Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  Mortician pushed the door open a little wider, so she could scoot by him. The house was so quiet with Bailey and the kids gone, but they were in New Orleans at a wedding for one of their many relatives.

  Mortician led her to the kitchen. Roxy stopped, searching for Kendall but only seeing Johnnie and another man sitting at the table in the breakfast nook. The stranger wore a suit and tie. His golden blond hair rivalled Johnnie’s. The dude whispered something to Johnnie, allowing Roxy to steal an extra look at him.

  Fuck! He was good-looking with a straight nose, a fine mouth, and lips made for kissing. He reminded her of Brad Pitt, except this man had amber eyes. Those eyes were now looking her up and down, making her feel exposed, despite the modest pajamas she wore.

  “You can’t fucking count, Mortician,” she snapped, turning her back on Johnnie and the other man to glare at her son-in-law. “You mentioned Kendall. I see Johnnie and another motherfucker but no Kendall.”

  “This is Knox, Roxanne,” Johnnie told her, a biker today instead of a businessman. He wore his cut and jeans. His different personas confused Roxy at times. She could only imagine what it did to Kendall, who needed consistency. “He’s the legal assistant Christopher has allowed Brooks to hire. Brooks hasn’t arrived yet so I invited him to come here with me.”

  The straightness of her wig worried her. The one shallowness she’d always allowed herself was her hair. It had been her crowning glory. Now, it was gone. It was coming back, black, straight, and thinner than it had been, serving as a constant reminder that she’d had breast cancer. “I’m not dressed,” she complained, an easier explanation.

  “Why you fucking tripping?” Mortician asked. “It’s not like you buck ass naked.”

  No, it wasn’t, but she felt as if she was with Knox’s intense study of her. She’d gained weight and she didn’t have all her energy back. She hadn’t gotten back to feeling like her old self yet.

  “Sit down,” she ordered Mortician. “Let me get coffee started.”

  “Johnnie can talk while you do that,” Mortician said.

  “I need you to talk to Charlotte Redding,” Johnnie began as Roxy turned to the cabinet to get what she needed, happy to escape those amber eyes.

  It didn’t matter. She still felt watched. Her junk in the trunk had expanded so if Knox liked to look at asses, she had more than enough to turn him on.

  Shit! Slow down. The motherfucker wasn’t Mr. Pitt, about the only actor Roxy would fan girl over. That Knox looked like the man shouldn’t get her pussy in a tizzy. Besides, she was too fucking old to go all fucking googly-eyed over a handsome motherfucker, who had to be the same age as Bailey.

  “Roxanne!” Mortician called.

  “What, sugar?” she answered, distracted by Knox’s presence.

  “I need you to talk to Charlotte Redding or I’m killing her,” Johnnie said sharply.

  Without turning around, Roxy knew Knox was still watching her. She felt his gaze on her and it took everything in her to pay attention to Johnnie and stick to her task of preparing the coffee.

  “If I kill her,” Johnnie continued, “Kendall will be heartbroken. If she lives, she’ll lead Kendall to mischief again. She is scheming for Kendall to once again pursue her career as a junior attorney under Brooks.”

  Kendall needed Roxy. This wasn’t the time for her mind to wander off. “I don’t like Charlotte and that snobbish bitch don’t like me,” she said, pouring the water in and flipping the coffeepot on. “As long as Kendall don’t get hurt, I don’t give a fuck about Charlotte Redding. Use your head, boy. Where the fuck will Kendall work? Brooks doesn’t have a goddamn office. Or a regular practice, for that matter.”

  “Charlotte approached Knox to bring Kendall on to help out, without anyone’s knowledge,” Johnnie explained. “She must have all the logistics worked out.”

  “Yeah, smart motherfucker that Knox is, he went to Johnnie,” Mortician continued. “Who came to me. Now, we coming to you.”

  Because the club didn’t hurt women, if at all possible.

  Roxy faced them. “So you want me to…?”

  “Talk to the woman,” Johnnie said again. “Impress upon her the need to go to Kendall and tell her what a bad idea it is to still want her fucking job.” He thrust his hands through his hair. “Jesus, but she drives me fucking crazy.”

  “I don’t know if I can only talk to that bitch,” Roxy admitted. “She get out of line with me, I’m going to beat her ass.” Or try to. She hadn’t tested her strength yet, but felt it still wasn’t optimal. She was needed for so many different reasons and by so many different people. Damn it to hell! She didn’t have fucking time to drag her ass. “Charlotte needs an ass-beating anyway for all the bullshit she helped to cause recently.” A laundry-list too numerous to count, with the result the same—Kendall being hurt and then fucking over everyone else.

  “Brooks need his ass beat,” Mortician said darkly. “He the one that don’t have the balls to control his bitch.”

  Johnnie stiffened. “Are you trying to say something?”

  “If I fucking was, John Boy, I’d fucking say it,” Mortician retorted. “Your ass must be feeling the burn of Red, if my words making you bristle like that.”

  An angry flush darkened Johnnie’s face and he opened his mouth to speak.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Roxy ordered. “Both of you.” She threw Mort a warning stare, pretending Brad Pitt’s doppelganger had disappeared. “Stop throwing shade, with your grouchy ass.” Bailey would be gone for three more days and she swore Mortician would kill somebody by then. He missed his wife and kids a lot. “I’ll talk to Charlotte with Kendall.”

  “Fuck no,” Johnnie barked. “She’s pregnant, and I’ll not have her upset.”

  That meant the motherfucker had come here behind Kendall’s back. When would those two get their acts together and share shit?

  “Tough,” Roxy bit out, annoyed. “If you can’t get your wife in line, I can. I wasn’t asking your fucking permission to take her, I was telling you she’s coming.”

  “She’s his wife,” Knox cut in. Holy hell, but the motherfucker had a smooth voice.

  Her awareness of him irritated her. His unreadable scrutiny of her intimidated her, which pissed her off even more. Looks were not important. She was old enough to know that. Still, sometimes her femininity showed up and wanted her to be seen as attractive and sexual, especially to a man who resembled her biggest crush.

  “I think it’s rather rude of you to talk to him as you have,” he went on as if he had the right. Sexy tone or not, this wasn’t his business. “Furthermore, it’s presumptuous.”

  Oh, fuck him.

  Roxy narrowed her eyes, ignoring Mortician’s groan. “First off, motherfucker, I don’t give a good fuck what you think. If I did, I would’ve fucking asked. Since I didn’t, your opinion is neither appreciated or warranted, and it’s definitely not wanted. Secondly, you’re not coming in this motherfucker telling me how to take care of my babies, one of whom is Kendall.” She nodded to Johnnie. “This motherfucker refuses to stand up to her, so she gets into all kinds of shit.”

  “Excuse me?” Johnnie said, a chill entering his silver eyes.

  “Did I fucking stutter?” she asked, directing her annoyance to him.

  Johnnie lost some of his hostility. “What the fuck do you expect me to do? I’ve already threatened to walk away if she doesn’t behave.”

  “If you don’t know what the fuck to do with your own damn wife, I don’t have the fucking time to tell you,” Roxy said, still irritated at Knox’s words. At the entire morning. “My concern now is Kendall.”

  “Shouldn’t your concern be for you?” Knox’s unwelcomed voice filled the air with that question. “One of your babies, Kendall, is a grown woman. You should take care of your own problems instead of aggravating yourself with other people’s.”

  Roxy squinted at Knox, so outraged at his words that she feared if she said too much, fire would shoot out of her mouth.
“Boy, bye,” she spat, turned on her heels and fled the kitchen.

  Knox Harrington watched as Roxanne disappeared. To say he’d been shocked to see Mortician’s mother-in-law was an understatement. Her light brown eyes brimmed with life and her unlined, caramel-colored skin looked as soft as satin. She was an exquisite woman with long, curly hair that suited her perfectly. To have a daughter Bailey’s age, she had to be in her forties, although she could easily pass for a younger woman.

  In the two weeks he’d been “working” for Brooks he’d heard a lot about the infamous Roxanne. Her reputation preceded her. She was a force unto herself, with a gigantic presence in direct contrast to her small stature. Though she wore a pair of dowdy satin pajamas that boxed her figure, he saw her beautifully shaped breasts and nice ass, which had captured his attention in the first place. She was centerfold material. The rumors about her intrigued him. Now that he’d met her that intrigue became surprising curiosity.

  He’d seen her interest in him and that made her no different from every woman he’d ever met. He could have any woman he wanted because of his looks. Now, he’d left the supposedly formidable woman speechless, unable to think of a better reply than boy, bye.

  Was she the weakest link he needed to achieve his goal? He could charm even the most irascible female. Roxanne would be a piece of cake.

  “Don’t talk to Roxy like you did,” Mortician growled, bringing Knox back to the present and reminding him of the tiny microphone he had hidden underneath his clothes. Until today, when they’d spoken about Charlotte Redding, Knox had captured innocuous, boring conversation. “She in our business because that’s where we want her to be. She my wife mama and if Roxy upset, Bailey upset and that make me very fucking upset.”

  Getting up without a word, Johnnie went to the cabinet and pulled down a mug, pouring himself a cup of the coffee that Roxy had brewed. “When’s Bailey, Harley, and Lou getting home?” he asked, returning to the table.

  “Thanks, motherfucker.” Mortician shot to his feet and went to pour himself a coffee. He looked at Knox. “You want some?”

  “Sure,” Knox replied calmly, hoping Roxy reappeared, even if she wasn’t his type for anything serious. He preferred younger, quieter girls on his arm. He liked to have fun behind closed doors with the loudmouths and troublemakers. Roxy could be one of the women he amused himself with while he amassed the evidence to bring to his father’s brother.

  Uncle Avalon wanted airtight proof of the Death Dweller’s criminal activity to hand over to the Feds. He wanted every man affiliated with the club locked away for the rest of their lives. Any woman, too, so if the gorgeous Roxanne was involved in illegal activity, Knox would bring her down, too. He was doing this pro bono. The club had destroyed the lives of his uncle’s law partners. It didn’t matter that Avalon Harrington was a silent partner. Those men were his friends. Brooks Redding was making a pittance of what he once had and his spirit seemed broken and so unlike the man Uncle Avalon described. One of Brooks’ sons-in-law were missing, a fact Charlotte Redding attributed to the Death Dwellers. Another partner of Brooks and Avalon hung himself, unable to bear the financial ruin he faced after the fire and water damaged the offices.

  Luckily, Uncle Avalon had more mettle than either Brooks Redding, Joe Stone, Gregory White or Herbert Stanley. White and Stanley lagged in the background, but Redding and Stone were ruined. Knox believed his uncle hadn’t been as affected because he was a silent partner in the firm. Together, Knox and Uncle Avalon would avenge the partners and bring the club to its knees.

  “Coffee is good,” he said, hard-pressed to keep the smugness from his tone. These people were no match for him. Maybe, Johnnie might be. “Although I prefer tea.”

  Johnnie and Mortician frowned at him.

  Once Mortician brought him the coffee and sat down again, Johnnie spoke. “Kendall’s a grown woman. I’m her husband, not her keeper. What am I supposed to do with her bad behavior? Put her over my knee and spank her?”

  “Don’t agree with every fucking thing she do,” Mortician advised. “That would be a good goddamn start.”

  “Knock, knock.” Megan Caldwell walked into the kitchen holding the hand of Johnnie’s son. “Good morning.”

  “Hey, Meggie girl,” Mortician greeted, fist bumping Rory.

  Johnnie smiled at her. “What are you doing here, sweetheart?”

  “I wanted you, Dad,” Rory answered, grave eyes on Johnnie.

  “Um, yeah. I called Kendall and she told me where to find you,” Megan said, acknowledging Knox with a wave. “I took Rory with me to drop CJ off at school, but Rory wasn’t feeling well enough for me to take him to daycare.”

  Tuning her out, Knox considered Megan. She was the type of girl Knox went for. Her married status or pregnancy wouldn’t hinder him. He’d fucked several blissfully wedded women, then sent them back to their husbands while he went on with his life. The way women fell all over themselves to be with him proved his ex-wife had gotten her derision of him wrong.

  Meanwhile, Megan’s baby bump made her even sexier, which meant she could be amusement number two. He’d already found a way to ingratiate himself to Kendall Donovan. He needed to find the weakest link amongst them to get to their men.

  For him, though, Roxy was the logical choice now that he’d met her. She was older, so she’d probably welcome the attention. According to Charlotte, Kendall was next on the list because of her discord with the club president and her penchant for trouble. Megan could be used to stoke Kendall’s rage, while Knox coaxed the little blonde to bed to provoke her husband into a misstep.

  Johnnie sipped his coffee and stole a glance at Megan’s stomach before looking at her face. “You could’ve called me when you got back to the house and I would’ve come to get Rory, instead of having you come here.”

  “I don’t mind,” she said. “I need to talk to Roxy anyway. Is she awake?”

  “Yeah,” Mortician answered, then gave Megan a hang-dog expression. “She didn’t cook breakfast for me.”

  She smiled and rolled her eyes. “How about I whip up something for you right quick since I’m here?”

  “I’m hungry, too,” Knox piped in. “Us single guys have to fend for ourselves. It isn’t often we get a beautiful woman to cook.”

  Megan drew her brows together, but didn’t respond, heading to the refrigerator and pulling out eggs, bacon, and butter.

  Knox stood. “Do you need any help?”

  “Man, sit your ass down,” Mortician ordered, while Johnnie’s eyes frosted.

  “Sorry, Mortician,” Knox said without apology. “I’m a gentleman and, where I come from, gentlemen look after ladies.”

  Megan cleared her throat. “Save your flirting for someone who’s interested, Knox,” she said, not unkindly. “I’m not. And, no, I don’t need any help.”

  “Need help with fuckin’ what?” another voice said.

  Christopher “Outlaw” Caldwell strolled into the kitchen and up to his wife, whose entire face lit up when she saw him, the big fish in the sea. The one who’d given the order that ruined the lives of the partners and then destroyed the law firm. This investigation was Knox’s first real job since he’d opened his PI firm three months ago.

  The past eighteen months had been one of transition for him. Retiring from the police force. The ending of his marriage. Discussing a possible position in his father’s company.

  “I’m cooking breakfast for Mortician,” Megan explained.

  Outlaw grunted.

  “I offered to help her,” Knox told him, hoping to goad him when, so far, nothing else had worked.

  If Outlaw wasn’t an ignorant criminal, he’d think the man was on to him. Impossible. Knox had a law enforcement background. He was college-educated and from a wealthy, upstanding family. He had right on his side. He’d covered his tracks, crossed his ‘Ts’ and dotted his ‘Is’. “I’d help her any time and any place, in whatever way she needs.”

  Mortician snorted. Johnnie stoo
d up, but Outlaw just stared, his cold green gaze promising all sorts of death and pain. A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he remained silent.

  “Roxy here?” Outlaw asked, his tone unreadable, ignoring Knox.

  “Prez?” Mort asked in surprise.

  “Answer the fuckin’ question, Mort,” he snapped. “I fuckin’ need to talk to her.”

  “Did you hear what this motherfucker said about Megan?” Johnnie asked in outrage.

  “It’s fine,” Megan said serenely, cracking eggs into a bowl and not looking at any of them. “You’re fine, Christopher,” she added.

  Although the man didn’t look fine. He seemed angry enough to break Knox in two.

  “I’ll be back, baby,” Outlaw promised, kissing Megan’s lips. “Mort, stay with my girl.”

  Knox stared at the man’s retreating back in bemusement, deciding the battle of wills between him and Outlaw had officially begun. Hands down, he’d won this round and sent the legendary president running away, with his tail between his balls.

  Chapter Two

  Christopher stormed away from the kitchen, his fingers itching to blow that motherfucker away. Then, the problem he suspected had rose up would be taken care of, before it got out of hand.

  He didn’t want a war with the badges. Nor did he want to take out good cops. If what he believed was true, then Knox Harrington was only doing his fucking job. But Christopher had to do his, and badges weren’t good news. Good or bad, they saw him as a threat. A thug. A gang member. One wanted to take him down and the other wanted to be on the take from him.

  And, it was a few days until Halloween. Christopher was fucking determined to have this be a fuck-up free holiday. Also, there was a diamond bracelet he wanted to give to Megan for Christmas. As a legitimate purchase, the motherfucker cost two hundred eighty-five thousand dollars. On the black market, Christopher would save considerable bank. But this was for his girl and he wanted as little illegality touching her as possible. If, for some reason, the club was ever raided and their possessions confiscated due to unlawful gain, a bunch of shit would legally belong to Megan.