“Can we move Mama? I..I mean put her in Daddy’s grave with K-P, Arrow, and Tyler?”
“If that’s what you want, baby.” Anything to bring her a measure of comfort.
“It is.”
“You wanna have a service again?”
Tears rushing to her eyes, she tried to smile. She missed her mother so much, even with the raging cunt Dinah had been. Megan would mourn her ma’s death for years, much as she did Patrick. The only difference was she’d finally accepted their son’s death. Although, according to her, there wasn’t a day that went by that their dead son didn’t cross her mind at least once.
“No. I don’t need another service for her. I know you’ll have her moved.”
That’s how much she trusted him. She trusted him to always have her best interests at heart.
“You musta had this shit on your mind for a while, baby.”
“I have,” she admitted.
“You mention it now cuz you think I ain’t had the bills before?”
“I know we do.” She shrugged. “I never found the right time to bring it up. Asking what to do with this awful money seemed right.”
“Megan, diggin’ up Dinah and reburyin’ her ain’t even takin’ half percent of the money.”
She nodded and considered the money again. “This is very bad money. Obtained through awful deeds.”
“Yeah.”
Digger told him Big Joe had burned money that had been kept in the hiding space at the farmhouse. He’d referred to it as blood money. And, yet, this stash had funded a blood trade. What had the motherfucker been thinking?
“Can we find a way to do something good with it?”
“Like what? This money funded bad shit, but it been sittin’ here not harmin’ one motherfucker. It’s kinda fuckin’ innocent when you think ‘bout it.”
She frowned.
“C’mon, baby. Even Mort and Digger acceptin’ the money from Sharper estate once all the shit straightened out.”
“I know they are.”
Sharper had had a lot of assets. He’d made it fucking easy for Mort and Digger to probate his estate by pretending to be blown the fuck up in a hotel and having a funeral to back the claim up. Yet, taxes and past due debts needed to be paid. Char and Tyler had been the life insurance beneficiaries, but upon their deaths the estate absorbed the dollars. It was some complicated bullshit, but Mort and Digger were still taking the fucking money as the motherfucker’s rightful heirs.
“Let’s split this money between everyone,” Megan said into the silence.
“The whole club?”
“If you want, but I meant not only us but Johnnie and Kendall, Val and Zoann, Mort and Bailey, Digger and Bunny, as well as Roxy, Cash, Ophelia, and Stretch.”
He stiffened at the mention of his little sister. Outside of Roxy, Megan had named couples. Christopher couldn’t forget the fact that Cash had fucked Ophelia. The motherfucker had been warned away from her. Had he gone against Christopher and hooked up with her again? “Why Fee? You know something my ass don’t?”
“No. It just seems fair, since she’s part of our family.”
That appeased him. “Okay, baby. Whatever you want.”
She smiled at him. “Right now, I want to go home. Tomorrow’s Halloween and I have to make sure everything’s in place for trick-or-treating.”
Halloween was only the beginning of a bunch of fucking holiday festivities the girls had planned. Christopher was looking forward to some events. Barring their second Christmas together, every subsequent one had been marred with threats hanging over their heads.
In comparison, this year would be a fucking breeze.
John Donovan shifted in his first-row seat at the private recital he was suffering through at the home of his wife’s boss. This fourth performer gave him a fucking headache. Listening to opera piped into the sound system at his house was one goddamn thing. Even hearing the shit in a concert hall was tolerable. But in a room roughly five hundred square feet with nothing but his goddamn ears to absorb the sound…Fuck him, he had to figure out a way to decline Charlotte Redding’s invitations. No, there had to be a way to get Kendall to not want to accept at all.
Either would be equally hard. His lovely wife enjoyed this type of high-class event.
Johnnie fucking despised it.
Kendall smiled at him and he laid a hand on her thigh though the skirt of her evening gown covered it. He liked touching her. Her stiffening in reaction reminded him he couldn’t do any PDA around this crowd. It was considered gauche.
“Improper behavior,” she said under her breath, not removing her gaze from the center of the room. The moment the soprano had caterwauled her first note, Kendall was enthralled. “We don’t want to insult Charlotte.”
She didn’t want to insult Charlotte. If she wasn’t so important to Kendall, Johnnie wouldn’t give a fuck.
“I need a break from these people, gorgeous,” he whispered in return. A permanent break. Fuck. Every two or three weeks he endured these fucking recitals. “This is lasting forever.”
Turning a pleading look to him, Kendall rested her hand on her belly. Immediately, guilt slammed Johnnie and he adjusted the collar on his tuxedo shirt, doing his best to keep his cool. After pretending to enjoy a poetry reading, a Shakespearean skit, a classical music piece, and, now, this, he wanted to rip out the throat of the girl, so she’d never torture another motherfucker again in life. She couldn’t carry a fucking note.
Not. One. Fucking. Note.
He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling as if he’d jump out of his skin. He needed a drink and a cigarette. A joint would be fucking spectacular. He could erase every fucking horrible sound hurting his ears.
Subdued clapping brought his attention back to the girl. Even the fuckers who’d been enraptured by the performance applauded with manners.
“Fifteen-minute recess,” Kendall told him.
“What?” A recess meant… ”This shit isn’t over?”
Kendall lumbered to her feet and thrust her belly in his face. Without thinking, he flattened his hand over the sparkling blue material of her gown. She leaned into his touch, for a brief moment, until she looked over his shoulder.
Charlotte was probably behind Johnnie, so Kendall went back to propriety. A small diamond tiara kept her red hair in place and showcased her sapphire and diamond earrings. She’d spent a fortune on tonight’s outfit, determined to keep up with the other women in attendance.
To Johnnie, it was all so pretentious. Give him club functions any day. That wasn’t to say he didn’t enjoy symphonies, plays, and dinner parties—he even enjoyed these private recitals Charlotte and Brooks held—but on a limited basis.
“There’s a football game on tonight,” Johnnie began, feeling a little pathetic at his plaintive tone. “The guys are at Christopher’s house. If we leave now, I can catch the last quarter.”
“Did I hear you say you’re leaving now?” Leann Higgins interrupted. She was Kendall’s paralegal, a pretty, perky little blonde related to Charlotte. “You two have to stay. I’m up next.”
Fucking great. The last thing he needed was to have to pretend to like a piece so he wouldn’t insult Charlotte’s niece, and, in turn, freak Kendall out.
“What will you perform?”
“Opera. Ava Maria. I’m keeping it simple.”
“I really want to see the game, Leann,” he said with a polite smile, to soften his refusal.
“You’ve got to hear me.” She gave him a dramatic blink and he laughed, unable to stop himself. “Please.”
“Hello, Leann,” Kendall said coolly before Johnnie responded to the girl’s theatrics.
Leann’s bright smile faltered.
“Brandy, sir,” a server said, holding a tray out to Johnnie.
Brandy. Elderberry liqueur. Whiskey. All alcohol on Kendall’s list of drinks that she preferred Johnnie to drink. Everything but a fucking beer. The tray of brandy-filled snifters held out to him left him littl
e choice but to accept. The alternative was going without.
Gritting his teeth and snatching the snifter from the silver tray, Johnny downed the amber liquid in one gulp. The waiter drew himself up, as snooty as the people he served. In no mood to deal with fuckheads, Johnnie narrowed his eyes. The Glock holstered beneath his jacket was a quick solution to appease his boredom, frustration, and annoyance.
Kendall held another glass of brandy out to Johnnie. “Here,” she said graciously. “Just because I love you.”
“Ahh, that’s so sweet,” Leann offered as the waiter stomped off.
“We love each other so much.” Kendall drew herself up and gave her assistant a tight smile. “There’s no one more important to me than Johnnie and he feels the same about me.”
“I know.” Leann either missed the warning in Kendall’s tone or ignored it. “I want a man like yours one day. Witty, handsome, and tall.”
Kendall’s look could freeze hell. “There’s no one better for him than I am.”
To soothe her jealousy, Johnnie placed a hand at the small of her back. “Kendall is my everything,” he said sincerely, wanting to abate her insecurities. He placed a chaste kiss on her forehead when all he wanted to do was hug her tightly and remove all the emotion in her eyes. “Why don’t we leave so I can show you how much I love you?” He winked at her, enjoying her blush.
“You’re so bad, Johnnie,” Leann said with a giggle.
Tasting his brandy, Johnnie grinned at the little blonde. She was always fun to be around.
“How are two of my favorite girls?” Charlotte Redding glided up to their little group, her black gown as elegant as she was. She offered Johnnie a sour look, disliking him because of his biker lifestyle. “Mr. Donovan, you aren’t stressing Kendall out, are you?”
“No, I’m not. I’m having a conversation with my wife and her assistant. Does that meet with your approval?”
“Not if I don’t know what the conversation entails.”
“Charlotte, please, stop being so acrimonious to my husband. He’s a good man and you won’t disrespect him. As I’ve told you on several occasions.”
“I’m looking out for you, Kendall,” Charlotte insisted, unperturbed. “You’ve been on your feet for ten minutes.”
“Because she’s not an invalid,” Johnnie snapped, appreciating Kendall’s defense of him and loving her even more because of it, considering how she went out of her way to not insult Charlotte. The woman sat on several boards, including the one for the private elementary school Kendall wanted Rory to attend when he was old enough.
“I’m certainly not an invalid, although I am heavily pregnant,” Kendall said crisply. “So you’re right, Charlotte. Except, it wasn’t my husband who kept me on my feet, but your niece.”
Charlotte lifted a brow at Leann, who blushed. “You’ll be on in five minutes,” she told her, not addressing Kendall’s accusation.
“Yes, Aunt Charlotte.” Leann faced Kendall. “I didn’t mean to keep you standing. I wanted Johnnie to hear my performance and—”
“Only Johnnie?” Kendall interrupted.
“Well, you’ve heard me sing before,” Leann said breezily.
Charlotte beamed. “Yes, and both Kendall and I agree you have a fantabulous voice.”
Fantabulous? Who the fuck said that in real life?
“Yes, definitely fantastically fabulous,” Kendall chimed in with saccharin sweetness. She smiled at Charlotte. “Johnnie has a meeting to attend, so, sadly, we won’t be able to stay for Leann’s performance. Apologies,” she added, grabbing Johnnie’s hand. “Ready, my love?”
Once Johnnie got his Navigator and drove it on the motor court to get Kendall, he assisted her into the passenger side, then opened the glove compartment and grabbed his pack of cigarettes.
Kendall glared at him, but this one time Johnnie ignored her. After he missed another chance to hang with the guys and sat through tonight, she owed him one smoke, the first he’d had in weeks.
For half the drive from Portland, Kendall sat rigidly in her seat, staring out the window.
“Megan’s dividing the money between us, from the house,” he announced to break through the silence. He hadn’t had a chance to tell her about the call from Christopher after he’d left Megan’s house earlier today.
Johnnie had been going over the books for the medical lab at the time. Then, when he’d gotten home, Kendall was a whirlwind of activity, with Roxy at the house to pick up Rory. A child-free house gave Johnnie and Kendall time for some very quick sex.
“How very nice of Meggie. Always so generous.”
Johnnie sighed. “She’s just Megan.”
“Megs,” Kendall said tightly.
“She hasn’t been Megs to me in months, so—”
“So what is Leann to you?”
Fuck, he should’ve known Kendall wasn’t going to let Leann’s behavior drop. “She’s nothing to me.”
“Nothing but a twenty-five-year-old little blonde who isn’t big and pregnant. She flirted with you and you flirted back.”
“I talked to her.” Although he had to admit Leann had been overly friendly. “Which I wouldn’t have to do if you didn’t drag me to these goddamn boring events.”
She gasped. “Boring? You think hearing the future of cultural entertainment, boring?”
“If what I heard tonight is the future, then we’re in fucking trouble.”
“You are…how dare you…I can’t believe you.”
“Why are we arguing, Kendall?” Johnnie asked unnecessarily. He knew his conversation with Leann upset her, but the woman was impossible. Lately, everything upset her. “If I didn’t talk to Leann, you’d complain about that because Charlotte wouldn’t be happy.”
“She flirted with you! Oh, I want you to hear me sing, Johnnie,” she snarled, doing a piss-poor job of imitating Leann’s softer voice. Kendall’s voice was too sexily husky.
“I don’t care, Kendall. I didn’t want to go, so you know I didn’t want to fucking stay. It doesn’t matter what Leann wanted. My only concern is you, and what makes you happy.”
Something she was more than assured of when she wasn’t pregnant and too stubborn to continue her treatment plan for fear of injuring their baby.
“I’m going to have a talk with her.”
“No, gorgeous. Don’t. There’s no need. She’s harmless, I swear.”
“She’s just a petite blonde like Meggie.”
“Kendall!” Johnnie growled.
“Fine,” she relented, then sniffled. “My feet are hurting me so bad. Do you really have to watch the remainder of that stupid game?”
“Of course not,” he said smoothly, disappointment crashing into him. “I’d much prefer to rub your feet.”
For the first time since they’d started talking, she looked at him and grinned.
As long as Kendall smiled, Johnnie could overlook everything else, even his wish to shoot the shit with Christopher and the rest of the guys.
Megan Caldwell adjusted the vampire cape on CJ, her oldest son, as he jigged from foot-to-foot, restless to rush out the front door behind Harley, his favorite person in the whole world.
“Har-Lay leave me, Mommie,” he complained. He’d gone from calling the daughter of the club’s enforcer Harway to sounding out the pronunciation of her name, turning Har-Lee into Har-Lay. It didn’t matter. The little girl was as enamored of him as he was of her.
Rebel tugged on the skirt of Meggie’s witch’s costume. “Mommie, look me.”
The moment she glanced at her daughter, CJ took off. “Bye, MegAnn,” he screamed over his shoulder. Her son had two speeds—go and go faster.
“CJ, wait!”
Before she could run behind him, Mortician stuck his head in. “Don’t worry, Meggie girl. I got him.”
“Thanks, Mortician,” Meggie called, although she only saw his swinging dreads.
Now that CJ was seen to, she focused her full attention on Rebel, dressed in a witch’s costume si
milar to Meggie’s. Seeing she had her mother’s full attention, Rebel twirled, her blonde hair flying around her.
“You pin,” she said, pointing a little finger at her. Like Meggie’s, her nails were painted orange.
Meggie grinned, obliging her daughter and spinning.
“‘Bout ready to go, baby?” Christopher asked from behind her.
“Daddy!” Rebel squealed as Meggie turned and found Christopher carrying Rule. He was a warlock, although CJ had labeled him an ashfuck for not choosing to be a vampire like him.
Christopher kissed Meggie, briefly trapping Rule between them and causing him to shriek in protest.
“Want down,” he complained.
Obliging Rule, Christopher drew Meggie in for another kiss, before lifting Rebel into his arms and tossing her into the air, grinning at her happy yells.
Life was perfect, with none of the stress of madmen gunning for her husband and anyone associated with the club. Christopher’s worry now was the delivery of Ryder because of Meggie’s past health issues. Meggie knew she’d come out fine, and hoped all the holiday activities distracted Christopher enough to take away most of his anxiety.
In a few weeks, Christopher and CJ would do the holiday inventory, where they tested Christmas lights and weeded out any broken ornaments. This year would be extra special because the twins were at an age where they’d really enjoy what had become a yearly tradition.
This Christmas Eve, Christopher had even promised to share ‘Twas The Night Before Christmas in his own words. Megan had heard it already. He could be rather poetic when he wanted to be. She had only to remember the letter he’d given to her on their honeymoon.
“Picture time,” Bunny crowed, walking into the entrance hall, fumbling with her phone. She was dressed as a cat, complete with tail, whiskers, and cat ears.
“CJ’s already gone,” Meggie said wryly.
“Harley struck the fuck again, huh?” Christopher guessed, setting Rebel on her feet.
“Yep,” Meggie answered.
“Get pictures with him later. We here,” he said, ushering her and the twins over. Arm around Meggie, he situated Rebel and Rule in front of them and nodded to Bunny to take the photos. “Okay, now just you, Rebel, and Bunny, baby.” He took over picture duties. “Now, me and Rule.”
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 273