Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  Digger measured his brother’s size against his own. He was taller than Mortician, but so much leaner. Mort’s massive hands alone could cause serious damage to Digger with one or two blows. He didn’t even want to think about his brother’s arm strength that would allow the man to snap him in half.

  His locks framed his face, so Digger didn’t know if he wore his diamond studs or not, but the skull ring on his right hand was as prominently displayed as his wedding band on the left.

  Tension hung in the air, perspiration beading Digger’s brow, despite the comfortable room temperature.

  “I don’t blame you for hating me,” he began, understanding why motherfuckers just started blurting pleas and excuses to Mort when he hunted them down. “The shit I did unforgivable.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Mort glared at him.

  “With the exception of trying to warn Outlaw about what was coming with Sharper’s attack, I’d do it all over again to save you.” Would any words make a difference in this situation?

  Digger squirmed under Mort’s darkening stare, the same he’d directed at motherfuckers set to die at his hands.

  “You want to beat my ass, too?” In serious fucking pain, he croaked out his challenge.

  “Don’t tempt me, fuckhead,” Mort gritted.

  Digger heeded the advice, in no position to defend himself. At one time, he’d been ranked third in the organization. If Mort hit him, he had the authority to retaliate. That never stopped Mort from fucking Digger up on several occasions. Caught between being a traitor and a civilian again, his brother would be brutal. Therefore, he’d let Mort have his say, so he could leave.

  “I know you’re angry, Mortician. Just get whatever the fuck you have to say out and get the fuck going.”

  His burst of bravery faltered when Mort leaned forward, elbows on knees, and cowered Digger with his unconcealed fury.

  “You know how much I fucking vouched for you? Not only to Prez but the entire fucking club.”

  “I know,” he confessed, hanging his head.

  Outlaw had wanted Mortician as Sergeant-at-Arms and Digger as the enforcer, but Mort had declined and asked for the ballot to be switched. “You been elected in my spot yet?”

  “Fuck you,” Mort spat.

  Digger started to bolt to an upright position until he moved and bumped against the headboard as he plopped back.

  “I never understood why you passed up the position in the first place,” he groaned. “Some bullshit about my rash decisions. I was still the same motherfucker, only in a higher position in the club. You could’ve become SAA and said I just wasn’t fucking qualified to be the enforcer.”

  “I swear to Jesus Christ, you one ungrateful motherfucker, son. You want to know why I asked Prez to choose your dumb ass?”

  “Because you felt sorry for your kid brother. He didn’t have it in him to become an officer without you.”

  “You sure the fuck didn’t,” Mort returned without remorse.

  Digger flinched at the brutal honesty, the first time this was out in the open between them. Before it had been a dirty little tidbit that no one talked about.

  “You think I didn’t fucking know how much you hated living in my shadow?”

  The question shocked him into silence. It was something else he hadn’t considered. He’d just accepted it as his life as Mortician’s brother.

  “Stupid motherfucker,” Mort said with disgust. “I wouldn’t have been qualified to be your goddamn brother if I didn’t know what the fuck yanked your chains. Even though your dumb ass responsible for putting yourself in my shadow. It wasn’t something I ever wanted. You fucking helped it along.”

  By imitating Mort in almost everything. Hair. Attitude. Clothes. But the truth couldn’t be hidden forever if the reality he’d chosen for himself had been a lie.

  “Can’t live in my fucking shadow ranked third in the fucking club,” Mort grumbled into the silence.

  Digger stared at the ceiling, during the one-eye blinking again. “I don’t understand how I envy you so much but love you as much.”

  “You don’t envy me, Digger. You jealous, straight-the-fuck-up, so don’t try to call it nothing fucking else. Give me that much respect and credit to tell me the goddamn truth.”

  “Mort—”

  “Shut the fuck up, you stupid motherfucker.”

  “Second time in thirty seconds you fucking called me that. Don’t fucking do it again.”

  “Or what? You getting up to beat my ass? Stupid motherfucker.”

  Growling, Digger squinted his good eye at Mort.

  “I have a right to be pissed and to call you a stupid motherfucker every hour on the fucking hour for the rest of your fucking life. You know what the fuck you put me through these past months? No, fuck that. Your dumb ass know what the fuck you put me through today? I had to watch you get your brainless fucking ass beat to a fucking pulp this evening. I had to listen to Prez and John Boy pretend to pit Meggie and Kendall and who was more important. But it wasn’t far from fucking pretense. One of them motherfuckers said something too real and shit would’ve got ugly real fucking fast and you would’ve ended up with a fucking bullet in your brain.”

  “As if that made a difference. Outlaw and John Boy always pitted against each other because of Meggie and Kendall.”

  “Shit’s gotten better in the past year. It’s a little fucked up again with Red pregnant right now.”

  “I don’t understand how Outlaw and Johnnie’s words about their women made a difference.”

  “No?” Mort bared his teeth in a semblance of a bitter smile. “You beaten half to death and Prez say he finishing you off because of Meggie girl and how you left her. John Boy mention you being involved in the attack that got Red shot. Prez saying he didn’t give a fuck. It didn’t even matter that you came to warn us or that you saved Little Man or that you took care of Bunny. None of the shit you did for the club mattered because of your actions against Meggie. He knew what the fuck he was doing. Did he mean that shit? I know he fucking meant every word, but if he took it upon himself to stop after he’d been accused of going easy on me for not finding you, who the fuck know what would’ve fucking happened.”

  “Mortician—”

  “Don’t Mortician me, motherfucker. You turned your fucking back on me, Prez, and the entire club. For what? You and me the only motherfuckers left in our family.”

  “No. Maybe, you are for me, but you have Bailey and your daughter.”

  Eyes widening, Mort stared at Digger, before he began to laugh. But it wasn’t a happy laugh. It was more of a so-pissed-it’s-too-fucking-funny-to-describe sound.

  “I finally fucking get it,” Mort said, shaking his head, still chuckling without humor. “Although I haven’t until right now. Fucking sad, too, because maybe some of this would’ve been avoided.”

  “What do you get, Mortician?” Digger snapped, this conversation wearing on him. He needed something for the pain. He needed to think.

  He needed Bunny.

  Bunny. “Where the fuck Bunny at?”

  “With Meggie.”

  “Can you call her and ask her to come in here to keep me company?” he asked, unsure where his burner was.

  “I might,” Mort agreed, not in the least curious about Digger’s request. “Once I finish with you.”

  “Will there be anything left for her to entertain?”

  Mort threaded his fingers through his locks. “Prez knew about all the times I crossed fucking paths with you and let you live. He knew he was risking my life and his own. But he fucking did it anyway. For months, he let me half-ass on the search…He…” Blowing out a frustrated breath, he shook his head. “Don’t you think I have a fucking right to be pissed?”

  “Yeah, Mort,” Digger agreed gravely, swallowing hard. “I don’t know how, but I’ll make it up to you. I promise. I-I don’t know what else to say. I guess the only thing left to say is I love you.”

  “I know,” Mort said, nodding. “That’
s why you did a lot of what you did.”

  The grin Digger gave his brother hurt his face. “Sound like you suffering from the same brotherly love sickness that I am.”

  “Fucking dumb ass,” Mort grumbled, flipping Digger off and straightening in the chair.

  “I’m sorry for what I did. For everything.”

  Sliding his chair as close as he could, Mort raised his fist and Digger did the same. His hand trembled through the fist bump, but the sudden reconnection he felt to Mort lifted his spirits.

  “Tell me something.”

  “Something.”

  “I still owe you a fucking ass whipping,” Mort said with impatience. “I haven’t decided if I’ll exonerate you from it because that would be cruel and unusual punishment to an already fucked-up motherfucker, so don’t fucking tempt me.”

  “What do you want to know?” Digger asked. Mort was right. He’d committed a grave infraction against Bailey and Mort had every right to re-pulverize him.

  “Bunny give you her pussy yet?”

  “That’s—”

  “Because, let me tell you,” Mort interrupted without giving Digger the chance to say that wasn’t his fucking business. “You giving her dick and you fuck over her, Meggie going to have a shit fit. Which mean Prez will too. Bunny not the type of girl for you to fuck over.”

  “You was sniffing behind Bailey so much, how the fuck you know what type of girl Bunny is?”

  “I’m going to fuck you up yet, son. Keep talking about my woman.”

  “Fuck. You morphing into a mini-Outlaw? A possessive maniac about Bailey like he is with Meggie?”

  “Nope.”

  “Thank fuck.”

  “Morph already fucking completed, for your information. I’ve accepted my pussified award with honors.”

  Digger frowned.

  “As for Bunny…” He gave him a sly smile. “Albany, I mean.”

  “What?”

  “I fucking know. Prez still have Meggie watched.” He shrugged. “I just happened to be in the next room when Meggie, Bunny, and Roxy was talking one day. About two months ago.”

  “You heard that her real name is Albany?” Digger asked for clarification. No one needed to know about her past that shamed her so much. Not if she didn’t want them to.

  “I heard everything. That she was a stripper. That she lost her teaching position and the reason for it. Sounded like Meggie already knew and they were just telling Roxy.”

  “It doesn’t make Bunny any different than the other girls,” Digger started heatedly, unable to pick up on how his brother felt about her past as a bout of sharp pain overrode the lingering dull aches.

  “What the fuck you on? I just warned you not to fuck over Bunny. You think I’d tell you that if I gave a fuck about who she threw pussy at in the past? Or the reasons she did? It could’ve been just because she liked dick and it wouldn’t have mattered, so drop the fucking attitude, fuckhead. Your woman a cool chick.”

  “How did we go from me only getting pussy from her to her being my woman?”

  “Your reaction. You gave it the fuck away.”

  “I really care about her,” Digger confessed and then cleared his throat. “But she’s been hurt and she can’t seem to forgive herself for what the fuck she did.”

  “You been hurt, too. By that bitch Peyton.”

  “It’s funny. The way I feel about her. After one or two times of her bullshit, I stopped giving a fuck. When Outlaw blasted her away, all I felt was fucking relief. That’s some cold ass shit.”

  Mort steepled his hands, rested his chin on them, and studied Digger. “Peyton was to you what Charlemagne was to me. A fucking parasite. An evil fucking bitch. I fell hard for Bailey the minute I laid eyes on her. My dumb ass almost ruined it. I almost lost her because I didn’t want to see she was nothing like Char. She never wavered in fighting for me. For us. Until one day she did after I went overboard in my fuckedupness. Don’t let that happen with Bunny. You don’t need to know a bitch forever to know you love her.”

  “You not listening, Mort. I told Bunny I want us to see where we can go. She’s the one who’s hesitating.” Although she’d sucked his cock and sent him fucking flying when he came. That had to account for something. She didn’t like dick sucking and yet she’d done it to him. “I mean she giving me signs that she might be willing.”

  Standing, Mortician went to Digger’s desk that had two drawers and a door built into it. He opened the door and pulled a throwaway tumbler and a nearly empty bottle of gin. Because Mort drank vodka, Digger had stopped buying the liquor when he’d been on his quest to change.

  When Mort poured the liquor into the tumbler and handed it to him, Digger accepted it. “Don’t happen to have vodka, huh?”

  “Behind the bar, but since I didn’t tell you to stop buying it in the first fucking place, deal with what the fuck you got.” He pulled out three little green pills that were oval in shape. “160. Take one.”

  “As if I don’t know. I’m not fucking around with overusing Oxy.” He snatched one of the pills and washed it down with the gin. “I have to pay you your two hundred forty back?”

  “Nope, I bought a few from the club myself. They come in handy sometimes.”

  “For?”

  “Enforcing,” he answered with nonchalance, sitting the two remaining pills on the bedside table and then returning to his seat.

  “You really care about Bunny? Then pursue her until she sees you for real,” he said without allowing Digger to respond. “As long as she look interested, keep at it until you wear her down.”

  “She is. I know it. Some of her actions prove it.”

  “So you have gotten in her pussy?”

  “No. I just know it.”

  “You want to tell me what she did that convinced you?”

  “That’s between me and her.”

  “That’s cool. I hope you and Bunny work it out.”

  “So you’re closing your advice line now?”

  Mort grinned. “Take it or leave it, assfuck, but, yeah, I’m shutting the fuck up.”

  “What’s next, Mort?” Digger asked quietly, some of the pain beginning to float away as the pill got into his system.

  “You have to fucking heal. That’s going to take a few days, considering…”

  How fucked up he was, Digger silently finished on Mort’s behalf.

  “We going on a run, so you’ll probably be at my house or Prez’s while we gone.”

  Fog clouded his brain, stole away a little more of his aches. “Where you going?”

  “To fuck up Sharper.”

  “I should be with you,” he slurred, not able to tolerate strong opioids worth a fuck.

  “You should, but you can’t be this time, so just hold down shit here.”

  “Yeah.” That didn’t seem the correct response, but fuck it. His pain was gone.

  “Mark?”

  “That’s my name.”

  “Give your woman some major attention time. Remember, it’s not always about the dick. Let the heart get involved too.”

  “The heart’s already involved,” he mumbled.

  “You kind of fucked up, so maybe I should leave the instructions in writing.”

  “Ha ha ha,” he mumbled. “You such a funny motherfucker.”

  Mort snickered. “You can start living again. All this shit, including the ass whipping, is fucking history.”

  A chair scraped against the concrete and footsteps pounded away from him. The hinges on the door creaked open, and Digger slid his eyelid closed. Still, Mort’s quiet voice floated to him.

  “I missed you, bro. I’m so fucking glad to have you back.”

  A moment later, the door closed and Digger sank into sleep with the knowledge that he was finally back where he belonged.

  “How are you feeling, Bunny?” Meggie asked as they sat at the table in the breakfast room, the next morning. They’d both picked over breakfast and now pretended to drink their coffee.

 
Sunlight gleamed through the bank of windows. Winter was finally releasing the area from its hold as the month of April crept closer. Although Bunny had missed sleeping next to Digger as she had during their return trip, it felt so good to be in her old room at Meggie’s house.

  “If you need anything, let me know.”

  “I should be offering that to you, Meggie. How are you? You’re the one who was shot.”

  “Yes. And Christopher was stabbed and my mom is dead as are men I’ve known for a very long time. When will it end?”

  “Soon, baby,” Outlaw replied, sauntering into the room, heading to Meggie, as if he owned the world, and kissing her. His luck amazed her. Any other man would’ve succumbed to one of the various injuries he’d received over the years.

  Somehow, Outlaw managed to survive it all.

  “Hey, you,” Meggie breathed, once her husband pulled his mouth away. Her cheeks flushed, she forced a smile. “How’s your back?”

  “Zoann stitched me up good, so don’t sweat it.”

  “You’ve got yourself a super man, Meggie,” Bunny said with laughter.

  “Fuckin’ right,” Outlaw responded, kissing Meggie again before backing away to lean against the wood and glass buffet. “Listen up, Bunny. Since your man wasn’t so fuckin’ super, motherfucker wasn’t even qualified to be a fuckin’ man, and the assfuck ain’t here no more, we have to talk ‘bout your fuckin’ plans.”

  Squirming in her seat, Bunny looked at the floor, then the table. The subject, while expected, took her by surprise, considering everything else going on. She’d also hoped to stay long enough for Digger to heal. “I…well…I thought I’d…I-I mean…you know…”

  “No, the fuck I don’t fuckin’ know cuz you ain’t makin’ fuckin’ sense.”

  Meggie frowned at Outlaw.

  “Well, she ain’t, baby.”

  In turns, he intimidated Bunny and made her feel accepted. She knew his bark was greater than his bite in household matters, so she squared her shoulders. “If Meggie still needs help with the kids, then I’d like to stay on as her assistant.”

  “So you choosin’ to stay here?”

  “Yes.”

  Outlaw folded his arms and cocked his head. “Ain’t like you got other places to go.”