Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  “They got away with that?”

  Lighting a cigarette before he answered, he shrugged. “Long enough for Boss to get back. What the fuck was I supposed to do? I was outnumbered by two fuckheads who band together to give me their own form of torture. They wanted to bring me to my fuckin’ knees. Break me. Ain’t a motherfucker alive ever gonna do that. Never.”

  “A girl might one day.” Like Char’s doing to you?

  Outlaw snorted then puffed on his cigarette. “None of these cunts here and since I ain’t meetin’ no other bitches, that shit ain’t happenin’.”

  “You never know,” Luke insisted, holding Outlaw’s regard to keep from looking anywhere in this death pit. “God works in mysterious ways.”

  “In case you ain’t figured this shit out, I don’t believe in God. Haven’t for fuckin’ years. Ain’t holdin’ it against you that you do, but don’t push that shit down my throat.”

  “Fair enough.” Luke squirmed on the floor, afraid to move, not wanting to disturb this—or the dead man. “What’d Big Joe say when he got back?”

  “Took me two days to do this shit, but I got out and I went to my Ma ‘til Boss got back. He broke Rack’s ribs and let me break Joey’s arm.” He shrugged again. “It worked to get out the rage. Ain’t nothin’ ever replacin’ those images though or that darkness it set off inside me.” He cocked his head to the side. “You sure you want that?”

  No, he wasn’t. He really didn’t know what he wanted.

  “How the fuck you givin’ up what the fuck you got for this?”

  “I—”

  “If Char makin’ you do it, she not fuckin’ worth it. If it’s your old man, he ain’t fuckin’ worth it.”

  “What about if it’s me?”

  “Then this where you belong, but, only if it’s you wantin’ to be here.”

  “Do you? I-I mean Boss sound like he’d let you go if you really wanted to go.”

  “I don’t,” he stated simply. “Not no more. It’s just…I belong here because I feel as if I belong. Fucked up all things considered, but it’s just who the fuck I am. I’m comin’ to realize I was programmed for this shit from the day I met Big Joe. He taught me ‘bout loyalty and respect and bein’ a man. The killin’ part, knowin’ how to do that, was already in me, Luke. No motherfucker had to teach me that.”

  “You killed him…” Luke peeked at the body again. “It is a him, right?”

  “We don’t do that to bitches. Rack and Joey? They try and get away beatin’ on girls. But Big Joe and K-P, they not puttin’ up with that bullshit. I ain’t either. I got five sisters and a Ma. A man ever lay a finger on one of them, I’m puttin’ ‘em to ground. No fuckin’ questions asked. No fuckin’ explanations required.”

  Luke nodded and thought about Snow. “You know a lot about Snow?”

  “Nope, cuz I don’t know who the fuck Snow is, other than the white stuff fallin’ on the ground and I’m thinkin’ you ain’t meanin’ that shit.”

  “No,” Luke responded, then explained who Snow was.

  “Oh. Her. Club rat that got to be Chip old lady. Although that’s almost like bein’ fuckin’ Rack old lady. At least Chip act like a fuckin’ man and not a overgrown fuckin’ fat rat.”

  “So he does beat on her?”

  Outlaw nodded. “Stay out of it, Luke. You can’t save her. Worse, you’d get yourself fuckin’ killed.”

  “I fucked her. Several times.”

  “Chip told her to do it. You fuck her without his permission, you a fuckin’ dead man.”

  “But—”

  “No, but in it. Don’t get attached to none of them bitches, especially bitches belongin’ to other clubs.” Outlaw dismissed the conversation and threw aside the butt of his cigarette, stomping it out. “Answerin’ your other question. No, I ain’t kill this motherfucker. Ain’t chopped him up, either, but I gotta get rid of him. Wanna help me?”

  A deeper meaning lay behind that question. He could walk away and not look back. He could watch from the sidelines, leave tomorrow, and consider returning. Or he could help Outlaw with the task and leave no doubt to what he’d do. Return and earn his patch.

  He looked up at the ceiling then glanced at the table, and the huge sink. The ideas bouncing inside his head made him want to fold into himself and never look in the mirror again. No, the thoughts running in his head wasn’t him.

  It couldn’t be.

  He panted out at breath, focused on something else. “The club falling apart.”

  “Logan. He ran this motherfucker to the ground. I ain’t figured out where the fuck he was gettin’ his money, but, wherever it was…Big Joe took over and shit went further and further down.”

  “How you figure Lowman run it down then? Sound like Boss to me.”

  “Cuz I’m seein’ how much Boss strugglin’. He got big plans for the clubhouse and remodelin’ and everything. Logan a motherfucker, though.”

  Luke’s mind wandered back to the setup in this building. He frowned.

  “What?”

  Eagle-eyed motherfucker, but Luke supposed that’s how Outlaw had survived. And once Rack and Joey caught him off-guard and threw him in a place with a dead man…

  “I was just thinking…” Luke’s voice trailed off and he wondered who’d invaded his body. “I…fuck.” He rubbed his temples and pointed to the ceiling. “A meat hook,” he managed, then nodded to the table, averting his eyes in shame. “And an autopsy table with a drain in the floor.”

  Outlaw’s gaze flickered to all three places, then studied Luke. “You a regular mortician motherfucker, huh?”

  “Nothing regular about those fucking thoughts, Outlaw. That’s some cold-blooded shit. I can’t understand what the fuck’s wrong with me?”

  “I ain’t able to answer that, Luke. To me, you a good motherfucker. But how the fuck I see you ain’t important. It’s how the fuck you see yourself, brother. Throw the fuck out every-fuckin-thing else I ever said, but take that shit to the bank.”

  Chapter Five: Are You a Boy or a Man?

  “Tie me up.”

  Luke gazed at Char’s nude body, her legs spread, her pussy glistening with moisture and the scent of her making his balls ache. He wanted her so bad he could just taste her from the smell of her. She’d tortured him with a strip dance, unclothing both of them in the process, and teasing him with her tongue around his dick. Abruptly, she’d stopped and pushed him away, refusing access to her body if he didn’t follow her orders.

  Holding up the edge of one of the restraints, Char glared at him, her look taunting. He’d been home three days and today was the first time she’d consented to see him. In the weeks he’d been gone, she’d moved into her own apartment and…developed a need to be tied up during sex? Her bedroom furniture reflected that, especially the big bed with the four posts, complete with red silk sheets and black hand and feet restraints.

  He pulled at one of the twists in his hair, not wanting their first time having sex after so many days apart to be like this. He wanted to feel her touching him.

  The memory of the dead man in the shed intruded and he swallowed, reaching for the thick black cuff, fastened to the bed via a chain. “What if something happens, Charlemagne?” Locks clicked into place and could only be opened with a key. “What if a fire starts? Or I drop dead? Or—?”

  She snorted in disgust and rolled her eyes. “Are you a boy or a man?”

  Her sneer touched upon all his insecurities and he almost missed the MC. There, he faced a different type of pressure and scrutiny, but girls didn’t question his manhood. If he wanted pussy, he got it and he didn’t have to do something he didn’t want to do. He usually told them where and how he wanted to fuck.

  “I’m not restraining you,” he bit out in a firm tone that brooked no bullshit.

  Char blinked, her surprise his reward. “Wh-what?”

  Climbing out of bed, he stalked to his jeans and pulled out his cigarettes and matches, lighting up. “You fucking heard me.” Draggin
g on his cigarette, he released a plume of smoke. “I want to be with you, but not like this after two months apart.”

  She sat up and her breasts bounced, her hourglass figure something to revel in. “What do you want to do to me?”

  He’d lost his erection, a fact that startled Char a little more as she swept her dark gaze over him and widened her eyes when she got to Roscoe, limp as a noodle. What did he want to do with her? Anything? Everything? He turned and tamped his cigarette out in the small ashtray she had on her dresser.

  “Wh-what’s wrong?”

  More hesitancy on her part and Luke felt the subtle shift in their relationship. She’d always called the shots and he’d followed along, whether he agreed with what she wanted or not. Her demand to see other people, for instance, until next year, when he turned eighteen and she turned twenty-one.

  “You met someone else?”

  Folding his arms, he leaned against her dresser. “It’s obvious you have.”

  She scrambled out of bed and hurried to him. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered.

  “That’s why you called me every fucking day,” he growled with a snort. Her fingers wrapped around his cock and she fell to her knees, taking him into her mouth. He sucked in a breath, her dick sucking skills leagues ahead of anyone else’s. Swallowing half his dick down her throat made him groan and he buried his hands in her hair, just for a moment. Using her hair to control her, he tipped her head back, removing his cock from her mouth. “I’ve missed you, too,” he finally admitted. Because he had and he’d been hurt by her attitude.

  “You’ve slept with another girl?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You’ve slept with another dude?” He sounded harsh because he felt betrayed. He also suspected she’d had a merry fuckfest in his absence.

  Jaw clenched, he moved out of her reach.

  “I’ve slept with a couple of guys,” she mumbled, staring at her polished toes and wiggling them.

  “My fucking ass,” he snapped. “You’ve probably had more dicks in your pussy than a whore on Sunset Boulevard.”

  She gasped and her hands flew to her mouth, tears rushing to her eyes. “I’m not a whore,” she cried. “I swear I’ve only been with two men over the summer.”

  “Besides Matthew or including him?”

  Her face crumpled a little more and she released a small sob. “He told you?”

  Shaking his head in disgust, he went to his jeans and snatched them up, caught off guard when Char ran up and threw her arms around him, laying her cheek against his back.

  “Please, don’t be angry with me. I did it for us. I didn’t want us to regret not exploring other people. Don’t leave. Please.”

  “You must really need a fuck bad if you’re beginning and ending your explanation with the word please.”

  She choked. “You hate me. I’ve lost you.”

  Her falling tears wet his back and the sounds of her misery tore through him. He’d never made Char cry before and didn’t like hearing her misery. Twisting to face her, he wrapped his arms around her.

  “No,” he said gruffly, caressing her back. “I don’t hate you and you haven’t lost me. I’m here, Charlemagne. It’s just different. I’m different. I don’t want to play your games. I have shit to do with my life.”

  “Luke, I’ll help you achieve whatever it is you want in life. I promise. I love you.”

  He nodded. “I love you, too.”

  Instead of putting his jeans on, he grabbed his wallet and got a condom, then tugged her toward the bed. “I need to be inside of you.” He helped her onto the bed, before following behind her and taking her into his arms. He sucked her nipple into his mouth and fingered her pussy. It didn’t take much to get her wet. She was addicted to fucking.

  She clawed his arms, her little mewling noises breaking his questionable control. Putting the condom on, he sank into her, closing his eyes at the feel of her. He thrust into her once, twice, three times and, then stilled. Something was lacking between them. Emotion, maybe? Trust had been broken months ago when she’d first decreed they explore others.

  “You have changed.” Her breathless tone suggested she approved. She caressed his jaw, staring at him in awe. “You…you’ve become a man.”

  He throbbed inside of her. Capturing her hands, he pinned her arms above her head and began to move inside of her. She lifted her hips and cradled him between her thighs.

  “I love you. I love you so much,” she chanted, moving beneath him, her eyes bright and more adoring than he could ever remember.

  “So what am I now?” he demanded. “A boy or a man?”

  She didn’t answer, so he slammed into her, over and over again, not caring if she came or not, just wanting to punish her and have her never think to push him away again.

  “Kiss me,” she begged.

  Covering her mouth with his, he realized he hadn’t pushed kissing on her. For him, it was a way to connect, but at the MC, kissing wasn’t required. He’d learned to take it or leave it. She shook beneath him, unleashing his own orgasm.

  The moment he caught his breath, he stood and went to the bathroom to take care of the condom. In the few minutes it took him to do that, Char hadn’t moved. His stomach growled.

  “I think I’m going to head out.”

  “What? Why?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t fucking feel like being here,” he said with a sigh. “Besides, I’m hungry, so I’m going home. Get the chef to send something up to my suite.” That sounded so fucking funny after months of roughing it. He had a chef, a suite and a Jaguar that he no longer felt comfortable with because all of it was so empty.

  “Can I come with you? I haven’t seen your dad or your little brother since you left.”

  “I don’t know.” He rubbed his eyes and hesitated.

  “Please,” she whispered in a hoarse voice, sniffling.

  Luke sighed. “Get dressed.”

  As much as Luke secretly wished not to run into his father, his luck didn’t hold out. The moment he allowed Char to walk into the two-story foyer with crystal chandeliers and marble floors, he ran into the great Reverend Sharper Banks.

  His father was tall and lean. Always stylishly dressed, he’d started to lose his hair and kept his face free of mustache or beard. Keys dangled from his manicured hands and he lifted a professionally arched eyebrow.

  “Well.”

  Luke’s muscles stiffened with tension and he thought about sidestepping the man with only a brief acknowledgement. “Father.”

  Instead of answering, Sharper’s hawk-like gaze traveled to Char and he smiled at her, a wolf luring a lamb.

  Grabbing Char’s hand, Luke glared at his dad. “You’re on your way out,” he said tightly and moved aside. “Don’t let us stop you.”

  “I have a meeting with a young delegation of gang leaders. We’re looking for ways to curb the violence.”

  “That sounds really dangerous, Reverend Banks,” Char said, chewing on her lower lip. “Is that a good idea?”

  His father’s gaze roamed over Char’s body, her curves revealed in the form-hugging, short dress she wore.

  “Would you like to accompany me, Charlemagne? One look at your pretty face and thoughts of violence are the last thing on a man’s mind.”

  “You putting moves on my girl?” Luke asked, uncomfortable at Shaper’s perusal of Char. Sharper Banks was underhanded with women. In all areas of his life. More than likely, he was going to meet with the gang members to arrange a few illegal side deals. At the same time, Char adored attention from men. As far as Luke knew, though, she went for men their age, not old, used up motherfuckers whose fingers were probably the stiffest part of his body. Thinking of Matthew, he glared at Char. “You want my old man?”

  Char’s lower lip trembled. “Reverend Banks, Lucas thinks I’m a whore,” she said, her voice cracking.

  “I didn’t say that bullshit to you,” Luke snapped, affronted she’d discuss their business with his father. She knew the
contention between them.

  “Watch your language, young man,” Sharper said harshly. “You’re a minister’s son, not some wild beast without any home training.”

  His father calling him a beast grated on Luke. Every time he heard the word, he remembered Logan Donovan’s viciousness. Besides, it seemed odd that Sharper would call him that when he never had before.

  “If the wrong person overheard you acting like the loser you’ve become, it’ll be plastered in newspapers all over the damn place.” Sharper pointed at Luke’s hair. “You look like a thug. Get that out of your hair. I’ll get you in at the salon for an early appointment first thing in the morning.”

  A calculating gleam lit Char’s eyes and Luke released her. “I’m not cutting my hair. I happen to like it. It gives me my own identity.” He threw his father a dirty stare. “Separate and apart from you.”

  “Char, dear, can you excuse my son and I? Mark’s in the library if you’d like to wait with him.”

  “Call up the kitchen,” Luke called behind her sullenly. “Have them fix me something. A sandwich.”

  “Okay.”

  Then, he remembered he normally had food taken care of when she visited. “Extension 119.”

  She glanced over her shoulder, her expression strange, but then it cleared and she nodded. The moment she was out of sight, he refocused on his father. “I’m not cutting my hair.”

  “You’ll do whatever the fuck I tell you to do,” Sharper snarled, low. “If I tell you to cut your fucking hair, you’re cutting your fucking hair.”