Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  At his words, she trembled and released a sob of fear. Val clapped his hand over her mouth. “Shut up. Outlaw going to shoot your ass off if he find you right now.”

  She sobbed harder.

  “I feel like shooting John Boy ass off for letting her come here.”

  Grabbing Val’s wrist, she moved his hand from her mouth. “He doesn’t know I’m here,” she admitted around her tears.

  “What?” they chorused.

  “Fuck.”

  “Kendall, you not liking being alive too much, right?” Digger asked in disgust.

  “He didn’t kill you,” she snapped. It was as if he’d forgotten all the shit he’d done that Outlaw had overlooked to allow him back into the club.

  “No, but he beat the fuck out of me.”

  “Please. I just need to talk to him. Johnnie hates me. I’m the reason he got shot and—”

  “Yeah, your ass is,” Digger conceded, “but if I know anything about your old man, I know the motherfucker worship the ground your ass walk on. All this shit,” he indicated the plane, “not fucking necessary.”

  “You like fucking drama,” Val spat out and glared at her. “Stay in here. Don’t make a goddamn sound. Come on, Digger. Me and you got to figure out how the fuck to let Outlaw know this bitch on the fucking plane without him fucking us up.”

  “Why would he fuck you up?” Kendall asked, sniffling. “I’m the one who—”

  “And we the goddamn messengers,” Digger snapped. “You ever heard about those motherfuckers getting fucked up?”

  The baby kicked and a sharp pain went through her lower back. Instead of answering, she dropped herself between two crates and burst into tears.

  “Is Kendall here?”

  Johnnie’s frantic question came just as Meggie took the pill Dr. Will had prescribed for her. Pain was in her stomach and lower back. If it continued, she’d drive herself to the ER. On the other hand, she wasn’t too sure if the stress of Christopher’s sudden departure—the reason for it—contributed to the way she felt. Now, Johnnie was coming to her with more Kendall drama, some of which he seemed unaware of, but thanks to Val and Digger she’d been in on since four o’clock this morning. She really had no time to be sick with the current situation.

  “No, Kendall isn’t here.”

  “Megan, please. I can’t find her anywhere. She isn’t answering my calls. I went to our room to ask her to help me change the bandages after Christopher shot me—”

  Narrowing her eyes, she glared at him and went to one of the island stools. “I know he shot you and I know why. So don’t come in here trying to shock me or get me on your side.”

  “You have every right to be angry, but what if Kendall left me again? I was so angry with her, and I took out all my frustrations on her.”

  Snatching her cell phone from her pocket, she shoved it at Johnnie. “She hasn’t left you,” she yelled. “She’s a stowaway on Christopher’s plane.”

  “She’s what?”

  She nodded to her phone so he could read Val’s frantic text message.

  “Is this real?” Johnnie whispered, his face a ghastly white.

  “Why would I make that up?”

  “You didn’t think to call me? They didn’t think to call me?”

  “Don’t you dare blame this on us when it’s Kendall’s fault! What in God’s name made her believe it would be a good idea to get on an airplane with Christopher when he wants to kill her?” She hung her head in her hands. “I thought you knew since you know about every other thing she does.”

  Johnnie sat heavily on a stool, devastation in his eyes. The look deflated Meggie’s anger and she rubbed her eyes tiredly. “He’s not going to kill her.”

  “I can’t believe she did this.”

  Almost as if he were in a fog, he unzipped his leather jacket, revealing his bare chest beneath. Woodenly, he took the jacket off and rubbed his bandaged shoulder.

  “Let me get the medical kit,” she said grouchily and stomped away.

  Kendall was on a fucking plane with Christopher, and not because she was required to be there. No. It was because she was the most hard-headed, rash, frustrating woman Johnnie had ever met.

  Megan sat a plastic medical kit on the counter, then turned to him and pressed on the spot around the bandages,

  “You didn’t go to the hospital, I take it.”

  “It wasn’t life-threatening.”

  “And Brooks?”

  “Christopher told you everything, I see,” he said dryly. With the exception of a few instances, he normally did.

  Biting her lip, she nodded, her focus on his shoulder. “I’m going to be as gentle as possible as I remove the tape.”

  “Don’t. Just rip it off and get it over with.”

  She frowned. “That’ll hurt.”

  “You don’t want to hurt me bad?”

  Giggling, she snapped her eyes to his, and the tension between them floated away. “I really want to punch you and Kendall for the position you’ve placed my husband.”

  He smiled. “Then rip the fucking bandage off. It should expel some of your anger.”

  “Johnnie—”

  “Go ahead, Megs. Do it.”

  For a moment, she hesitated, before she tore the tape and bandages away just as he’d instructed her to do. He grunted in pain.

  “You don’t need to take so much enjoyment from that, you little wench.”

  “If you say so,” she answered demurely. Pulling on a pair of plastic gloves, she touched his stitch line. “It looks good. Are you taking antibiotics?”

  “Yes. Cash hooked me up.”

  Opening three ChloraPrep swab sticks and fresh gauze, she set to work, warning him when he’d feel a sting and reassuring him she was almost finished. Once she completed her nursing, she got a glass of water and two pain pills and offered it to Johnnie. By then, Zoann had arrived with Ryan, Devon, CJ, and Rory. She didn’t look pleased, so Johnnie knew Val had already filled her in.

  “Val said he won’t have time to text me,” she sniffed, glaring at Johnnie.

  “It’ll be fine,” Megan promised and worried her bottom lip, the action betraying her own reservations. “They won’t be gone that long.”

  “I know,” Zoann agreed with a sigh. “A few days.” She shrugged. “It’ll give my fingers a rest from all the texting.”

  “Yes, exactly,” Megan said with a sad smile.

  As usual, she rolled with what came her way. Bunny prepared breakfast, while Megan directed Zoann to a bank bag that she needed for deposits, and saw Diesel off to school.

  As he watched her, he realized Megan’s activities were no different than Zoann’s and Bailey’s. Bailey had a new baby, Harley, Mort, and Roxy in her house. And, in January, she’d return to school. Zoann had her business with Megan. They all ran their households and they all cooked, watched over the kids, and entertained everyone’s families.

  They worked together. Kendall had been right with them until she’d gotten pregnant again. Now, when she returned, he’d have to help her through the trauma of her latest actions and reassure her he still loved her. Normally, the girls would help him, but they seemed past fed up.

  They seemed through.

  “Come on, Rory,” Johnnie called after breakfast finished and only he, Megan, and his son remained in the kitchen. “We have to call Mommie.”

  “Kennaw?” Rory glanced toward the door that led to the hallway of Megan’s house.

  “Mommie,” Johnnie repeated, grinning at the applesauce smeared on Rory’s cheeks and chin.

  Rory whined and raised his arms to Johnnie. “‘Cared Kennaw. No her.”

  “What?” Johnnie asked, aghast at what he understood his son’s words to mean. Rory was scared of Kendall.

  If she heard that, that would break her. The last thing Kendall would want was to terrify their children.

  Johnnie cleared his throat. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, son. Your mother’s a good, kind woman. She’s just not he
rself right now.”

  Johnnie glanced in Megan’s direction, wanting her help. But she was gone, leaving this very telling moment between him and his son just between them.

  Love In An Elevator awakened Christopher from a restless sleep. He’d been dreaming of Megan and the torture in her eyes as he’d kissed her goodbye. She didn’t have to tell him that she was worried about his safety. It was written all over her face. Added to that was her pregnancy and whatever was wrong with her. He’d called Doc Will, but she hadn’t answered. Christopher had no choice but to drop the subject for now.

  He could only do one thing at a time. Getting McCallister off his back, one way or the other and as soon as possible, would allow Christopher to focus solely on Megan. While he cared for her, he’d find time to put Howerton to ground with his cock stuffed in his mouth and his hand up his ass.

  All in due fucking time.

  At the moment, four hours after the plane had departed and while they sat inside it on the tarmac waiting for an eighteen wheeler so they could start unloading the crates of guns on to it, she was calling him.

  “We here, baby,” he told her as he answered. “Shit goin’ smooth as fuck.” If it continued as easily, he’d make it back home in time for the Thanksgiving dinner that he’d warned Bunny to not allow Megan anywhere near. “I’ma call you as soon as we get to the hotel.” He’d have time to talk to her for hours. McCallister wasn’t answering his phone now that Christopher had arrived, but he had the drop off location and he wasn’t meeting with him until tomorrow. “I’m fine. Slept most of the way through.”

  He’d been halfway gone when Val cried about some fucked up door. A little secret few motherfuckers knew was Christopher fucking hated to fly. Whenever he did, on the rare occasions Megan wasn’t with him, he loaded up on sleeping pills. He couldn’t very well be a drugged-up motherfucker with his girl onboard. If something went down, he had to have all his fucking faculties to try and save her life.

  “So, um, if you’ve been sleeping, you haven’t been socializing with anyone who might be on the plane, huh?”

  Those words raised his suspicions and were his first fucking clue shit wasn’t right. Only two other motherfuckers besides him and the pilot was supposed to be on the plane. “What the fuck you talkin’ ‘bout? My ass ain’t fuckin’ here to socialize.”

  “Um’kay. But, er, s-suppose…um, what would happen if someone other than Val and Digger was with you?”

  His second fucking clue she knew something he wasn’t going to like.

  “Megan, I ain’t got time to play fuckin’ sixty questions. What the fuck you tryna say?” An image of a blond headed motherfucker rose in his head and Christopher scowled. Megan would call to save Johnnie. “Motherfucker on this plane, right, baby? Johnnie. After I fuckin’ suspended him, he brought his ass on this motherfucker? Well, listen up, Megan. I’m beatin’ his fuckin’ ass because—”

  “Would you shut up, Christopher?” she sniffed. “It isn’t Johnnie.”

  “Then who the fuck…?” As his voice trailed off, he pictured a red-headed psycho bitch, the only other motherfucker Megan knew was on his hit list. “No,” he said in denial. “You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me, right, baby? That cunt ain’t got on this motherfucker with me.”

  “Well, um, it d-depends on what cunt you’re talking about.”

  “You know who the fuck my ass talkin’ ‘bout,” he yelled, unable to contain his anger that Johnnie’s bitch would have the fucking nerve to stow the fuck away. “Motherfuckin’ Kendall. Tell me that bitch ain’t here with me.”

  “Here might be a relative term,” she told him. “You might be in one part of the plane and she’s in another.”

  Without thinking, he stormed to his feet and threw his phone aside, intending to fucking kill that bitch. Unfortunately, Digger and Val met him halfway and blocked his advance.

  “Where the fuck she at?”

  “Now, Prez.” Digger raised his hands but didn’t touch him. “Think about this before you see her.”

  He pulled his nine from his waistband and aimed it at Digger, his trigger finger itching with the urge to fire. “I ain’t gotta think ‘bout fuck all. I already fuckin’ know.”

  “Outlaw,” Val started. “That bitch is nuts. Please. You can’t fucking kill an insane bitch. She as bad as Dinah or worse.”

  Digger smacked the back of Val’s head the moment the words left his mouth. Mentioning Dinah wouldn’t win Kendall no points. Thinking of Megan’s ma angered him all the fucking more. Val must’ve realized his mistake and had the fucking grace to look regretful.

  “Dinah, huh? Look how the fuck that turned out.” Megan’s ma had tried to fuck him up and got fucked up instead, after helping one of the brothers to betray the club. True, Arrow had used her illness to his advantage, but it still resulted in the same thing. Betrayal and death.

  The ringer on Val’s phone blared through the small space.

  “Jesus H. Christ, thank God,” he said as he answered, hitting the speaker phone button.

  “Christopher,” Megan called, frantic. “Please. Think about what you’re doing. If you kill Kendall, you’ll break Johnnie’s heart and you’ll leave Rory without a mother. She’s also carrying a baby, so you’ll hurt it,” she added.

  “I gave that bitch a pass, Megan,” he snarled. “It ain’t my fuckin’ fault she a stupid motherfucker who can’t take a reprieve when she fuckin’ get one.”

  “Christopher—”

  “Shut up, baby. Tell me you ain’t pissed as a motherfucker with her.” If she did speak those fucking words, he’d call her a lying, little motherfucker. Kendall’s actions of the past few days would piss a saint the fuck off.

  “I’m furious with her,” she admitted, “but that doesn’t mean I want her dead.”

  And Christopher really didn’t want to kill a pregnant bitch. The little baby was innocent. It wasn’t her fault who her ma was. He scrubbed a hand over his face. He couldn’t fucking believe Kendall had brought her ass on this plane after all the trouble she’d caused.

  Who the fuck did that?

  “Stay the fuck in bed, Megan,” he growled in frustration, then stalked back the way he came, taking his seat.

  “Prez?” Digger said a minute later.

  “Keep that cunt the fuck away from me,” he grumbled. Knowing he was in close confines with her tested his patience. He truly believed Kendall’s existence served no purpose. Her best fucking state was a dead one.

  He shifted in his seat, noticing his phone on the floor. As he retrieved it, he thought only a truly psycho bitch would put herself in such a situation. Pregnant or not, fucking her up might be a fucking cruel and unusual punishment. How-fucking-ever, he wouldn’t fucking tempt himself.

  The further he stayed away from that cunt, the fucking better.

  By the time the arms were unloaded from the plane and onto the truck Christopher rented using a fake name, it was mid-afternoon. He was tired, cold, and hungry. Most of all, he missed Megan. They hadn’t had any more than five fucking minutes to talk since she’d called to save Kendall’s miserable life. He couldn’t exactly drag his fucking ass and stop to call his wife, considering his fucking activities.

  “Kendall said she cold, Prez.” Digger tossed aside his smoke. He’d been in charge of psycho cunt, tasked with keeping her the fuck out of Christopher’s sight. “She hungry, too.”

  That pissed Christopher off even more cuz he’d lost a helping hand. Instead of having Digger assist with moving the guns, he’d had to baby-fucking-sit. John Boy needed to have a serious talk with her. Tell her to thank her lucky fucking stars. If Christopher had come the fuck across her stowed the fuck away, he wouldn’t have thought about any-fucking-thing but repaying her for her inter-fucking-ference.

  “She want to know how much longer.”

  Christopher rounded on Digger, his breath puffing out in cold drafts.

  “He just the messenger, Outlaw,” Val grunted as he hefted one of the smaller box
es containing ammo. “Don’t fuck him up.”

  “Where she at?”

  “In the fucking lounge. Not too happy because it’s not much of a fucking lounge,” Digger explained.

  No shit. It wasn’t as if they were at JFK or O’Hare. Bitch was lucky they had a fucking room called a goddamn lounge.

  “We finishin’ up in the next fifteen or twenty minutes. Get a fuckin’ taxi and then call Stretch to find out where the fuck we stayin’.” At the moment, Cash and Stretch were doing their assigned duties of surveillance and securing rooms. “Text me the fuckin’ address.”

  “She not in a good way, Prez,” Digger said quietly. “She hungry and tired and crying. A lot.”

  Christopher didn’t feel sorry for her in the least. She did this to her own goddamn self. “All that bitch ever do is cry.”

  “You not having a problem if I stop and feed her first?”

  “If it shut her the fuck up, feed her. Throw her a fuckin’ bone. I don’t give a fuck. Just keep her the fuck away from me.”

  “I’ll pick up something to eat for all of us,” Digger decided. “Have it waiting for you and Val to be warmed up.”

  “Sound good to me.” Val looked as fucking exhausted as Christopher felt. They’d had little rest, a long flight, and a lot of heavy fucking lifting.

  Stopping for a smoke, Christopher leaned against the truck and pulled his flask from inside his cut, glad he’d remembered to fill it up before he boarded.

  “Four more crates,” Val called from the doorway of the plane.

  Christopher swigged from the flask and swiped his arm over his mouth to remove the tequila left on his lips. “Fuck, let’s do this.” Shoving his alcohol back in his pocket, he geared up to finish.

  Twenty minutes later, he slammed the door on the truck. The muscles in his arms ached. He needed a hot shower, a little Aunt Mary, and a fifth of tequila. He pulled up the map of the old warehouse one of his chapter presidents had gotten for him after McCallister sent the drop off location early this morning.

  Christopher was too fucking tired to unload these crates for a third time in less than twenty-four hours, so he intended to drive the truck to the place, park it, and then get to the hotel and start all over again in the morning.