Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  A touch of madness hit Cash at those words. They touched a guilty nerve. “And you haven’t, motherfucker? Before Fee, you moped around, a sad sack of an asshole who thought the world owed you something because you were a goddamn cripple. Shit happens, Stretch. You could’ve overcome a lot of shit if you’d gotten rid of some of your pain.” He pointed to the scar, that only Stretch ever noticed. “You could’ve had plastic surgery. It wasn’t until she gave you pussy that you remembered you were worth more than what those motherfuckers did to you, so fuck you. You valued her too.”

  Stretch released a bitter laugh. “I can’t believe you, asshole. You look down on me when you need to look in the fucking mirror. You’re adrift. Aimless. You have no fucking goals beyond sticking your cock in everything. What the fuck do you see for your future? Nothing. You live for the fucking moment, and fuck the consequences. Our moments consisted of fucking, drinking, and smoking weed. Hiding at your fucking house. I want more.”

  “Good fucking luck.” Cash refused to address Stretch’s comments. He might lose it completely and shoot that motherfucker’s ass off. “I’m not getting my dick cut off to have an open relationship with you.”

  “Of course you aren’t. You’re a goddamn coward. I hide behind my injuries and my grief? You hide behind your childhood and your wealth. You use motherfucking Parnell as the excuse to do fuck-all with your life. Welcome to the sad sack club, Cash.”

  Cash had had enough. The longer he stayed, the more they’d hurt each other. Unlike Fee, whom he could avoid indefinitely, Stretch was his club brother and in Outlaw’s inner circle. He’d expect civility.

  With a last glower, Cash mounted his cycle, ignoring the wound that Stretch’s words had opened.

  Locked in the room she always used at Christopher’s house, Fee spent the entire night in tears, unable to sleep, barely able to speak. As a knock came on her door, she thought to ignore it, as tired and hurt as she was, but decided it was best to answer it. She wasn’t in her own house, and she didn’t want to alarm Meggie.

  “Come in,” she sniffled, her head pounding.

  Christopher entered carrying a tray and she burst into tears all over again. He frowned, then sat the tray containing a glass of juice and two slices of toast on the bedside table.

  “Wanna tell me what the fuck happen?”

  Last night, when she’d arrived home with Meggie, Fee had run to the room. She hadn’t heard Meggie’s explanation. At the time, she hadn’t cared what her sister-in-law said. In the light of day, she did.

  Unable to speak, Fee shrugged. After what they’d shared in Kansas City, she couldn’t believe Cash could be so cold and callous.

  Christopher sat on the side of the bed. Discomfort furrowed his brow and he stared at her, her tears breaking the silence.

  “Fuck me, Fee. Who I gotta kill?”

  “No one!” she wailed, face-planting against the pillow.

  “Stop cryin’, baby. I ain’t knowin’ what the fuck to do. Your face all red and splotchy and your eyes swollen like a motherfucker. They gonna close the fuck up if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

  “Spoken like a true asshole,” Kendall sneered from the doorway.

  Christopher’s expression went from sympathetic to annoyed in the blink of an eye. Standing, he gritted his teeth. “What the fuck that cunt doin’ here, Fee?”

  As if she knew. It was quite early in the morning. “Um, Kendall?”

  “As her friend and former employer, I needed to check on her.”

  “How the fuck she get in here?” Christopher continued.

  More to the point, how did Kendall know about what had happened? Had Meggie called her?

  Christopher glared at Fee. “You invite her here this early?”

  As promised, Meggie seemed to have told him about Fee not working anymore because he wasn’t the least bit surprised at Kendall’s announcement. That didn’t matter right now. His fierce frown made Fee believe if she answered no, Kendall would be sorry, so she nodded. “Yes.”

  Ignoring Christopher, Kendall smirked, reminding Fee of all that she held over her head. Not only could she blab about Fee’s relationship with the two men, Kendall could reveal to Christopher that Fee had known her intentions to mess with his marriage.

  “Fee, this gotta do with Cash and Stretch?” he asked, glowering at Kendall.

  “C-Cash and Stretch?” she stammered through sniffles. “What do you mean?”

  “What do you mean?” Kendall echoed.

  Christopher stiffened, his eyes narrowing.

  “Wh-what do they have to do with…with…Noah?”

  The superiority slipped from Kendall’s face and she lifted her brows. Even Christopher seemed taken aback.

  “Who the fuck that?” he asked.

  “A g-g-guy I’ve been d-d-dating,” she lied. “We had an awful argument and he ended it with me.”

  “He ain’t hit you, huh?”

  She shook her head.

  “Forced you to give him pussy?”

  “No.”

  “What the fuck it be about then? You cryin’ too much for it to be just some insignificant argument.”

  “It’s too early in the morning for you to use your big word quota,” Kendall taunted.

  They both ignored her.

  “It…I want more, Christopher,” Fee told him, sticking as close to the truth as possible. “He doesn’t.”

  Christopher studied her, then nodded. “This motherfucker got a last name?”

  “Carson.”

  “Address?”

  She didn’t know specifics, only that he lived close to the neighborhood bar. Close to Cash. “Let me handle this, please.”

  “Fee—”

  “Please, Christopher,” she begged. “I swear if I need your help, I’ll come to you.”

  He sighed, but relented, leaning down to pull her into an awkward hug. “I know you a grown bitch, Fee. My ass just hate to see you so fuckin’ hurt.”

  “Then stay the fuck out of her room, Outlaw.”

  Straightening, Christopher cocked his head to the side. “Lemme ask you, Fee. You think psycho cunts know when they pushin’ a motherfucker? Cuz I know one fuckin’ crazy bitch I’m about to pull my piece on and blow the fuck away.”

  “You wouldn’t dare while I have Johnnie’s baby inside of me.”

  “Megan upstairs with Ryder. Ain’t a motherfucker around stoppin’ my ass from shootin’ the fuck outta whoever and hangin’ them by their big fuckin’ toes in the fuckin’ meatshack.”

  “Is that what you did to Daphne?” Kendall yelled, not getting a clue that Christopher was reaching the end of his limit. Besides, he hadn’t addressed Kendall directly.

  “C-can I talk to Kendall alone?” Fee asked, before things got worse.

  Christopher grunted, glared at Kendall, then stalked away.

  The moment he left, Kendall came to Fee’s bedside and sat, taking her into her arms. “I knew those assholes were no good for you.”

  “Meggie told you about the argument?”

  “Oh please. Meggie is too busy giving my husband advice to talk to me about anything. Me and Johnnie were at the club last night when Mort came in. He mentioned Meggie had brought you to the house because you had an argument with a friend. Johnnie might’ve bought it, but I knew immediately.”

  “I see.” Fee sat up, forcing Kendall to release her. “You’ve come to blackmail me again?”

  Lowering her lashes, Kendall settled her hand on her stomach, showing the slightest hint of a bump. “Will you ever let me live that down?”

  Tears welled in Fee’s eyes again. “You hurt me. Now you’re here for whatever reason.”

  “To console you. I swear. You came to me after Daphne’s death, when you didn’t have to. It showed me a lot, Fee.”

  As much as she wanted to, Fee wouldn’t easily trust Kendall, so she shrugged and leaned toward the tray, smiling when she noticed two aspirin on a napkin. She did have a splitting headache.

  �
��Do you want the tray?” Kendall asked.

  “Yes.”

  After taking the aspirin, Fee piled pillows behind her and settled against them.

  “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

  Maybe, she was being unforgiving and mean, but she had enough to worry about. She didn’t need to concern herself with Kendall taking Fee’s confidence for granted and using it at her whim. “There’s nothing to tell.”

  Kendall’s shoulders slumped. “Fine, Fee. Have it your way,” she said bleakly.

  Her ringing phone prevented a response. She knew it wasn’t Cash or Stretch because it wasn’t either of their ringtones. The number didn’t register, so she let it go to voicemail.

  “Kendall, I’d really like to be alone.”

  “Fee, you look horrible. If I leave you alone, you’ll cry yourself into a pathetic stupor that only days of sleep would help.”

  “Bye, Kendall,” Fee snapped as her phone beeped, alerting her to a message.

  “Aren’t you going to check that?”

  Though she wasn’t particularly curious about her unknown caller, Fee decided to take Kendall’s suggestion.

  “Hello, Ophelia. This is Noah Carson. Give me a call.”

  Fee gasped.

  “Is there a problem?”

  “Have you ever heard about strange coincidences?” she asked, disconnecting the call.

  “Haven’t we all? For instance, the car belonging to James Dean, the 50s movie star—”

  “I know all about the cursed car, Kendall. I’m not talking about that,” Fee said with irritation. For a woman into classical music, legal briefs, and prestige, she mentioned pop culture at the most inconvenient times. “I mentioned Noah to Christopher and he called me. I don’t remember ever giving him my number.”

  Kendall flushed. If Fee didn’t know better, she’d suspect Kendall was somehow involved. Crap! Now she was stereotyping the woman and, maybe, it was unfair. However, she’d stay on the side of caution and be wary of Kendall’s tactics.

  She rubbed her head. “I guess I did if he’s calling me.”

  “That’s probably it, Fee. Or, he got it through the grapevine. For instance, I have the code to get into the house because of Johnnie. Outlaw wants his boys to be able to get to Megan if she’s in distress. Therefore, we wives have it, too. It could be something as innocent as that.”

  So that’s how Kendall let herself in this morning. “True. But everyone isn’t meant to use that code.” Even Fee knew that without being told. “I wouldn’t advise you to make a habit of walking into Christopher’s house unannounced and uninvited. You might be mistaken for a home invader and you know what happens to them.”

  Kendall brushed over Fee’s warning with a shrug. “What did Noah want?”

  “I’m not sure,” she admitted. Neither was she interested in finding out.

  Getting to her feet, Kendall smiled. “Call him, Fee,” she suggested. “I know you’re hurt, but you’ve wasted enough of your life on two undeserving assholes. You want a family. You’re not getting any younger, so it’s time to find a man who’s willing to make your dreams come true. You owe it to yourself. Now, I have to head home to put on something more appropriate than yoga pants and a t-shirt. Charlotte and I are meeting for brunch.”

  That news ruined Fee’s morning all over again and she spent the rest of the day in bed.

  Day four after the breakup brought overcast skies that matched Stretch’s mood. He couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been to stick with Cash and then to agree to keeping Fee.

  Pressing the remote to close the gate behind a woman there to meet with Bunny for whatever, Stretch limped back to the seat Outlaw made an exception for him to have. He rarely manned the gates nowadays, allowing other brothers to take over the responsibility in his stead while he moped about.

  In that, Cash had been right. But what did the motherfucker expect him to do? Jump for fucking joy that he’d lived? Forget Hanson’s horrible death? Stretch’s biggest fear was recovering and forgetting the pain and suffering. What would be the point of Hanson’s death then?

  What would be the point of his life? If he hadn’t meant anything to anyone else, he’d been something to Stretch.

  When he thought about it, life was pointless. He couldn’t take anything with him when he died. Stretch didn’t even know where the fuck he’d go. Heaven? Hell? A black void?

  Instead of spouting all her bible verses, his mother should’ve taken the time to explain that to him. No one said a fucking thing that she’d used him to ease her grief, stuck in the land of the dead, while they wanted him to be in the land of the living. His dad, miserable motherfucker that he was, died in his fucking sleep.

  Hanson had been murdered.

  “Stretch?”

  Johnnie’s call broke into his thoughts. He didn’t want to talk to any of the guys, but most especially Johnnie. He was married to Kendall. Alerting her to their secret affair had been the beginning of the end for Stretch, Cash and Fee.

  It had been hard enough for Cash to commit without Fee stealing their hearts and ruining Stretch’s life more than it had already been.

  “Christopher’s looking for you. He’s been calling you on your phone.”

  Stretch left his phone in his room. After the first day with no call from Fee or Cash, he didn’t want to keep the phone with him, hoping it would ring.

  “I’m on gate duty.”

  “Wrong, motherfucker. If you don’t get the fuck up and walk your ass into the club, Digger will be on death duty. Yours. You should’ve answered your fucking phone.”

  “I don’t have it with me, Johnnie.”

  Johnnie grabbed Stretch’s cane from the ground and held it out to him. “What’s up with you?”

  “What do you mean?” he asked with resentment, grabbing his cane and coming to his feet with no small amount of pain.

  “You know what the fuck I’m talking about. What has you in such a shitty mood?”

  “Cash,” he grumbled, knowing Johnnie would understand.

  “I see.”

  They reached the clubhouse door. “What do you see? That Cash is an asshole?”

  “I see why Cash hightailed his drunk ass out of town two days ago.”

  He’d done what?

  Stretch glanced at Cash’s bike, sitting in its usual spot in their line of wheels. He’d thought they were avoiding each other. It hadn’t occurred to him that Cash had left.

  “Is he coming back?”

  “That’s what Christopher wants to know.”

  “How should I know?” Stretch shouted, drawing the attention of patrolling probates.

  Johnnie’s eyes glinted. “Strike two, motherfucker. I don’t need to tell you the meaning of strike three.”

  “Sorry, John Boy,” he mumbled.

  “Christopher is also suspicious that Fee’s devastation has to do with whatever’s going on with you and Cash.”

  It didn’t matter. If Outlaw found out, he’d put Stretch out of his misery.

  Stretch stepped into the clubhouse, without answering, and headed to Outlaw’s table, where the guys sat, while Meggie cleared away lunch dishes.

  At his approach, Meggie smiled at him, her gaze taking him in from head-to-toe, her concern touching him as she scampered away, her hands full.

  “Fuck me,” Outlaw growled, and nodded to one of the three empty chairs.

  Mort and Val didn’t say a word as both Johnnie and Stretch took their seats.

  “What the fuck goin’ on, Stretch?”

  Stretch lowered his gaze. Fee wouldn’t want him to bitch out and commit suicide by Outlaw. Wait a fucking minute. He didn’t give a fuck what she wanted. Right? “It’s over between Cash and me.”

  “It’s always over between you two motherfuckers,” Val pointed out.

  “Yeah, Stretch,” Outlaw agreed. “What the fuck different now?”

  Fee.

  “Everything,” he snapped, missing her as much or more than Cash. She’d gi
ven him the respect he hadn’t felt he deserved in months, if ever. “Cash is an asshole.”

  Every time he spoke Cash’s name, thought of Fee’s voice, his heart twisted.

  “You fuckin’ my lil’ sister?”

  “No.” The lie came easy, automatic. Instead of guilt at telling a blatant untruth to his prez, Stretch felt nothing. “Why?”

  “You sounded a little irritable, son,” Mort said, lighting a cigarette. “Talking really sharp to Prez.”

  “You should’ve heard how he spoke to me,” Johnnie announced, not in the kindest way.

  Four pairs of eyes lasered him, and Stretch flushed, the dire situation breaking through his anger, hurt, and upheaval.

  “Cash still fuckin’ Fee, yeah?” Outlaw asked. “He broke it off with you and her, huh?”

  Elbows on table, Stretch cradled his head in his hands. “Fee has nothing to do with this. If she’s going through something, we have nothing to do with it.”

  “Stretch, lemme tell you, I find out you lyin’ to me, you ain’t gonna like the repercussions too much. Under-fuckin-stand?”

  “Yes.”

  He could’ve pointed out that Fee was a grown woman, capable of making her own mistakes, but he knew better.

  “If you wanna talk about what the fuck Cash did, I’m fuckin’ here anytime, hear me, Stretch?”

  “Yes, Outlaw,” he responded. “Loud and clear.”

  “Only fuckin’ thing my ass can tell you is what the fuck every motherfucker say—if Cash for you, the motherfucker can fly to Mars to escape you. You either flyin’ the fuck there, too, for some reason, or he flyin’ the fuck back.”

  In other words, if it was meant for Cash and Stretch to be together, nothing would keep them apart. Not even Fee.

  Several times over the next couple weeks, Fee pulled up Cash’s phone number to call him and attempt to change his mind. Just as quickly, she’d find Stretch’s number, before reminding herself neither of them had tried to call her, so she wouldn’t go out of her way to bridge the chasm, when her request was simple.

  Tit-for-tat wasn’t a way to make a relationship work, but neither was hiding. Perhaps, if Kansas City hadn’t happened, she wouldn’t know what it felt like to have the freedom to go anywhere they pleased and not just a neighborhood bar. That taste of what it could be like gave wings to her dreams.