What happened?”

  She smiled. “I was going to ask y
ou the same thing.”

  “You were shot,” he said gruffly. “Do you remember anything at all?”

  “Other than a bright light and…and Momma.” She frowned. “I-I heard Ryan.”

  Val cleared his throat. He’d show her the video some other time. “You were in bad shape, Puff. We thought…we thought we’d lost you.”

  Her head lulled to the side and tears slipped down her cheeks. “I wanted to go with her, Matthew. I’m so tired of hurting and dreaming of him. He hurt me so bad. All I ever hear is him introducing himself to me. Cee Cee hurt me so bad.”

  Confusion ruffled Val’s brow. Cee Cee was dead. How could he have been involved in her shooting?

  “I wanted to get help and they wouldn’t let me.”

  Help? Dread knotted his stomach.

  “I’ve tried to suck it all in. I have! But all I’ve ever done is hurt you and Christopher,” she slurred. “I wish Cee Cee had never been there!”

  Cee Cee? What the fuck was she talking about? What did Outlaw’s old man have to do with…Fuck him with a spoon up his ass. Jesus H. Christ. Cee Cee? Cee Cee who’d sent Meggie a dead head? Cee Cee. The man who’d raped Outlaw’s mother. The fuckhead who’d raped John Boy’s mama. It made sense. Logan had allowed his two daughters to be forced by Cee Cee, why wouldn’t he have gambled away Zoann’s virginity? He’d hated Outlaw enough to risk it and Cee Cee was perverted enough to rape Zoann or kill Outlaw. The man had no morals, no conscience. No soul.

  Who was Val to judge? He thought he’d managed to hold on to a very tiny piece of goodness in him, but he hadn’t, had he?

  “Cee Cee,” she said again, her eyes drifting close, popping open a moment later. “Where’s Ryan?” she mumbled, groaning. “Where was I shot?”

  “In the chest and side,” he answered absently, his mind spinning.

  If Sebastian Caldwell had raped her, he was as dead as fucking dead could get. That meant no avenging her rape.

  “Ryan?” she repeated. “Where is he?”

  “Meggie’s looking after him,” he answered faintly, not wanting to mention Outlaw’s wife, his body, his gunshot entry point, throbbing with the utterance of her name.

  Zoann shifted on the bed. “Too much for her, ‘specially…Kendall pregnant again. Meggie needs help.”

  Pressing a hand against Zoann’s shoulder, Val encouraged her to stop her movements, all the more determined to go through with his plan to make Zoann his. He only needed to look to recent events to confirm the precariousness of life.

  “Keep still, Puff,” he whispered, brushing his lips against hers. She blinked at him, the trust in her eyes making Val swallow. She was still so fucking groggy, but he needed her in just this state. “I’ve decided we’re getting married.”

  “Married?”

  “Yeah.” He kissed her again. Marriage hadn’t been for him, but she wanted a family and Val wanted her. He wanted to always keep her by his side and protect her from everything. He wasn’t any worse than any of his other brothers. Outlaw was fucking insane and Meggie doted on him. “Don’t you want to marry me?”

  She giggled, followed by another groan and frown. “At one time I did.”

  “You still do.”

  Her brow creasing, Zoann moved again, her hand fluttering to her side. She seemed to remember the new baby. She moved her fingers over her belly and turned a questioning gaze to him.

  “Baby’s still in you. As far as we know it’s fine.” So far.

  “Okay,” she murmured. “I’m going to try to resist the pain medicine. I don’t want to risk it any more than I have.”

  He combed his fingers through her hair and nodded at her grave tone, appreciating her a little more. Even wounded and sick, she worried about his children. “We’re getting married,” he repeated.

  Another frown, deeper and adorable as fuck. “We are?”

  “Today.”

  She gasped and her eyes widened.

  “I’m in the hospital.” She cocked her head to the side. “Did I buy a dress already?”

  “Don’t fucking worry about that. Okay? I just want to do this.” To keep her and hold her close. To have what he’d lost after his mother died—a family. As long as he had Zoann, he’d worry about everything else later.

  “Matthew?”

  “What, babe?”

  “We really were getting married today?”

  He hid a smile. Suspicious even drugged up. This was the last fucked-up thing he’d ever do to abuse her trust. But he’d learned to be ruthless to survive and it had served him well. Why fuck with success? “Yes. Father Wilkins more than happy to preside over it right here, babe.” Although it was already late and Val was hurting like hell, so it wouldn’t be tonight.

  “I love you,” she whispered, drifting back to sleep.

  “Yeah, babe. I love you, too,” he responded, knowing he needed to enjoy this peaceful time between them while it lasted.

  Seeing lights and dead mamas and living to talk about it usually changed a motherfucker’s perspective on the world around them. It seemed to have done so with Zoann. Just like three months ago, when she’d heard about the bombing, she seemed so sweet and soft. It wouldn’t last, though. Dead mamas and bright lights aside, chances were high Zoann would hate the fuck out of him again.

  Once more, he’d abused the fuck out of Zoann’s trust. This time, though, he was determined to make her see reason and show her they belonged together.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Zoann licked her lips, frowning at the yucky taste in her mouth and the burning pain in her hand from where the needle stuck her veins. It was cold in her room. Hospitals reminded her of walk-in freezers, which was why she usually kept a jacket with her. She snuggled deeper down, wishing for her own bed so she could hold Ryan close and breathe in his baby scent.

  “Zoann?”

  Kendall’s whisper broke through her concentration and she slanted a glance toward the redhead. A nurse was there, too, checking her vital signs and changing a small IV bag that looked completely empty, then repeating the process with two larger, almost empty ones.

  “Um, hey.” She needed to rest her voice. It sounded so scratchy and her throat ached. Fucking ventilator. She giggled, still lightheaded. If not for that fucking ventilator, she wouldn’t have been here.

  “Do you know who I am?”

  Scowling at her cousin’s fiancée, Zoann nodded. Who the fuck didn’t know her? “Yes.”

  “Val’s downstairs waiting for Johnnie to come with Father Wilkins. Mortician is already there with the ring and Meggie and Outlaw are on their way with Ryan.”

  The pain was too bad for her to be dead. Anyway, Kendall was alive and kicking. So why was a priest coming and why were they all…a ring? Matthew’s conversation returned to her and she shifted. “We were getting married today,” she said groggily.

  “I doubt it was today.” Discomfort crossed Kendall’s pretty face, her gaze flitting from the door to Zoann. “Do you remember anything?”

  Closing her eyes, Zoann tried to recall what had led to her shooting. She’d been with Adam. He’d called her name and she’d turned—

  He’d shot her?

  Kendall leaned over the railing. “I have to tell you what Val did. He was shot two days ago.”

  Her grave tone sent a tremor through Zoann and she pressed her hand to her stomach. She struggled to sit up, needing to get to Matthew. Nausea and weakness punched her back and she groaned. “He was shot, too. How? What happened to him?”

  “How well do you know Val…Matthew?” Kendall amended. “He didn’t tell you—” The door slammed open and she jerked herself upright, backing away and dropping into the nearby seat.

  “Ma, ma, ma, ma, ma, ma.”

  Ryan’s babbling was the best sound Zoann could hear and she struggled to sit up again.

  “What the fuck you doing here, Red?” Mortician’s growl didn’t drown out Ryan’s little voice.

  “Matthew was shot,” Zoann said. “Is he okay?”


  The club enforcer glared at Johnnie’s fiancée, gently urging Zoann back against the pillows, keeping a tight hold on Ryan. “Prez got Little Man, so I took your kid before Val drop him. Johnnie still not back with Father Wilcunt.”

  “Matthew—”

  “Fine, girl,” he swore. He bent, his dreads moving against his shoulders and back, his muscles rippling over his brown skin. Using the controls, he raised Zoann to a sitting position, keeping Ryan in a one armed hold until he completed his task and then setting him on the side of her.

  She nuzzled the baby’s neck, smiling at his crescendo. He grabbed for the oxygen tubes in her nose and Mortician gently enfolded his little hand in his massive one.

  “Uh-uh, pardner.”

  “He shouldn’t be here. S-seeing me like this.”

  Mortician smiled at her “Only reason he shouldn’t be here is cuz he might fuck something up which, in turn, would fuck you up. Otherwise, kid won’t remember this shit. Trust me.”

  The door opened, bringing in Christopher and CJ, followed by Meggie, who gripped Bailey’s hand.

  “Bailey?” Kendall gasped.

  Mortician jerked around and sucked in a breath. “What the fuck you doing here, Bailey?”

  “I invited her,” Meggie inserted.

  Unable to see around the wall of Mortician’s body, she imagined her sister-in-law’s deal-with-it-asshole look. Not that Meggie cursed much. Ryan’s moving and cooing frustrated Zoann and revealed how little energy she had to keep him still. Thanks to Bailey’s entrance, Mortician seemed to have forgotten them completely.

  “This some cold-blooded ass shit,” he snarled as Kendall rushed to Zoann’s side and scooped Ryan into her arms.

  “This Zoann weddin’ day, motherfucker. Don’t want it fuckin’ bloodied, so back the fuck off from Megan.” Christopher stepped next to Mortician and two sets of green eyes studied her—her brother’s and her nephew’s.

  CJ stopped sucking his thumb and peeped around his father’s shoulders, giggling at his mother, and responding to Ryan.

  The door opened again and everyone parted, allowing Zoann to see Matthew in full colors. Suddenly, it dawned on her they were all in their leathers.