Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  “I give two warnins, three tops. If motherfuckers still fuck with me after, that’s their fuckin’ business. Bitches included.” He’d given Kendall chance after chance, but he was reaching the end of his rope with her, too.

  Derby lit a cigarette. “You’re here about your little sister’s attack?”

  “Yeah.” With his boys on the hunt, it didn’t surprise him that Derby knew the score. “I want this motherfucker bad. He carved up Fee.”

  “We’re already putting out feelers.” As a Dweller support club.

  “I’m payin’ a fuckin’ bounty for that motherfucker. A quarter rock. Bring him to me. I wanna pull his limbs from his fuckin’ ass while he still fuckin’ alive.” Just thinking of the torture he’d put Noah through made Christopher’s heart pound. “Tell your boys this ain’t the normal help. This fuckin’ SOS. Personal now. I ain’t even carin’ this motherfucker been blowin’ up my goddamn phone for months. He scoped out my lil’ sister, cozied up to her and carved her the fuck up to get my attention.” At least that’s what Christopher guessed. If Riley hadn’t revealed Noah’s identity, he wouldn’t have associated him with Counts. Christopher would’ve thought Fee had gotten another abusive asshole. The burning question was… “How the fuck that motherfucker made the connection between me and Fee?”

  “If we get that word, we’ll let you know. What else do you need? Guards at the hospital?”

  Christopher shook his head. “She at Mercy. Out of our jurisdiction. I got a promise that hospital security going to keep her safe.” He’d already contacted Brooks to have funds transferred to the hospital CEO.

  “Any other jobs on the horizon?” Derby asked as his old lady walked up to them.

  “Hey, Outlaw,” Gypsy greeted.

  “How you been, babe?”

  “Fine. Derby and me about to celebrate fifteen years.” She turned an adoring smile to her old man. “Next week.”

  “Congratu-fuckin-lations,” Christopher said, glaring at Derby’s indulgent look.

  “We’re thinking of having a party to celebrate. I’ve been talking to Bunny. I told her to tell Digger to clue Derby in on making an honest woman of me. Maybe, you can do it.”

  No the fuck he couldn’t. “It take a special motherfucker to be in Club Pussification.”

  Gypsy laughed. “Club what?”

  “Pussification. The club where motherfuckers know a good bitch when he find her and ain’t about to do nothing to fuck it up.”

  “You mean the one where bitches take your balls?” Derby chortled.

  Christopher didn’t have fucking time to clue this motherfucker the fuck in.

  “You only live once,” Derby added.

  Gypsy lowered her lashes and her shoulders slumped. Christopher got the impression she knew Derby still cheated on her, but looked the other way. “I’m so happy for Bunny,” she said.

  “Megan over the fuckin’ moon. My wife got a soft fuckin’ heart.”

  “That’s how she tamed you,” Gypsy speculated.

  Christopher snickered. “Megan scare the fuck outta me,” he teased. At least, he pretended to. In reality, she turned him into a pussified bitch. “I ain’t doin’ nothin’ to make her leave my ass in the dust. I fuck over her or hit her, she takin’ herself and my kids and skippin’ out.” He thought for a moment. “She’d be a stupid cunt to let me do whatever the fuck I want. I’d never have no respect for her.” Just as Derby didn’t for Gypsy. “I admire the fuck outta her and respect her even more.”

  Gypsy nodded and fell silent before standing. “Dinner will be at six,” she told Derby, then hugged Christopher. “See you, babe.”

  “Yeah.”

  After she left, Derby called for a bottle to be brought to them while Jax rolled a joint and passed it around.

  “What you said to Gypsy was meant for me,” Derby guessed.

  “Nope, it was directed at her.”

  Derby sipped his tequila. “I do love her.”

  “Sayin’ and showin’ two different things.”

  “I show her. I allow Jax and his friends to do shows with her and her bitch crew once a month.”

  Christopher glanced at Jax, who sat at the table in silence. The motherfucker was a male dancer or had been, before he became club enforcer. Apparently, he still fucking practiced his talents.

  “Good for you for allowin’ her to see Jax swingin’ his cock. She ain’t throwin’ pussy around like you slingin’ dick, so shut the fuck up.”

  “Give me some credit, Outlaw. I don’t fuck other bitches as much as I once did.”

  For all Christopher cared, Derby could fuck a harem. How the fuck had they gotten on this topic any-fuckin-way? He should be thinking about his possible pussy lockout. “Ain’t my problem if you fuck other bitches. That’s between you and Gypsy.”

  Derby nodded. “I’ve been meaning to discuss a rumor with you.”

  “About?”

  “Ghost McCall.”

  “Must not be fuckin’ important if you tellin me cuz my ass here.”

  “As I said, Gypsy, er…” Flushing, Derby looked at Jax.

  He grinned. “His old lady broke his arm when he gave her a black eye.”

  “You thought I deserved it, Jax,” Derby growled.

  “You did, Derby. Women are to be honored not hurt.”

  “Yeah, Gypsy shoulda cut your fuckin’ dick off and then took the kids and fuckin’ skipped out,” Christopher said, wondering if Megan knew about this. Gypsy had been one of her first friends outside of the club, but she’d pulled back because of Derby’s bullshit. Megan and Fee’s friendship had been sidetracked for a moment after Patricia’s death.

  Fee. Fuck.

  No, there wasn’t a motherfucking thing he could do about her right now, so putting his feelings on hold to find out what the fuck Derby was talking about wouldn’t hurt a motherfucking thing.

  “What you gotta say about Ghost?”

  “Slipper comes in here from time-to-time.”

  “Fuck.”

  “He’s a real loyal brother,” Derby said. “Admires you. He was here a bit ago. That’s why it surprised me to see you. Slipper told me a story, a variation of what he’s been saying for a while. This one’s more…troubling.”

  Christopher knew what it was. They’d all seen how Cash and Stretch had acted at the hospital. Then, today, during church, those two motherfuckers couldn’t stay away from each other. He couldn’t protect fuckheads who didn’t want to be fucking protected. “Spit it the fuck out,” he growled, pretending to be clueless.

  “When Slipper went to get Ghost from his house, Stretch’s bike was parked in front the door.”

  “So? The motherfuckers friends.”

  Derby shrugged. “There’s a lot more. He’s gathering evidence to bring to you that Ghost and Stretch are fucking, so far he hasn’t gotten what he needs, but he claims he’s hot on their trail.”

  “The motherfucker on the wrong fuckin’ trail. His ass should be findin’ fuckin’ Noah, not worryin’ if two brothers fuckin’.” Wait until he got his fucking hands on Slipper. He’d go the way of fucking Cowboy and his cronies.

  Then, when Fee was out of the woods, Christopher intended to kick Cash and Stretch the fuck out of the club for their own fucking safety.

  Fuck, for making him have to lose Cash and Stretch, Slipper’s death would be so painful.

  He got to his feet, his fingers twitching to pull his weapon. “Don’t be spreadin’ fuckin’ rumors about my brothers, Derby.”

  Standing, Derby held up his hands. “I’m not. I just thought you should know. Personally, if it was me—”

  “It ain’t you. If you lay a fuckin’ hands on my brothers cuz of fuckin’ rumors, I’ma fuck your entire club up.”

  “Fuck, Outlaw! Sit.”

  At Christopher’s growl, Derby sighed.

  “Please? I’d never get on your bad side. I didn’t say that to offend you.”

  Christopher scowled between Derby and Jax. “Get back on my g
ood side and scope out fuckin’ Noah.”

  Taking his life in his hands, Derby grabbed Christopher’s arm. As a fellow president, he had a certain status. However, no man grabbed another motherfucker without expecting to die.

  “I’m forty-five years old, Outlaw,” Derby whispered. “With a twenty-six-year old son. A gay son. I’d kill any motherfucker who went after him. My members are aware. I gave them a choice when my kid first came out. They could patch out and pretend not to know if they wanted to live. Or they could stay and look the other way. They didn’t have to agree with my kid, but if they fucked with him, I’d kill them. Plain and simple.” Releasing Christopher, he licked his lips. “Slipper also said Cash and Stretch have been fucking Ophelia. Together. Take it from me. The brother’s intentions are good. He thinks he’s doing you a favor by spying. Warn your brothers to lay low. Slipper won’t move without solid proof and he doesn’t want to piss you off. He’s fucking scared of you. After you avenge Ophelia, give your members the choice I gave mine. I know your brothers aren’t your kid, but if they mean anything to you—to your little sister—take my advice.”

  For a long moment, Christopher stared at Derby, rolling his words over in his head. He nodded, clapping the man’s back. “Thanks, brother,” he said.

  Sometimes, a little advice went a long fucking way.

  When Megan was stabbed, Christopher couldn’t sit around the hospital and wait for status updates about how she fared. He didn’t have children to see to nor had it settled into him that she was his heart and soul. Her shooting revealed just how much she meant to him and how lost he would’ve been without her. News of his sisters’ and nieces’ deaths had come while she’d still been in the hospital. He’d locked himself in his room and taken out his grief and frustration alone. Not necessarily in peace, but in solitude, broken only by his rage.

  Arriving home after visiting Fee and then Derby, Christopher didn’t have the luxury of pondering all that had been discussed in the past few hours. Megan was ordering him to get ready for dinner over the music she had blasting. His children were running through the house, screaming at the top of their lungs. Digger was entertaining Ryder, while Bunny set the table before rounding up the kids so they could eat.

  The entire noisy process took twenty minutes. Christopher didn’t feel like eating. He wanted to go to his room and lock himself inside. Or go to his office at the club.

  “’Law! ‘Law! ‘Law!” CJ chanted as Christopher walked into the dining room to find his children in their respective seats and Ryder in his high chair as Megan and Bunny sat dishes of steaming food on the table runner.

  With Bunny living there, Digger was a frequent dinner guest. Tonight, even he was working on Christopher’s ass, piling food onto his plate as the girls set the dishes out. Megan’s stern look or Bunny slapping his hand away didn’t deter him.

  “Wait for mommie, Ashfuck Dig,” CJ ordered. “Her get food first.”

  Digger stuffed an oyster into his mouth. “I’m hungry, kid. Hunting down motherfuckers take a lot out a man.”

  Christopher frowned at Digger as Megan returned carrying a pitcher of lemonade. She sat it near him. “Fresh lemonade and tequila,” she announced.

  Bunny held up a second pitcher. “Plain lemonade.”

  “You make some dope ass drinks, girl,” Digger complimented around a mouthful of food, holding up his glass. “I want a big glass, Meggie.”

  Rebel wrinkled her nose. “No talking with food in your mouth.”

  “Too late for the motherfucker to know that, Bug,” Christopher told his girl.

  She giggled at him, just as he always did when he called her that.

  “Bugs be squished,” CJ pointed out, then clapped his hands together. “I gonna squish you like a bug, El.”

  “And I’ma beat your lil’ fuckin’ ass, boy,” Christopher snapped, not smiling as Megan filled his glass with her spiked lemonade.

  Tears filled Rebel’s eyes. Megan rushed to their girl’s side. Most nights, Christopher appreciated the chaos at dinner. Him at the head. Megan to his right, with Ryder’s high chair angled between them. CJ sat next to his ma and Diesel two seats from Megan. When he ate with them, Digger sat to Christopher’s left in the seat Rule usually occupied. Tonight, Rule’s booster chair had been set up in the chair to Digger’s right, then Bunny, and then Rebel.

  Digger was the only motherfucker chomping while Megan stroked Rebel’s hair, still whispering to her. CJ gave Christopher an under-eyed look.

  “Come here, Rebel,” Christopher instructed.

  Rebel lifted her head from where she leaned on Megan’s tit. Climbing from the chair, his daughter ran to him, her little arms outstretched.

  Raising her up, he sat her on the end of the table, unsure what to do about her tears and red-splotchy face. On the rare occasions he watched her, he made funny faces and loud noises to entertain her. He never thought he’d have to do the shit around other grown motherfuckers. But he was Rebel’s old man in public and in private, whether he was happy, sad, frustrated, tired, or sick.

  He tuned everybody out. Drawing his brows together, he crossed his eyes. Immediately, she grinned through her sniffles, eating his attention up.

  “CJ ain’t mean to make you cry,” he said, hugging her close.

  Without her sidekick, Harley, Rebel seemed afraid of CJ.

  “CJ wants to squish me, Daddy. He’s mean.”

  “I not!” CJ yelled, the food in his mouth muffling his words. “You scary.”

  “After you eat, get ready for bed,” Christopher snapped, Rebel’s new tears hurting his head. “You ain’t playin’ on no iPad or comin’ with us to the den after dinner. You goin’ to your room.”

  “MegAnn,” CJ called around pitiful sniffles, tears sliding down his cheeks.

  “I’m not listening, potato. I’ve told you to be nice to your brothers and sister. You were very mean to Rebel.”

  “I sorry, Mommie,” CJ wailed.

  “I know, buddy. Apologize to Rebel and stop crying, okay?”

  “O…” His body shuddered with the force of his sniffs. “Kay.”

  Fuck, Christopher should’ve gone to the club and explained he’d gotten tied up. For a few minutes, they ate in relative silence, broken only by CJ’s hard sniffs. Reminding himself this was a normal fucking day at his house, Christopher sat his fork aside and made the sound of a motorcycle revving. Or what the fuck he hoped sounded like the motherfucker.

  Rebel squealed and CJ smiled, quieting for the first time in ten fucking minutes. Finally, fucking order was restored.

  Ryder swiped his plate, filled with fucked-up baby food, off the high chair tray, shrieking as motherfucking pureed shit flew every-fucking-where and his plate crashed to the floor.

  Gritting his teeth, Christopher finished his meal, then went the fuck upstairs, which was what he’d wanted to do all fucking evening.

  “Wake up.”

  Opening his eyes, Christopher found Megan looming over him, her bare tits in his face. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep but he felt much better, especially with his girl waking him up as she was.

  “Hey, baby,” he murmured, lifting his head and drawing a nipple into his mouth, the taste of her milk waking him up completely and making his cock rise.

  She groaned, grinding against him before pulling away and hopping off him.

  “Undress and meet me in the bathroom,” she instructed, disappearing before he questioned her.

  Doing as she requested, Christopher headed to the bathroom, where he found her in a tub filled with water and soapy bubbles. She liked baths, so he’d had a huge whirlpool tub installed, big enough for both of them and separate from the shower stall. The last time they’d bathed together had been on Valentine’s Day.

  She leaned against the rubber bath pillow, strands of hair escaping her messy bun and plastered to her neck. “Get in.”

  Climbing in and settling into the water, he started to turn, but she held him tight and guided his head bac
k against her shoulder. Her tits pressed into his back, resting her hands on his shoulders. Even in the water, the heat of her pussy, the feel of her pussy hairs, singed him.

  She nipped his earlobe. “You’re such a wonderful dad. Rebel loved your funny faces. I did, too.”

  Relaxing against her, he sighed, lulled by her voice, her touch. “I was aggravated to fuck, baby,” he admitted.

  “We all have those days,” she assured him, massaging his shoulders.

  “You don’t, Megan. You fuckin’ superhuman. The best Ma in the fuckin’ world. I don’t know where the fuck you get the energy from.”

  She kissed the top of his head. “I get tired and irritated and frustrated. On the days I feel overwhelmed, I think about you. Telling me I’m a good mom and wife. I believe you. You’re here, seeing me at my best and worst. Hearing you say that you think I’m good to you and our kids means so much to me. More than you’ll ever know. But, Christopher, you’re good, too. The best. We’d be lost without you. If you need time to yourself, here or at the club or wherever, I’ll understand. We all need time to just be. How many times do I have to tell you? I have your back.”

  Humbled by her, Christopher closed his eyes. Content just to be.

  Opening her eyes, Fee groaned, the glare of the sunlight hurting. She fluttered her lashes as awareness seeped into her and a sharp pain hit her throat. Her entire body ached, some places more than others.

  Images of Noah flashed into her mind. He’d tried to kill her, but she’d gotten away. Somehow. Wincing, she recalled the burn of a knife blade, the sting of cuts and stabs, the wetness seeping from her wounds.

  She’d survived, and it didn’t matter how, only that she had. For so many months, she’d wasted her life in an aimless fog. Not months. Years. Ever since her mother’s death. Patricia had been the foundation of Fee’s life and she’d floundered, meandering along and not knowing which way was up. She hadn’t known where she’d fit.

  Nia and Avery had had kids and careers. Bev had been the traveler. Zoann had been Christopher’s Bitsy. Even when Zoann hated him, deep down, her sister loved their big brother. She’d just been the baby of the family. The one who had dreams of being a filmmaker.