Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Connect with Kathryn C. Kelly
Also by Kathryn C. Kelly
About Kathryn C. Kelly
PROLOGUE
“When you intend to make a honest woman out of my momma-in-law?”
For the past two months, Mortician had been posing that question to Knox Harrington on an increasingly regular basis. He felt the pressure. Truth be told, he wanted to marry Roxanne Doucette, Mortician’s “momma-in-law”, and something of a mother figure to not only the women of the Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club, but the men, too.
Knox shrugged, his usual answer. The other men at the table sent him various looks of disapproval and displeasure. The club president, Outlaw, lifted a brow at him, the silent question screaming DANGER to Knox.
Outlaw discarded three cards, then replaced them in his hand with three from the deck. They were at their weekly get-together, this time held at Mortician and his wife, Bailey’s, house. Roxanne lived in the mother-in-law quarters, where Knox also lived now. The place was small, nothing he was used to; however, it made Roxanne happy so he was more than willing to ignore the lack of space.
A burst of female laughter emanated from the den, two doors down the hall from where the men sat in the game room. Knox picked out Roxanne’s robust laughter and couldn’t help but smile. She was such a beautiful, intelligent, vivacious woman. She brought meaning and sunshine to his life. He should want to jump at the chance to marry her.
So what was stopping him?
He glanced around the table, focusing first on Mortician, the club enforcer, who loved his dreads, the club, and family, and not necessarily in that order. If something made Bailey unhappy, Mortician went out of his way to change that. And, if Roxanne was unhappy, then most assuredly Bailey would be. The girl simply adored her mother.
Knox looked at Johnnie, club VP. He was educated and easy-going, so above the rest of the club—on Knox’s level actually—that Knox wondered why Johnnie didn’t turn in his patch. Recently, he’d separated from his wife. Which pleased Knox to no end. He hated Kendall, and was glad he didn’t have to suffer her presence at the family dinners anymore.
Next, he spied on Val, the club’s Road Captain. He was an idiot. Period.
Knox turned his attention to Digger, sergeant-at-arms and Mortician’s blood brother. Another idiot, who, so far, hadn’t packed on the pounds with all the eating he’d become known for.
Knox moved on to Cash and Stretch, the explosive’s technician and secretary/treasurer respectively, as well as husbands to each other, and boyfriends to Outlaw’s sister, Ophelia. And her baby daddies to her two kids. Cash might’ve been on-level with Knox and Johnnie, except he’d tied himself to Ophelia and Stretch, Pushover One and Pushover Two.
And, finally, there was Outlaw. King of Criminals, Jerks, and Assholes…
There was his answer, Knox realized. He hadn’t proposed to Roxanne because of them.
“A perfect time to propose might be at Meggie Valentine Ball,” Val offered into the silence, not dropping the subject as they usually did once Knox gave his shrug-answer.
Mortician studied the cards in his hand. “What you think about that, Knox?”
Placing his cards in front of him, Knox squeezed the bridge of his nose. He had to say something to get them off this track. “We’re living together,” he blurted. “We don’t need to marry.”
“What? You planning on ducking out on my momma-in-law or some shit?”
Frustrated, Knox growled. “Of course not! But why get legalities involved if she’s perfectly happy with our arrangement?”
Mortician opened his mouth to put up another argument.
Irritation surged into Knox. “If she was so concerned about marriage, she wouldn’t have invited me to live with her beforehand,” he snapped. “Why pay for something when I’m getting it for free?”
Dark ire lit Mortician’s eyes. Throwing his cards aside, he got to his feet, his hand going to his cut where he kept his gun.
“You can’t bully me into marrying her,” Knox pointed out.
“I can do whatever the fuck I want to, son,” Mortician sneered.
Deciding this moment wasn’t the time to back down, Knox stood, too. “You want me to propose? Fine. I’ll ask her to marry me, then have the longest engagement in history. That’s if she even accepts.”
“She going to accept,” Mortician stated. “She love you.”
The words did something to Knox’s heart. Made it swell. Beat faster. Melt. And whatever other flowery idiom he could think of. He cleared his throat. “And I love her.”
“She been through enough,” Digger inserted. “Cancer, kidnapping, fucking with your uppity ass.”
Knox glared at Digger, although he continued, unperturbed.
“She deserve to know you belong to her and she belong to you.”
Outlaw released smoke from the cigarette he’d just lit. “That’s what the fuck the motherfucker sayin’, Digger. They be-fuckin-long to each other but it just easier if they ever wanna split the fuck up.”
“And you okay with that, Prez?” Mortician asked, outraged.
“Ain’t sayin’ that shit, Mort,” Outlaw corrected. He studied Knox. “Listen the fuck up, assfuck. You either gonna marry Roxanne, and soon, or you gonna lose your fuckin’ cock.”
“Is that so?” Knox sneered, losing his patience and his temper. “Why should I go through with a fucking wedding to her, even if I propose? She’s driving a purple vehicle that screams ignorance. Not to mention it being a gift from another man. Outlaw!” Before any of them commented on that, Knox changed the subject and continued, lost in his self-righteous anger. “My parents might accept her as my live-in lady but as a wife? I don’t think so. And she insists on showing all of you allegiance. She’s definitely not wife material for me! But if it makes you happy, I’ll ask her to marry me, fuck her a month or two as my betrothed, then walk out. And I’ll do you all a favor. I’ll never tell her you fucking forced me into a corner and ruined our relationship…”
Even before Mortician pressed his .380 in the center of Knox’s forehead, his mouth caught up to his brain and his stomach turned. He hadn’t meant most of what he said. But these men frustrated him so much with their bullying tactics. Worse, there was no indication from Roxanne herself that she hoped to marry him.
“Mort, if you pull the fucking trigger, Roxanne might have a problem with you.” Johnnie spoke as if he talked of which type of Scotch he preferred.
Hearing patience the situation didn’t call for, Knox feared Mortician would shoot. A frisson of sympathy for the men Mortician visited as the club�
�s enforcer went through Knox.
“You marrying her or you leaving her, dead or alive,” Mortician snarled, twisting the barrel into Knox’s skin before yanking the gun away and shoving it back into his cut. “You got until Valentine Day to decide.”
Straightening his jacket lapels and brushing off the sleeves, Knox reseated himself. It would be a cold day in hell before any of these ignoramuses outsmarted him. He’d propose to Roxanne, but if they ever ended up at the altar it would be on his terms and no one else’s.
Period.
Slipping into bed, later that night, Roxy slid closer to Knox, who welcomed her with open arms. The red mark on his forehead grabbed her attention again and she caressed it.
“What happened, sugar?”
Knox readjusted and settled her in the crook of his arms. “Nothing much,” he answered, noncommittal. “Just goofing off with the guys.”
For a time, all the boys had accepted Knox into their fold, allowing her to breathe a sigh of relief. Her concern for her man’s safety had lessened. Knox had had a rough adjustment. Most of the men of the motorcycle club and Knox came from two different worlds, but they’d adapted and accepted each other for her. That bliss lasted a few months before some hostility on both sides returned.
Knox kissed the top of her head. “What are your thoughts on marriage, Roxanne?”
Roxy stilled. She’d say she was a progressive, twenty-first century woman, who didn’t need marriage to have a committed relationship. Yet, she was a romantic, if nothing else, and she loved Knox so much.
“What do you mean?” she asked, wanting clarity before she answered. She didn’t want to jump to conclusions about where this might lead. “My general thoughts on marriage or specifics, particularly between us?”
He chuckled, and she joined him in laughter.
“Subtle, right?” she said.
He scooted down and turned on his side, meeting her eyes. “Very.”
“Knox, baby, what do you want me to say?” She traced the outline of his lips. He was so handsome and upstanding. “I mean I get why somebody like you wouldn’t want to marry an ignorant—” She paused and her voice trailed off, before she swallowed and continued. “Ghetto slut like me.”
Those words, in her son’s voice, spoken a couple of months ago, still echoed in her head. She hadn’t even called Duke. She’d just happened to walk in when Bailey was talking to him and their sisters. Her girls all greeted Roxy with enthusiasm. Duke had been pure venom.
“Say that again,” Knox said. “I don’t think I heard you right.”
Tears rushing to her eyes, Roxy’s nostrils flared. She sighed. “You heard me just fine. Ignore—”
Knox narrowed his eyes. “You’re about to cry!” he accused. “What’s…fuck! It’s Duke, isn’t it? He’s the only person in the world who brings you to tears.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded. “He’s my child.”
“He’s a disrespectful little asshole,” Knox snarled. “I should fly to New Orleans and teach him a lesson.”
She gave him a watery smile and caressed his stubbly jaw. “You don’t even know the context in which he said it.”
“It doesn’t fucking matter, Roxanne,” Knox fumed. “You’re his mother and you’re owed his every respect.”
“Bailey was talking on speakerphone to Carissa and Alexia. You know she’s about to marry her girlfriend? They were discussing details. I walked in, heard that part of the conversation, and added my two cents. I didn’t know Duke was even on the phone. He really went for the jugular and said I’d only be relegated to looking in from the outside for long-term commitment since a man like Knox Harrington would never marry an ignorant, ghetto slut like me.” She tried to laugh it off, but the attempt sounded as hollow as it felt. “Mortician threatened to go to New Orleans and box Duke up. It took me and Bailey to talk him down. No matter what Duke does, I’ll never sanction his murder. It was such a mess, Knox. After we talked him down from Duke, the boy wanted to confront you about putting a ring on my finger. Part of it was I was so upset that it affected Bailey. To keep shit from blowing up too much more, I just lied and said you and me were talking about marriage. I was just waiting for you to propose.”
“Now, I understand,” Knox mumbled, more to himself than to her, but Roxy heard anyway.
“Understand what?”
“What are you talking about?”
“What you just said. What do you understand now?”
“It isn’t important,” he brushed off. “What is is how you feel about marriage. Is that what you want? For us to marry eventually?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted with soft honesty. “I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you, but suppose you want more children?”
“I have all the children I want, sweetheart,” Knox said gruffly. “My son and your three daughters.”
Though his words made her swoon, she couldn’t allow a certain slight to pass. “What about Duke?”
“I make no claim to him unless I’m free to kick his ass.”
“Knox,” she chided.
“And,” he went on as if she hadn’t spoken, “I would be the luckiest man alive if I ever proposed and you agreed to marry me.”
She smiled at him. “Then we’d both be pretty fucking lucky because you’re the kindest, smartest, handsomest man I know.”
He brushed her lips with his own. “Mmmm. Compliments like that might just get you ravished.”
“I’m yours for the ravishing.” She chuckled and turned on her back, desire racing through her at his sheer sexiness. He was one fine motherfucker.
Knox rolled over onto her and slid his fingers through her hair, staring deeply into her eyes, his amber ones mesmerizing her. Slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her with slow, exquisite tenderness.
Opening her mouth to him, Roxy wrapped her arms around Knox’s neck, relishing his scent and his weight. He wasn’t rushing inside of her, despite how his heavy erection throbbed against her belly.
Still kissing her, Knox readjusted and began to slide her nightgown up, running his fingers along her thighs, her hips, and her stomach. His touch ignited fire within her and sent goosebumps rushing along her skin. Her nipples hardened and her pussy heated.
With her nightgown above her waist, Roxy spread her thighs. Knox brought his hand to her clit and massaged it.
“Knox,” Roxy groaned, lifting her hips.
“I’m here, sweetheart,” he whispered, putting more pressure on her sensitive clit.
She arched her back. “Keep doing that, baby,” she breathed. “That feels wonderful.”
“This will feel even better,” he responded, closing his lips around her covered nipple.
The thin material of her nightgown allowed Roxy to feel every sensation. She gripped his shoulders, moved to the rhythm of his fingers, and gasped at each little sensation she felt.
She moved her hips faster. He sped up his fingers, necessary to end her agony.
“Oh God!” she cried, shaking in her ecstasy.
For the briefest moment, Knox pulled away. Through her haze, she heard his nightstand drawer open and close. A moment later, she felt the coolness of the lubricant as he spread it in and around her pussy.
When he entered her, they moaned together.
Duke’s hateful words flashed through Roxy’s head, but she shoved them aside. Knox loved her and, when they mutually decided the time was right, she was sure they’d walk down the aisle.
CHAPTER ONE
“Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone.”
A few days later, the sound of Knox’s voice caught Roxy off-guard. They’d just witnessed vow renewals between Outlaw and Meggie. Once Outlaw grabbed Meggie’s hand and walked from where they’d stood at the DJ’s booth, Roxy had turned away to find food. Now, Knox had recaptured everyone’s attention with his greeting.
“Roxanne, if I can have a moment of your time?” he asked politely, lasering her with a smolderin
g gaze.
Swallowing, Roxy grinned as everybody’s focus turned her way. She didn’t want to get all googly-eyed and jump to conclusions…but, fuck it, she was getting all fucking googly-eyed and jumping to conclusions that Knox was about to propose to her.
Her heart hammering, she sashayed her way to where her man stood, so extraordinarily handsome, tall, and fine looking in his tuxedo. The moment she reached him, he bent and brushed his lips over hers.
“From the moment we met, you’ve captivated me,” he said gruffly into the microphone.
She opened her mouth to respond, but he placed a finger over her lips.
“You bring excitement and passion to my life. You mean the world to me. I love you with all my heart and soul.” He dropped down on one knee.
Roxy’s hands flew to her mouth, and she felt light-headed. She’d been married three fucking times and not one of her previous husbands ever got down on one knee. To her, that was a romantic dream that happened to other women.
Knox dug into his jacket pocket and produced a princess cut diamond engagement ring.
Tears rushed to Roxy’s eyes. Her hands dropped from her mouth; one fluttered to her chest.
“Will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”
She released a sob-laugh and nodded. “Yes,” she said in a low, watery voice.
“She said yes, everyone,” Knox spoke into the microphone.
Amidst cheers and whoops, he laid the microphone on the floor, took Roxy’s hand into his own and held the ring up.
“This was my father’s great-grandmother’s ring,” he told her. “I picked it up just yesterday after having it adjusted for you. My great-great-grandparents had a happy, long-lasting marriage, so wearing this ring will bring us nothing but happiness.”
He raised the ring for onlookers to view. The light hitting the diamond made it gleam and revealed the culet underneath.
A premonition of doom hit Roxy, speeding her heartbeat up. His words were based in lore and myth, she knew, but she had a few of her own that seemed to prick her with unease.
He’d picked up her ring on a Friday. Strike one against their future union. Fuck Friday the 13th. For whatever reason—probably a fucked up one where a bride and her wedding party had been slaughtered—purchasing a ring on a Friday was bad luck.
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