Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  A shadow loomed against the wall and her heart sank.

  “Just another fucking reason I don’t have time for a fucking full-time bitch.”

  “You’re an asshole,” she snapped, spinning around and throwing his cut in his face. She set the money on the nearby table but held onto the card and slips of paper. His ID was inconsequential and she really didn’t want to know why he carried a picture of Meggie. “Just another reason I don’t have time for a player.”

  He snatched the items from her and brushed past her, a towel around his waist and one covering his head. “You should’ve thought of that shit before you sweated my dick, man. Got me to fucking marry you while I was drunk off my ass.”

  He’d accused her of the same thing when he’d first awakened. “Stop saying that. You know that isn’t what happened.”

  “I don’t know fuck all,” he returned, yanking the towel through his hair before pitching it across the room. “I just have vague memories of a little Elvis motherfucker. That’s fucking it.”

  “Whatever.” Bailey lifted her chin and met his glower. “I’m going to shower and then I’m leaving. No matter who instigated the marriage, it was a mistake.”

  He flinched.

  “You’ve been acting like a spoiled two-year-old since we arrived. That’s bad enough. But we really don’t know each other, so we’re doomed anyway.” The relief in his eyes hurt her. Still, she forced a smile and went to the table with the pad of paper stamped with the hotel’s information. She scribbled her mother’s address and placed it in his hand. “You can forward the annulment papers, or divorce papers, since we consummated the marriage, there.” Grabbing the clothes she’d worn yesterday, she hurried to the bathroom, praying he’d be gone by the time she finished showering and dressing.

  The paper with Bailey’s forwarding address burned Mortician’s hand, while his head pounded with a lingering hangover and his heart felt…injured, which he didn’t understand. The injury almost felt physical but he knew it wasn’t. He knew the pain in his heart was emotional.

  Bailey was fucking right, though. He’d either been fussing at her or fucking her, since leaving the MC and he was the motherfucker who’d invited her in the first place. If only he could remember how the fuck they’d ended up married. That fucking bet loomed over his head. He could justify a lot of bullshit. He could even defend accidentally marrying another bitch. But justifying a marriage to Bailey? No fucking way. His brothers fucking knew how hot he was behind her. Now, she was his fucking wife.

  Not only would he fucking lose a lot of fucking money, they’d fucking crucify him. He’d been such a smug motherfucker with Prez about Meggie…

  Meggie.

  The sound of the shower beating in his head, Mortician rushed to his phone, finding her number. He’d explain to her later about how Bailey ended up with him. Right now, he had a fucking emergency.

  Meggie girl, SOS. He hit the send button and hoped she responded quickly. Dinah alone was a full time job. Add in Little Man, Prez, her pregnancy, and everything else, it surprised him that she was still fucking sane.

  His phone dinged. What’s the matter?

  I fucked up bailey here w/me got me 2 marry her leaving now my request.

  Luckily, she didn’t make him wait and he was so happy. The shower had already stopped, so he didn’t have time to fuck around. You don’t really want her 2 go. Right?

  The blow dryer whirred to life and he breathed a little easier. Bailey was drying her hair, so that would take a minute. She had a lot of fucking hair. He sent Meggie a one word reply. Right.

  Be nice 2 her. Ask her 2 stay.

  He started to respond when another message came through.

  Be nice 2 her.

  He couldn’t stop his smile at Meggie’s reiteration. The dryer was still going, so he asked, what makes u think I haven’t been?

  Please. Your bet. Helloooo?

  He chuckled at Meggie’s perception. She said we don’t kno 1 another.

  Then let her in. Open up 2 her.

  Ok u win

  She sent him a smiley face and a heart. He couldn’t let it end there. Then he’d start to think about shit between him and Bailey. Worried he’d let his thoughts ruin shit with Bailey, he kept the conversation going with Meggie.

  How you and Red?

  Be glad u aren’t here, she responded.

  that bad huh

  Yeah.

  what up with that shit like 4 real meggie girl

  We got on each other’s bad side. I don’t know how 2 fix it & she doesn’t WANT 2.

  That sounded about right, but Red was working with what she had. Namely, her dumb ass man. john boy making shit worse he need 2 back the fuck away from you

  Christopher not helping.

  No, Prez wouldn’t. Not where Meggie was concerned. He wouldn’t allow anyone to make her feel as if she were less than anyone else. Prez didn’t have to do shit, though. His old lady was well-liked, and it wasn’t even because she was Big Joe’s girl. Meggie was liked because of her very sweet personality and her always being there for anyone who needed her.

  Johnnie HAS backed away from me. We’ve been arguing a lot.

  Yes, because John Boy couldn’t handle women’s emotions worth a fuck. Not that Mort was surprised, since John Boy hadn’t lived around a bunch of females. From what Mort understood, he hadn’t even been around his mother too much. As they grew up, Outlaw had been influenced by his mother and protected his sisters; John Boy had been influenced by Lowman and emulated Outlaw.

  This wasn’t a discussion for texting, however, and Mortician didn’t have time to call her, so he changed the subject. Right on time, too. The dryer abruptly halted. How r u

  Y didn’t u tell me about my daddy’s empty grave?

  Back the fuck up...Mortician’s eyes crossed as he reread the text. Torn between calling Meggie and making things right with Bailey he glanced at the door. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  This should be a fucking no-brainer. Meggie was his friend and, more importantly, Big Joe’s daughter. Bailey was…your wife, motherfucker.

  Call u later meggie don’t let this come between u & Prez

  He doesn’t kno I kno.

  Mortician read the text just as the bathroom door opened and Bailey walked out, her gorgeous head of black hair freshly washed and dried. Her face looked so sad, much like Meggie did when Prez was being an assfuck.

  A new message alert dinged and Bailey threw him a dirty look.

  Take Bailey sightseeing. Make her feel special. Xoxoxoxoxo. Another smiley face and heart.

  Meggie was well on her way to being an excellent old lady. Prez had hit the jackpot when he’d found her. She was perfect for him.

  Kind of like what Bailey was to him.

  He held up the phone. “This Meggie.”

  Skepticism made her lift her brow and pride encouraged her to shrug.

  Walking closer, he held it out to her. “Here. Read it.” Better her read his messages than to think he was contacting a woman he only wanted to fuck.

  Reluctant, she snatched the phone from him and sniffed. Mortician grinned at her jealousy. That meant she cared about him. Right? It should. He was slightly jealous because he cared about her. On the other hand…

  He scratched his jaw. Maybe not. Jealous bitches were also psycho bitches. They were possessive and nosy and stalkerish.

  Bailey’s brows drew together. “You asked Meggie for advice about me?”

  A bout of assfuckery threatened to intrude, so he turned and sat on the bed.

  “Why? I’m leaving, so—”

  “You might be carrying my baby,” he interrupted, confused as hell. He was fucking brilliant at handing out advice to everyone. It might help if he took his own damn advice where Bailey was concerned.

  After placing the phone beside the cash he’d won, she sat next to him, laid her hand over his and offered him a bright, teary smile. “Babies aren’t a reason to stay in a relationship, Lucas.”

  Mor
tician hated hurting her. He didn’t even know why he did. He could concede. Pay the fucking money.

  But, then, he’d lose. He might be many things, but a loser he’d never be again. Not the way Char had made him out to be.

  If Bailey stayed, he’d hurt her again. He didn’t know how not to do it. Especially if she were pregnant. His hurt went too deep because of Char and their baby. He didn’t even know how to talk about what she’d done to him, although getting it out in the open might help to take the bitterness away.

  Even though he knew he wouldn’t be a Prince Charming to Bailey…he knew he should let her go…he didn’t want to. He wanted to hear her say his name. Who the hell else had called him Lucas recently? Who else looked at him as if he were an end-all, be-all motherfucker?

  He mattered to her. In a way he didn’t matter to Prez or Digger or Meggie.

  His heart pounding, he got the papers with the phone numbers of the four random women who’d hit on him last night and tore them to bits and pieces. He didn’t know what to say to her to make it right and hoped she understood the gesture.

  Her real smile told him she knew. Of course, Bailey knew. She had a head on her shoulders. A sense of humor he’d all but extinguished. A face to take his breath away. And a body that wouldn’t quit. Even ten years younger than him—or maybe because of it—she had everything he’d ever want in a woman.

  That’s why he’d insisted…

  Sccccrrrrreeeeecccchhhhhhhhhh.

  “I asked you.” Not only had he asked her, he’d insisted they marry.

  Her lower lip trembling, she nodded, looking small and vulnerable, which made him feel like an even bigger dickhead. “You also said you loved me,” she said on a swallow that ended with a half-smile.

  “To convince you to marry me.”

  He hadn’t meant to say the words out loud. Instead, he was just thinking on his frame of mind. But she heard him and his statement affected her. She stiffened and sucked in a breath, so he took her in his arms and hugged her. K-P had only been killed twelve days ago and Mortician knew how much Bailey missed him. She wasn’t thinking clearly or reacting normally, so the shit that would normally piss her off, hurt her feelings.

  Her hair tickled his nose and her clean, fresh scent went to his head. She was so soft and delicate in his arms.

  His dick rose up and the air between them changed. Suddenly, getting more pussy from her was the most important thing in the world. Sadistic motherfucker that he was, he almost wished she’d push him away.

  When she did, as he guided her back on the bed, he blew out an agitated breath. She got to her feet and stumbled away from him.

  “Ride back to the club with me?”

  “No,” she retorted without heat, but firm all the same. “Stop thinking with your little head. You don’t want me here. You just want to make love to me.”

  “I do want you here with me. Let’s stay an extra day or two? I’ll have us moved to a suite. We can get champagne and toast our wedding. I mean the real shit, too, not that nasty pink bullshit we got this morning.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “You remember that?”

  “Yeah. Everything came back to me all at once.” He adjusted his sitting position because his dick was hard and neglected, needing attention. “Why didn’t you tell me I was the one who was sweating you?”

  “Would you have believed me?”

  “Probably not.”

  “I figured as much. That’s why I didn’t bother. Besides, you’d had a lot to drink and—”

  “That’s putting it fucking mildly, baby. I drank a fucking distillery.”

  “I still knew you’d had too much to drink, so I’m responsible, too.”

  Mortician leaned over and pulled her into the ‘v’ of his legs. Lifting her T-shirt, he kissed around her belly button, then smiled at her. “My irresistible charm didn’t have shit to do with it?”

  She giggled and kissed his eyelids, his nose, and his jaw. “Conceited much?”

  He nipped her lips. “Like a motherfucker,” he admitted with a wink, unzipping her jeans and inserting his hand into her panties. His thumb skimmed across her strip of pussy hair. He found her clit and her breath hitched. “I’m going to make you come just like this.”

  She slanted her lips over his mouth, whimpering at his moving fingers. Her pussy was hot, swollen, and wet. He wanted to bury his cock in her, but he’d made a promise to use his fingers to make her come, so he would.

  Chapter Nineteen: Dancing, Dicks, and Dildos

  Since Mortician hadn’t planned on getting hitched, he hadn’t brought a lot of money with him and he’d left everything with access to a lot of dollars at the club. He wanted to show Bailey a good time, though. She was his wife and they were on their honeymoon. She’d had a really shitty wedding when she deserved a gorgeous wedding gown and a huge cake and…

  Wait, WHAT?

  Mortician backed his thoughts up, scowling at her sleeping form. He’d worn her out, but he, himself, was stoked.

  Ideas that had to be from a motherfucker haunting his brain and his thoughts ran parallel to one another. Moving them to a suite. Taking her dancing. Renting some kind of outrageous sports car to chauffeur her around in.

  Purchasing a few toys and using them on Bailey.

  Those thoughts definitely weren’t his because logic would knock him in the fucking head and remind him he had a bet to win and he didn’t have his heart to give. No, he didn’t want to give her his heart and if he ever thought he would, he’d fight every fucking step of the way.

  Three times was the fucking charm and so far he’d had his heart broken twice. True, his mother hadn’t had a choice in the matter. Didn’t take away the fucking fact her loss had devastated him. And Char…

  What could he say about Char? She’d just trampled his heart and his emotions. That wasn’t to say he didn’t have some responsibility for allowing it to happen. He kept going back for more of her bullshit, thinking she’d change. Maybe, the feelings he had for her were enough to make her realize how much she loved him.

  Bailey shifted onto her back and threw an arm over her head, one tit peaking from beneath the cover.

  He’d been so fucking dependent on Char, although looking at Bailey made it hard for Mortician to remember a time when he’d loved Char.

  He couldn’t stand that bitch now, but that didn’t mean he’d ever loved her as deeply as he’d always believed.

  Fuck, nor did it mean he felt anything for Bailey.

  No, he was just doing this shit for her because she’d only get one fucking honeymoon, so he wanted her to look back and remember it as special. Maybe, one day, they could tell their children how they’d eloped in Vegas…

  Fuck.

  He shut down his brain. He hadn’t thought about telling their children shit because…because…she wasn’t fucking pregnant.

  Sauntering to her and climbing into bed, he pulled back the covers to study her nude body. She’d removed the belly ring. As a matter of fact, he’d only remember seeing it the day he’d met her.

  Her belly was flat, her tits nice and round. She wasn’t Smurfette sized like Meggie or statuesque like Red. Bailey was a little shorter than Chester, but she was just so fucking perfect.

  Admitting that didn’t mean he was addicted to her young pussy. Did it?

  Bailey kept him so fucking confused and on edge.

  She turned again, curving her body towards his as if she sought him out even in sleep and searched for him in her dreams.

  He scowled and snatched his phone, trying to decide between soliciting Meggie or Red for help and just as quickly selected Meggie. Nothing against Red, but he still didn’t know her well enough to entrust her with this delicate matter.

  Meggie wouldn’t rat him out to her husband, although Mort knew he’d have to call her. He was pretty sure Prez read Meggie’s text messages. On the other hand, he’d been present when Prez’s phone would beep and he’d hand it to Meggie, so she could check for him.
So, that shit worked both ways.

  He found her speed dial number, one place down since he’d met Bailey, and placed the call. She answered in the middle of the third ring.

  “Mortician?” she whispered, which meant Prez was lurking. Maybe, he’d even heard her phone.

  Fuck.

  “You alone, girl?”

  “Christopher’s just getting out of a meeting. He’ll probably be in the room in a minute or so.”

  “Okay, this only taking a minute. I need a wire transfer to give Bailey a honeymoon,” he began and explained exactly what he needed her to do.

  Bailey’s hair flew around her as Lucas skidded to a stop in front of a shop, blaring the sign adult. Since she’d awakened this morning and they’d moved to a huge suite, she’d been living in a dream.

  Lucas had actually rented a sports car, one she’d never heard of but, from the looks, it was a top of the line, out-of-the-league-of-ordinary-people, and fast. He’d taken her outside of Vegas proper to show her just how fast it could go. Back in town, he said they had a few stops to make before they returned to the hotel and changed for a night of dinner and dancing.

  Now, he held the door open for her, flicking aside his cigarette and reaching for her hand. Smiling, she touched her fingers to his palm, happy when he pulled her to him and kissed her. Releasing her, he shut the door, then settled his hand at the small of her back to guide her toward the doors of the shop.

  Inside, Bailey gazed all around at the different items. Oils, candles, dildos, vibrators, cock rings…she didn’t know where to go first, finally settling on a display with stimulating lubricants and edible paint.

  “Bailey?”

  Her brows drawn together, she picked up the coconut flavored paint, touching her tongue to her lips. Would coconut go with Lucas’s natural flavor?

  “Bailey?”

  “What?” she asked, distracted and fascinated, grabbing the sample of the passion fruit body mousse and sniffing.