Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

He frowned. “Wait a fuckin’ minute. You want my fuckin’ ass to go to your man and interfere after he told your ass to sit the fuck down ‘bout something you probably ain’t needin’ to be doin’ in the first fuckin’ place?”

  “Spin it however you’d like, but, yes, that’s the gist of it.”

  He stared at her a moment, then guffawed like a madman. He had to fucking give it to Kendall. Bitch had balls. He was the last person who was interested in giving her her way. Yet, here the fuck she was, asking him to go over her husband’s head and do just that.

  “Asshole!” she snarled. “It’s not that funny.”

  “It sure the fuck is,” he said around chuckles, wiping his eyes. “I ain’t givin’ much of a fuck if you ain’t ever gettin’ your goddamn way, so get the fuck out. Whatever Johnnie told you to go fuck yourself ‘bout, Ima tell your ass the same thing.”

  “But it’s important,” she insisted, her anger deserting her and tears rushing to her eyes. She sniffled. “Please. I’m so bored.”

  That got his attention, and killed his humor. A bored Kendall was a dangerous one. “Shut the fuck up with your goddamn tears. They ain’t gonna work on me.”

  As fast as they started, her tears dried up.

  He reseated himself then nodded to the chair Kendall stood in front of. “Sit,” he ordered. Once she complied, he leaned back and caught her gaze. “Tell me what the fuck Johnnie told your ass you ain’t doin’.”

  She lowered her lashes. Licked her lips again. Classic Kendall moves. She was still a whore at heart. She couldn’t even respect her husband enough to stop offering Christopher pussy, either outright or on the sly, like she was now.

  “Do I have to tell you?”

  He didn’t speak. He simply gave her a look that she took as the silent demand he meant it to be.

  “I’ve been asked to represent a young man. Johnnie told me no, and said I’m the attorney for Meggie and Zoann’s healthcare business and have a small interest in it. But that isn’t enough. I want to use the degree I worked my ass off to earn. Since my husband ordered me to be happy with what I’m doing, I know it was because of your dictate that I not practice law. Johnnie wouldn’t even approach you. He just tried to act like you and tell me I can’t do it.”

  So many issues arose with her explanation, Christopher took a moment to process her words.

  “Please, let me take the case, Christopher.”

  “Short fuckin’ answer? Fuck no,” he growled. “Long answer? Motherfuckin’ no. Problem solved, so get the fuck outta my face.”

  “No! Not until you tell me why. This is a free country. I can do anything I damn well please. If I want to take that fucking case, bastard, I will.”

  The more she spoke, the more his temper rose, until his head started to pound, and his pulse raced. He tried to remember what Megan told him to do when he went into blind rages. Count fucking sheep, or some bullshit. Or stars. That worked for sleepless motherfuckers, not for assholes so furious at a red-headed bitch, he saw himself strangling the fuck out of her.

  Every time she made her demands as if she was owed something in her miserable life, he recalled all the times she’d gotten the club into problems. The last time had almost gotten him, her, and Val killed. The first time…

  It was because of the first time, when Megan had lost his second son, and he’d almost lost her, that Christopher detested Kendall. He could forgive almost anything. If it didn’t have to do with his girl.

  Not only had Kendall guilted Megan into going on a suicide mission, but, over the years, Kendall had fucked with Megan’s head. Made her feel less than worthy because she chose to be a housewife.

  “If all you can do is stand there and look stupid, then this meeting is over. I’m sure you remember all I know about your precious wife. You’ll stay out of my way or I’ll tell her she killed a man to save your wretched life. I’ll tell her Dinah betrayed the entire club.” Standing, she turned to leave.

  Christopher jetted from his chair so fast, it flipped onto its side. Kendall sprinted for the door, but he got to it first and blocked her departure, grabbing her throat. Her fingers went to his hands, but he turned her and shoved her against the door.

  “You wanna live, Kendall?” he snarled. “Cuz I can fuckin’ choke the fuck outta you right now, cut you into lil fuckin’ pieces, and tell John Boy you ran the fuck away. We been through this song and dance be-fuckin-fore.”

  He applied just enough pressure to let her know he meant business but not enough where he forgot this was Johnnie’s wife that the motherfucker truly loved. As much as he wanted to, he had no intentions of killing her. This time. He just wanted to frighten the fuck out of her to shut her the fuck up. Although she used her threats to get her way, one motherfucking day, she’d follow through and tell Megan things he didn’t want her to know. The fact that he knew she’d aborted Johnnie’s kid out of anger apparently wasn’t enough of a deterrent. She wanted her way. Period. Sooner or later, he had a decision to make. He’d have to make her disappear. How, was the question. Permanently? Or barring her from club grounds?

  “You got a fuckin’ death wish, Kendall?” he whispered against her ear, despising her to the depths of his soul. “I ain’t Johnnie. You live cuz of him. Any other motherfucker, man or woman, mess with my girl, and they fuckin’ die.” He shook her. “You want that?”

  “I might as well be dead if I can’t do what I want to do,” she spat, real tears sliding down her cheeks, her eyes wide. “All I am in this wretched place is an old lady. Rory, Matilda, and JJ’s mom, Johnnie’s wife. What about me? I have my own identity. It’s one lousy case. One. You’re not stopping me from doing it because of you. Or Johnnie. Or the club. It’s because of her. Meggie is happy being an airhead. I’m not. My sum total is worth more than being a cum receptacle and mousy housewife. If I can’t work this case, I’d rather be dead.”

  Fuck it. If that’s what she wanted, why disappoint her? He pulled his nine and shoved it between her eyes. “Tell me to fuckin’ shoot you,” he ordered. “Tell me and my ass’ll fuckin’ oblige.”

  Her entire body shivered. Christopher cocked the hammer, so close to pulling the trigger he could see the blood spraying from her head.

  “Please, don’t hurt me,” she sobbed, changing her fucking tune on a dime. “Johnnie and the kids need me. You know I’d never betray our agreement and tell Meggie anything. But I don’t know what to do. Why do you have to be so difficult? Why won’t you let me have my way? Anything Meggie wants, you give to her.”

  “I keep givin’ you motherfuckin’ warnins. Cuz of Johnnie. One fuckin’ day, my ass gonna get fed the fuck up and just shoot the fuck outta you.” He shoved her away and stepped back, returning his piece to the holster at his side. “You wasted my fuckin’ time with bullshit you fuckin’ knew I was gonna tell your ass fuck no for. Stop fuckin’ baitin’ me, Kendall. Ain’t gonna be a good fuckin’ outcome for you or Johnnie.”

  “But—”

  He held up a hand. “Mention one fuckin’ thing to Megan, Ima tell Johnnie ‘bout you abortin’ his kid, and let him kill your miserable ass. Take this fuckin’ case after Johnnie said don’t and I told you fuck no, and Ima kill him.”

  Her skin paled and she gasped. “You must not love him if you can so blithely tell me you’d kill him for my actions. He’s your brother, you barbaric motherfucker.”

  “He my brother who ain’t able to control his bitch. He need to fuckin’ die for that shit a-fuckin-lone. You don’t respect him or a goddamn thing he say. He better off dead than to let you always play his dumb ass.”

  “You can’t kill him for something I do.”

  “The fuck I can’t. Show me how fuckin’ much you love Johnnie. Show me you worth his fuckin’ blind devotion.”

  “You’re blindly devoted to Meggie.”

  “Sure the fuck is. And she devoted to me right back, so what the fuck your point?”

  She smirked. “Have you heard about the Valentine’s Day Ball Meggie’s de
cided to give at my encouragement? A formal ball,” she added gleefully. She walked to him and thrust her breasts against his chest. “Let’s see how dedicated you are to her when she tells you to wear another tuxedo.”

  The feel of her body against his repulsed him so much that he acted out of instinct, pushing her away with such force that she stumbled back and fell against the door.

  “Oops,” she said, widening her eyes and covering her mouth. “My tits somehow caressed your hard chest.”

  He glowered. She grinned.

  “Oops, again. Meggie wanted to talk to you on her own about the ball. I’m afraid I let the cat out of the bag.”

  Fuck! Megan had decided on the ball.

  “Which is okay when you think about it,” Kendall droned on.

  As quick as the words hit his eardrums, they bounced out of his brain and slid into forgotten barrenness.

  “I am the one who originally put the idea in her head,” she said. “But that’s all right. I’ll be the bigger person and let her take all the credit. A ball of all things. I didn’t know Meggie could spell ball and now she wants to host one.”

  He growled as those words penetrated his brain and started for her again, but she acted fast. Opening the door, she darted into the hallway, her witchy laughter floating behind her.

  Megan wanted the ball. A fucking ball where he had to wear a fucking monkey suit? No fucking way.

  He shouldn’t have agreed to watch that sappy fucking movie about a prince falling in love with a bitch nobody expected him to. Megan ate that shit up, while it annoyed the living fuck out of Christopher.

  Motherfucker in the movie had given a ball for the bitch he loved. Every motherfucker was in gowns and tuxedos—even the fucking staff wore formal shit.

  Fuck no. Christopher wasn’t doing it. Megan could host as many parties as she wanted, but she wouldn’t get him into another fucking tux. No. Fuck no.

  Motherfucking no.

  He didn’t care what she promised, he’d still tell her no. Besides, he had other things to worry about than just their church anniversary—like Kendall’s boredom and defiance.

  She got into shit just to entertain herself, not caring who the fuck was hurt in the process. Johnnie needed to keep her in hand.

  Or fucking else.

  Christopher returned to his desk and stared blankly at the numbers, his mind filled with family shit. Although he’d have to warn Johnnie to watch his woman, Christopher needed to buck up and prepare for Megan’s sweet little voice, talking about her ball. He’d have to stay strong and stick to his guns, so he wouldn’t end up in a fucking monkey suit.

  Unless…he resorted to low motherfucker tactics and made a preemptive move. He’d already suggested another trip to Europe. He’d even thrown in that they might run across Riley—not the most thrilling offer. No wonder she told his ass she’d think about it.

  A more enticing vacation to celebrate the five-year church wedding anniversary should do the trick.

  The reports had to wait. He had some planning to do, so he wouldn’t either find himself in a monkey suit or end up with a disappointed wife. Either might lead to a pussy lockout, and that he wouldn’t have.

  If Kendall wasn’t such a psycho cunt, he’d might’ve allowed her to take the case to thank her for the warning. Such a move would end up doing more harm than good.

  Therefore, as soon as he settled plans for Valentine’s Day with his Megan, he intended to find the motherfucker who put this idea into Kendall’s head and fuck them up.

  Shit had been going good. All of a sudden, Kendall was on the rampage again and Megan wanted him in a fucking tux.

  Fuck him.

  AT HIS WIT’S END, JOHNNIE opened the door to the mud room at Christopher and Megan’s house, needing to talk to her before Christopher got home.

  Double checking books for the end of the year reports took most of Christopher’s day. Johnnie had already done the hard stuff. Once Christopher reviewed everything, he’d hand the records over to Stretch, the club treasurer, who in turn, prepared reports for the club members.

  Johnnie had been in Long Beach at their pharmaceutical company since early this morning and wasn’t due back until much later tonight. But he hadn’t been able to focus, after more disagreements with Kendall over the past two days.

  Over the past three weeks, she’d been so sweet to him, explaining that he’d taken ill at a diner, where they’d met with the enforcer of the Imperials. Johnnie vaguely recalled the meeting, where he’d felt as if he’d die.

  Two days ago, Kendall started in on him again about taking the murder case Randolph wanted her to represent him on. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. This morning, everything had reached a head and he’d stormed out. Soon, he’d have to face her, when all he really wanted to do was shake the fuck out of her.

  She was on the fucking rampage again, attempting to finagle her way back into a job. All her selfishness would do was get him fucking killed.

  Usually, he understood her behavior. He empathized. Found excuses for her. Yet…he felt odd. Strange.

  Homicidal.

  Although they hadn’t talked, Kendall had brought him coffee yesterday morning. Given their screaming match from the night before, the gesture had surprised him. Not long after, he’d felt sick and dizzy, on edge.

  Today, after coffee, the feeling intensified. As if a switch had been set off inside him and any moment he’d blow up.

  All because of Kendall.

  Her and her fucked up coffee recipe was the reason he was feeling so sick and vicious. But he didn’t want to take out his bad mood on her, so he decided to seek advice. At first, he’d thought about going to Roxanne, then quickly changed his mind. While she loved Kendall as if she was another daughter, the woman made Johnnie uncomfortable.

  She was Mortician’s mother-in-law and had taken all the girls under her protective wing. She stood up to Christopher, Mort, Cash, her old man…whoever. He’d just prefer not to cross swords with her, especially over his wife. That left only one person, who had the unending patience to deal with Kendall, and try to understand her.

  Megan.

  Something clinked and Johnnie paused, listening as the woman in question moved around in the kitchen. She was right on the other side of the door. More than likely, cooking a meal for her husband and children. Always having Christopher’s comfort and happiness uppermost in her mind.

  Johnnie leaned his forehead against the door, hating whatever he felt—would always feel—for Megan. More than anything, he was so fucking angry with her for choosing Christopher over him. He was angry with himself. By doing the right thing and telling Christopher she was pregnant, Johnnie had lost her forever. To this day, he believed in his soul that if he’d pressed her—if Christopher had stayed away just a bit longer—she would be his.

  Guilt hit him. Hard. Sometimes, he felt like an obsessed, possessed dickhead. Because, despite his yearning for Megan, he loved Kendall. He loved her and desired her and admired her. But she frustrated the fuck out of him. The woman had a head as hard as stone. She behaved for a few months, then went right back to putting his life—and her own—in danger with her antics.

  Now, she wanted to take a fucking case and represent a motherfucker in court. And not any motherfucker. No. Kendall had to make an already fucked up situation ten times worse.

  She wanted to represent the enforcer of a club who’d been fucking with them, reminding him he’d been trying to broker peace, and had met with Randolph.

  Johnnie barely remembered the meeting, and couldn’t imagine going against Christopher, or the Dwellers, for some asshole he didn’t give a fuck about.

  Kendall wanted to get him fucking killed. If Christopher knew Johnnie had met with the man, whether he remembered or not, Johnnie was dead.

  A loud crash caught his attention and snapped him out of his thoughts. Drawing his weapon, he opened the door and rushed into the kitchen, ready to fire.

  Megan held a pot cover in her hand.
It took them both a moment for their brains to catch up to the goings-on. She screamed, then used her hands and arms to cover her naked body before turning, and giving Johnnie a glimpse of her pretty ass, tips of her golden hair flirting with the curve of her waist.

  “Get out!” she cried.

  He stared at her back. Her bare skin was reddening and his cock was rising.

  “Johnnie, get out of my house, moron. Or get out of the kitchen, so I can leave and put clothes on.”

  Clothes. Right. She needed to cover herself before he came in his fucking pants.

  “I need to talk to you about Kendall,” he said instead. “Where are your clothes?”

  She peaked over her shoulder and flinched. He still had his gun pointed at her head. Collecting himself, he laid the weapon on the counter and caught her gaze. Embarrassment and panic filled her eyes.

  His mind reflected back to the moment he’d seen her naked. “When did you shave your pussy?” he asked stupidly. When she’d gone into labor for Ryder, she’d had a golden bush.

  “GET OUT,” she shouted for the third time, wedged in the corner of her counter, so she could retain some modesty.

  “I need to talk to you,” he repeated. He squinted at her, light-headed. He could blame the feeling on seeing Megan without clothes. It was something else, though.

  He almost felt drugged.

  “Oh my God, you aren’t leaving, are you?”

  He should leave. Yet, he couldn’t move. A perverse part of him enjoyed watching her squirm in embarrassment. He licked his dry lips. His mouth felt like cotton.

  “If Christopher walks in, which he’s due any minute, he’s going to kill you, idiot. If you don’t have the decency to at least turn around, I’m going to punch you.”

  He smirked at her. “Yeah, well, you’d have to face me to do that, sweetheart.”

  She groaned, and his dick grew thicker. Sighing, he turned away from her, smiling at her squeak and the sound of her heels clicking against the floor as she ran away.

  Alone, he headed to the refrigerator for a cold beer. He needed ice to calm his dick. With his luck, though, she’d walk in and see him purposely giving himself blue balls.