Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  And? It’s the goddamned truth!

  “There’s no guarantee things wouldn’t have turned out exactly the same way even if you’d had sex with the man.”

  I disagree!

  “Are you disagreeing because you truly believe that? Or is it because you’re looking for validation of your desire to sleep with him? Maybe, if you slept with Mr. Caldwell, you’d further assimilate Mrs. Caldwell’s identity?”

  Ass…HOLE!

  Too furious to continue the morning session, I stormed out.

  Yes! He’s decided I need morning and evening sessions. This is because he’s nothing but a charlatan.

  The evening session went much better. He allowed me to focus on Johnnie, and all the reasons I love him. I had to list at least three physical, mental, and emotional attributes. The arrogant ass asked me if I knew the difference between the two. He pissed me off so much, I actually growled at him.

  “Do you know the difference?” I sneered.

  That knocked him off his high horse.

  With a glare at me, he didn’t respond, and instead, demanded I tell him how important I ranked each of the features I listed for Johnnie.

  I started with the obvious.

  Johnnie’s Physical Features That I Love:

  1.) He’s gorgeous with his silver-gray eyes and light blond hair. He takes pride in his appearance and knows he is every woman’s dream and the envy of all men.

  2.) He’s very virile, and makes sure his partner is pleased before he gets his own pleasure.

  3.) His smile lights up his entire face. He shows the world a carefree, amused side that sparkles from the inside.

  4.) He is tall and muscular, and handles me with ease. He makes me feel like a female, as if I’m small and delicate.

  5.) He easily transforms from a suit and tie, to a cut and T-shirt. He makes the clothes. They don’t make him.

  6.) He owns the world and he knows it.

  My admiration for his physical prowess could go on forever. Although I spoke from truth, the details I offered Dr. Stanton bored him to tears. I couldn’t have been happier. He pointed out I started with the physical, so my feelings for Johnnie were based on need and were quite shallow. I told him I was giving the lists as he offered them to me.

  He called me purposefully difficult. I called him an idiot.

  He threw me out of his office before I had the chance to continue with what about Johnnie I loved so much. But I liked this exercise, so I’ll continue it here, including my definition of what is the difference between emotional and mental…health, attributes, whatever the fucker would like to modify the terms with.

  Mental health is the ability to sufficiently process cognitive thinking, while emotional stability is the reaction to feelings and thoughts. To me, anyway, and all that matters is my perception. One cannot function properly without the other, in most cases, but I believe Johnnie’s mind is close to genius level. He’s practical and perceptive in most things, with a head for business and numbers. So that list was as easy as his physical characteristics.

  Johnnie’s Mental Abilities:

  1.) He’s keen, and always sees the big picture with small details added in, as necessary.

  2.) He’s cerebral. His mind is always working a million miles a minute.

  3.) He’s intellectual. Means the same as cerebral…?

  Yuck! I’m chewing the eraser as I consider my list so far. My heart is beating so fast because I should have more to add here. Dr. Stanton is making me doubt the sincerity of my feelings for Johnnie, even more so when I realize what I love about him emotionally is just as short…shorter...than the one I just wrote.

  My hands are shaking as I force myself to get back to Stanton’s Stupid Lists. Suppose my feelings for Johnnie are superficial? What then? Is this why I’ve acted and reacted as I did the months I was with him? Was it because I was fighting to capture something real? I thought it was out of my grasp because of Johnnie’s past, because of my past, when, in actuality it wasn’t there to begin with?

  What does that mean for us? Where does that leave me? Him? Our baby?

  Since Charlotte enlisted Brooks and once again talked me into staying, I pose this question to Dr. Stanton. He pouts like a girl, and I knew the moment I saw him this morning, he’s still upset with me for calling him an idiot yesterday.

  Instead of answering my questions, he insisted I give him three emotions to pin on Johnnie. He didn’t allow me to think in depth. I had to throw out the first words that came to mind.

  They were:

  1.) Arrogant

  2.) Determined

  3.) Confident

  4.) Sexy

  5.) Humorous

  6.) Strong

  He didn’t appreciate that I doubled the words he requested.

  He’s lucky I didn’t quadruple them. I would have, too, just for spite, if he hadn’t called time on the twenty-five seconds he’d allotted me.

  It was then that I realized what first drew me to Johnnie. It wasn’t his drop-dead gorgeous looks, but it was his confidence.

  Until the last five minutes, the session had been the best I’d ever had with Dr. Stanton. Then, he ruined it by asking me to list six characteristics of Christopher, allotting me the same amount of time.

  How easy!

  Christopher is ignorant, unreasonable, oversexed, chauvinistic, violent, and a demon with the looks of a dark god.

  With a confusing smirk at me, Dr. Stanton ended our session, and I didn’t waste time beating a hasty retreat.

  Chapter 8: You Were Right

  Warmth surrounded Kendall, the scent of sandalwood and citrus invading her nostrils. Drawing in a deep breath, she sighed in contentment, turning to the source of heat and snuggling closer.

  A feathery touch whispered across her lips.

  “Mmm,” she murmured, opening her eyes at the light contact.

  Johnnie’s smile greeted her. Unable to stop it—not wanting to—she lifted up and returned his kiss, then grinned at him.

  “Hey.”

  “Hi, gorgeous.”

  Her insides warmed at his husky words. She brushed her fingers along the curve of his jaw, his morning stubble tickling her sensitive skin. They faced each other, both of them lying on their sides. She stared into his eyes, free of fatigue or anger, just basking in her. Whatever else she’d ever doubted she always knew how much he enjoyed looking at her. Even when she’d been uncomfortable with his attention, he took pleasure in her height, her curves, and her red hair.

  “Are you feeling okay?”

  She nodded. “I barely had morning sickness. Don’t you remember?”

  He moved a lock of hair away from her cheek. “Yes. I didn’t know if that had changed or not.”

  “It hasn’t,” she said softly. Grabbing his hand, she placed it on her stomach, hoping the baby moved. Kendall had noted, weeks ago, it didn’t do early morning. Most of its activity happened from late afternoon to late evening.

  Johnnie caressed her, the nightgown she wore serving as a thin barrier between his touch and her skin. Her nipples tightened. Desire shot through her at the sudden flame smoldering in his eyes.

  He drifted his hand lower, until he cupped her pussy. Kendall’s eyes slid closed at the feel of him. Drawing her into his arms, he searched her face. The intensity of his look made her tremble.

  When his fingers threaded through her hair, she offered him a smile, encouraging him without words to continue. Not hesitating to seize control, he tasted her mouth, running his tongue along the seam of her lips, torturing her with sensation.

  “So fucking sweet,” he grunted against her, taking their kiss deeper, turning up the intensity, and thrusting his hard cock against her hip. His pre-cum wet her skin.

  Her pussy slickened, swelled, and her clit throbbed, deprived of Johnnie’s touch for too long. Moaning, she arched up, begging him for release without saying the words.

  Finally, he massaged her slit and thumbed the hardened nub. He tore his mo
uth from hers and moved to her breast, using his teeth to tug the material aside. Sucking a nipple into his mouth, he increased the pressure on her clit.

  Kendall rocked against his fingers and threaded her fingers through his silky hair. His skin burned beneath her touch, the hot length of him jerking, turning her on like nothing else ever could.

  Only a few strokes of his expert fingers, and his tongue working in and out of her mouth, sent her over the edge into a mind-blowing release. As she settled back to earth, he blew on her sensitive nipple, and whispered to her. The sound of his voice and the feel of his warm breath stimulated every nerve ending in her body. She couldn’t wait to suck his dick and taste his cum.

  She gripped his cock, but he pulled away, and got to his feet. Confused, she adjusted her nightgown, covering her breasts and pussy.

  “I’m fine, sweetheart,” he promised.

  Her fingers had given Johnnie a sexy bedhead. She itched to repair every, out-of-place strand, then stroke every inch of him. But she couldn’t. He’d moved out of her reach.

  “Your dick says otherwise.” She nodded to the hard length that bobbed whenever he moved. “You might be fine, but it isn’t.”

  He smirked at her, the wicked gleam in his eyes making her blush and giggle, like a schoolgirl.

  “I want to taste you.”

  He sucked in a breath. “No, Kendall.”

  Uncertainty tightened her insides, and she swallowed, nervous he’d walk away and find pleasure elsewhere.

  He offered her a smile. “I’m not going to another woman, sweetheart.”

  “Then?”

  “Then nothing, but you were right. You need to see that I value you for more than just getting my nuts off in your lovely body. You’re beautiful. You’ve always been to me, but never more so than now.”

  Lust and love, a combination only Johnnie could pull off with such forbidden promise, filled his expression.

  She wanted to tell him so much, share everything with him. They’d already talked, though. Now, was the time for action, so instead of verbalizing her thoughts, she’d show him.

  Like this, with just the two of them facing one another, with no outside interferences, she believed they’d work through everything. Their love would—could—conquer all!

  “Sleep, sweetheart. I have to get to a meeting with Christopher.”

  She glanced towards the window and found it still dark. Dawn was just beginning to break. “Now?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s the meeting about? How long will you be gone?”

  He shrugged and turned towards the bathroom, throwing over his shoulder, “A loose end that needs taking care of and it might take a while.”

  Kendall didn’t particularly like the sound of that, but knew she wouldn’t get anything else from him. Instead of arguing, she sank back against the pillows, pulled the covers over her, and decided to stay in bed for as long as possible. Later, they’d attend the meal Christopher had planned for Meggie. Kendall needed as much strength as possible to get through it.

  Setting the bag he carried aside, Johnnie raised his gun to cover Christopher’s back, as he jimmied the lock on the side door. They were at the house of the man identified as the sheriff’s deputy. The one who’d made Megan, Zoann, and Dinah strip before he’d searched them with his bare fingers.

  Though unknown at the time, Megan had been pregnant with the twins she currently carried, which added to Christopher’s need for revenge. Johnnie knew the deputy would’ve been a dead ass walking for touching Zoann, too, but he’d committed a cardinal sin and fucked with Megan.

  Val drove Christopher’s pickup around, with the orders to return in ten minutes. They needed to get in and out before the neighborhood began to stir. It was a middle-income area, mainly filled with families. That meant school bus routes, carpooling, and career-oriented parents. All of that equaled early morning and late evening activity.

  Which equaled witnesses, and the threat of being identified.

  “Fuckin’, motherfuckin’ lock,” Christopher complained, finally engaging the tumbler with the thin strip of metal he’d brought.

  He shoved the rod into his back pocket, then drew his nine, and motioned for Johnnie to follow him in. He picked up the bag, went inside, and realized they were in a utility room barely big enough for both of them to stand in comfortably.

  Johnnie could barely see the washer and dryer in the dark room. There was a sink too, perfect for blood to drain away…

  As the thought crossed his mind, he drew in a deep breath to calm his anticipation and slow the acceleration of his heart, and climbed into the brutal head space he thrived on. He wanted to move, but Christopher always paused to adjust his hearing and sight.

  Maybe, it was because Johnnie thrived on slow torture, and he struck fast. Whereas, Christopher reacted at lightning speed, and rarely had the patience for anything more.

  Finally, he moved forward, the black plastic gloves making it hard for Johnnie to distinguish between Christopher’s hands and his gun.

  The tick-tock of a clock somewhere in the room they crept through fit as a countdown to the end of its owner’s life.

  They now kept a steady pace. Christopher seemed to know where he was going. Cattycorner from the bathroom—Johnnie knew this because of the opened door—Christopher eased his way into a room. Johnnie lagged back to open his bag.

  A light flickered on and a gun cocked.

  “Rise and shine, motherfucker,” Christopher announced.

  Johnnie grabbed the hood and rope, and then rushed in behind Christopher, to find the deputy wide-awake, his features flushed with anger.

  The man held himself still, too still. Any moment, he’d go for a gun he had hidden somewhere nearby. He was just waiting for an opportunity. “Who the fuck are you?”

  “Hands up,” Christopher ordered calmly.

  In his early to mid-thirties, Deputy Dead Dog had brownish blond hair growing from the scalp of a brainless head, because instead of complying, he sneered, “I wouldn’t fuck with me if I were you.”

  “Lucky for my ass, I ain’t you, motherfucker,” Christopher growled, losing patience. The plan was to get the deputy off-premises and to the meat shack, for finger-breaking, and whatever else came to mind, before finishing him off. “Now, hands the fuck up or head blown the fuck away. Your fuckin’ choice.”

  The deputy narrowed his eyes, zeroing in on Christopher’s cut, his title, his name, and his various patches. He smiled. “You’re her husband. The little blonde whore from the club house?” he asked, although it was clear he didn’t need clarification. “She felt good,” he continued. “Her pussy was dry, but so hot and tight-”

  With a furious roar, Christopher opened fire, emptying the clip in the man’s head. Blood sprayed on the walls and ceiling, on Christopher, Johnnie, and the floor.

  Johnnie wiped his brow, and scowled. Christopher had come prepared to shoot the fuckhead on the spot. “You put a fucking silencer on your gun?” he asked in outrage, disappointed at the quick kill.

  Christopher shook in residual fury, his cold green eyes sweeping over Johnnie. Not answering, he began gathering shell casings.

  Sighing, Johnnie wrapped Deputy Dead Dog in the comforter.

  “Get your shit,” Christopher ordered, pocketing the evidence and pointing to the bag Johnnie had brought. “I’ll get this motherfucker.”

  “We dumping him?”

  “Fuck no.”

  Johnnie’s interest piqued. “Meat shack appointment still?”

  A curt nod. “We are taking our time, so Cash will be there with breakfast waiting for us. While we get rid of him, he’ll be unscrambling the signals to this motherfucker’s house alarms and surveillance cameras.”

  Appeased, Johnnie nodded, and checked one last time to make sure they’d left nothing behind. A couple of minutes later, they were departing through the side door and hustling the body into the covered bed of the pickup, before heading back to the compound to erase
all evidence of the assfuck’s existence.

  Dear Diary,

  I’ve never had a real female friend. The closest I’ve come to is Meggie and Bailey. Zoann doesn’t tolerate me, for whatever reason, even though only three years separate us.

  Bailey has great plans for herself. She is loyal and the complete opposite of Mortician. Although I’m ten years older than she is, we have a lot in common. College, for instance is important. Education is essential, and both she and I know it.

  Hell.

  My head is hurting. All I can think of is Meggie and Emily. Emily is my childhood idol/nemesis. She was always so perfect. If I’m completely honest, the moment Spoon showed me Meggie’s photograph, I had visions of Emily. When I discovered Johnnie loved her first, I hated her more.

  I’ve been in treatment eight weeks. Dr. Stanton says, until I reconcile my feelings for Emily, I’ll never like or appreciate Meggie. He insists they are two different women.

  But are they?

  Who does Meggie see when she looks at me? How can she look at me and feel so comfortable in her own skin? What does she expect from me?

  I don’t know. Nor do I know what I expect from her. Do I need a disavowal from her of any and all feelings for Johnnie?

  What?

  Or do I want her to hurt emotionally, because Emily always crushed me?

  To be her friend, or any woman’s friend, I think we have a duty to watch out for each other. If our man is an asshole, it’s up to our friend to point that out. When we’re down, best friends should spend the day together.

  My attempt at friendship with Meggie was sincere, but she made me feel unworthy. Worse than that, she told her ape of a husband everything, when I was her best friend. She should’ve shared everything with me, and used my advice where he was concerned.

  I’m ready for a real, honest girlfriend, as long as she is ready for me.

  Chapter 9: Advice

  Sniffing in irritation, Kendall plopped into the seat next to Johnnie, later that evening. She’d spent the entire day at this house with Roxy, Meggie, Zoann, Bunny, and the kids. Little Man and Ryan were little terrors at nineteen and twenty-two months, respectively. Harley slept and ate, happy as long as she participated in one of those activities, preferably in someone’s arms.