Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  Something flickered in Outlaw’s features—hurt? shame?—before he stiffened. Rage darkened his eyes and he stormed forward, yanking Knox up by the collar and punching him in the mouth. That should’ve been the end of it, but Outlaw smashed his fist in Knox’s face—once, twice, and again—before releasing him and pummeling his gut a few times, until Knox slipped to the ground, coughing and sputtering.

  “You say what the fuck you wanna about my fuckin’ ass, talk about CJ or my Megan, and you die. The only fuckin’ reason Ima give you another chance is cuz of Roxanne. Hear me, motherfucker?”

  “Y-yes,” Knox answered, his physical pain matching the emotional turmoil he’d been in for the last few hours.

  “Now, get the fuck up and listen to what the fuck I gotta say.”

  A tear slid down Knox’s cheek. Instead of complying, he coughed again and curled into a ball. Until Outlaw stopped next to him, his steel toed boots too close to Knox’s head for comfort. With determination, he grabbed the arm of the chair. He slid it against the wall to better brace it, then dragged himself up and plopped down on the brown leather seat. He laid his head on his desk and shuddered, blood dripping from his mouth and nose. His eyes and skull hurt. Maybe, they were broken. Maybe, Outlaw had blinded him.

  Maybe, Knox would die. He couldn’t imagine surviving with this much pain.

  “Roxanne love you,” Outlaw started.

  Knox refused to dignify that with a response. Her actions suggested otherwise.

  “I know you fuckin’ love her.”

  Still, he wouldn’t answer. Once Outlaw left, he might call his friends on the force anyway, and have him arrested for assault and battery.

  “This what you need to do, motherfucker.”

  Knox wouldn’t take advice from a violent criminal like Outlaw. Instead, he diverted his attention. “Did you hear what Kendall said about me? Don’t you think that’s how she feels?”

  Outlaw’s smile was thin. “Right go where right belong. The shit she said apply to her fucking ass, too. But she wasn’t wrong ‘bout you.”

  He wouldn’t allow Outlaw to turn this back to him, so Knox could slip up again and get another ass beating. Besides, he was curious about something. “Since you rewarded her with so much, a few weeks ago, why didn’t you get her a car, too?”

  “Re-fuckin-ward that bitch? What the fuck you mean?”

  “A house. An office. Her law practice. An allowance. Visitation. Entry to the club.”

  Instead of shame, Outlaw shrugged. “In case you ain’t figure shit out, I got a fuckin’ reason for every-fuckin-thing I do.”

  Knox processed that, then decided to point something out. “You know what I think your main problem is with your speech? You’re lazy. You know how to talk to sound like you have a brain. It’s just easier not to.”

  “Just cuz I said you can talk ‘bout my ass, don’t mean you gotta be fuckin’ stupid e-fuckin-nuff to keep doin’ it.”

  “Your speech annoys me.”

  “Tell me the last time my ass gave a fuck ‘bout what up-fuckin-set you?”

  “I’m dropping the subject,” Knox grouched. “Tell me the method to the madness that led you to become Kendall’s Santa Claus.”

  “Kendall Santa Claus?” Outlaw scoffed. “Ima let that big ass insult slide, motherfucker, and Ima tell you as soon as I finish up ‘bout Roxy.”

  “Stay out of my relationship with her.”

  Outlaw smirked. “To my ass, it seem like some-fuckin-body need to inter-fuckin-fere cuz you don’t know what the fuck you doin’.”

  “I take umbrage to that.”

  “Don’t give a good fuck.”

  Life presented some inalienable truths. The right to free speech. The right to be your own person. And the fact that Outlaw always seemed to be right. Such was the case this time. Knox could say he was so angry and embarrassed he’d never forgive Roxanne. He could tell himself he didn’t need any man’s advice and, if he did, it would be that of Cameron, his best friend.

  All lies. Outlaw studied people. He was a connoisseur in that respect. With those he considered family, he made knowing them—their whereabouts, weaknesses, and wants—his priority.

  Knox nodded. “What do you suggest?”

  “Move outta her house. Megan and Bailey gettin’ a room ready for your ass at the club.”

  “I’m not living at that club when I can go to my parents’ house.”

  “Ain’t no skin off my fuckin’ ass. You do that shit, it’ll just lead Roxanne to think that you ain’t compatible to her. Be-fuckin-sides, seein’ you gonna make her miss you since she love your preppy ass.”

  Outlaw had a point. Knox sighed. “Fine. I’ll move my things to the club.”

  “No, leave your things right the fuck where they at. In her house. Get some shit, a few pieces, and leave the rest there. Just reassure her you love the fuck outta her. Then, your things gonna be there with her and she gonna miss you more. Then, Mort will back off cuz Bailey gonna see how miserable her Ma is. She gonna talk to Roxanne and Mort, then you can move the fuck back in with Roxanne and it ain’t gonna be no problem for no-fuckin-body.”

  “Fine. Done. Anything else?”

  “Romance her, fuckhead. Girls like that, too. Oh, and tell her Bailey and Mort welcome to have their wedding with yours.”

  “Even if I don’t want it?” Knox pressed. “This should be about Roxanne. No one else. I’m not paying a huge amount of money for Roxanne to share her day.”

  “Listen up, assfuck, ain’t no-fuckin-body asked your ass to pay for Roxanne wedding. She belong to us, so we gonna pay.”

  Knox opened his mouth to disagree, but Outlaw raised his hand and changed the subject.

  “Now, ‘bout Kendall.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Megan!”

  For the longest time, Christopher had searched the house and grounds of the property Kendall sent him to—the one where Megan might be kept. He’d searched almost everywhere. Val, Mortician, Johnnie, and Digger had searched almost everywhere, too.

  Now, they’d reached the edge of the property line. Though the house was dilapidated and the wooden porch was rotted, the land was huge. Acres of outbuildings, rusting cars, old motorcycles, and overgrown weeds. But this…this was something new. A door that opened onto an underground structure.

  “Megan,” Christopher yelled again, close to losing his mind. She’d been taken days ago. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t eat.

  He couldn’t function.

  When he opened the door, the sunlight beamed into the darkness below, revealing stone steps. Without hesitation, Christopher rushed into the abyss. He couldn’t see into the corners. He only saw ahead of him, the long shadows cast by the sunlight gleaming from above.

  Grabbing his cellphone, he turned on the flashlight. He aimed it to the right of him, but found nothing. Then, he turned left.

  There she was. Still. Lifeless. Curled up, in rivers of blood…

  Christopher bolted upright and his eyes flew open. Air escaped him in bursts of breaths and his heart pounded hard enough to serve as a drum in a rock band. Sweat poured down his face, dripped down the center of his chest.

  Megan was there, safe, in their bed, next to him. Sleeping peacefully. Looking like an angel bathed in the soft lamplight that she insisted on having at night.

  Not wanting to disturb her, he shoved the covers aside and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He hung his head and covered his face, resting his elbows on his knees.

  He hated that motherfucking dream. Each time he had it, he found Megan the same way. Dead.

  Now, tonight, blood. A shiver passed through him.

  He couldn’t go through this for the rest of his fucking life. He’d been fine. Marching the fuck on. Helping Megan to cope with her nightmares. Making sure she wouldn’t return to cutting herself.

  Then…then…Megan decided to go grocery shopping alone. She’d told him she wouldn’t let fear rule her life and she was determined to not al
low her kidnapping to frighten her from the things she enjoyed doing alone.

  Fine. What the fuck ever. He’d had her tailed, with express instructions to not let Megan know.

  Did the motherfuckers obey him?

  FUCK NO!

  That led to ass beatings for them and a two-day pussy lockout for him. Megan said he was taking away her way of dealing with the trauma she’d suffered during her kidnapping.

  Fuck. Fine. Lesson fucking learned.

  Once he was admitted back into the Promised Land, he decided to watch over her himself. That, however, fucked with church. He hadn’t realized how much his girl rolled out until he’d had to cancel the weekly club meetings, including the most important end of month one where all the reports were read and discussed. He could always push church back to the evenings, but that would inter-fucking-fere with his family time.

  Still, his woman left him no choice but to give in to her wishes. Megan had grown so much during their marriage and she attributed that to the room he gave her to spread her wings. She admired and respected him for that, so he decided to back off. Maybe, life could return to normal for them.

  So far, it hadn’t for her. And for him? The goddamn nightmares commenced. They were relentless, pussifying him more than Megan already had. Now, he had some old dogs on her detail, whether she liked it or not. They’d sooner cut off their fucking cocks, then let anything happen to her.

  She moved, and he peeped over his shoulder in time to see her sit up and turn on the lamp on her side of the bed. The motherfucker she kept on at night was across the fucking room. It would’ve been harder than a motherfucker for him to sleep with a light shining in his fucking face from either side of the bed. But did it really fucking matter? As long as she was happy.

  He rested his elbows on his knees again and scrubbed a hand over his face.

  “Another nightmare?” she asked.

  “Yeah, baby. This time, you was in a pool of blood. Still deader than fuck. Just surrounded by rivers of red.”

  More movement behind him. Moments later, she skimmed her fingers over his bare back. Chills rose up on his skin, her touch the balm he needed to soothe all his hurts.

  “Roxy thinks what I’m doing is a good idea,” she told him.

  Christopher grunted. His visit to Knox in the early morning hours after the Big Argument had happened almost twenty-four hours ago. As far as he knew, Roxanne and Knox hadn’t made up.

  “What kind of message would I send to CJ if I cowered inside or if every time I left the grounds, I needed to be surrounded by security.”

  “The motherfuckin’ message you wanna stay a-fuckin-live,” Christopher snapped, tired and cranky. Mortician had been in a fucked-up mood because Bailey had been crying most of the day. Val was upset because Zoann was angry over his interference. Roxanne looked as if she’d been weeping with her eyes all red and shit. Johnnie went from joking to annoyed to boo-hooey. And Christopher was determined to get fucking rid of Kendall once and for fucking all. He needed cooperation some-fucking-where in his life. Why not his wife? What the fuck was wrong with his girl? “It would fuckin’ show you thinkin’ about your fuckin’ safety, Megan.”

  “No, it would show I’m allowing maniacs to dictate how I live. How to be your wife. The kids’ mom. Imagine the worry you’d feel if I didn’t want to go anywhere because of fear?”

  Truth. How-fucking-ever, his worry didn’t lessen with things as they were. Maybe, he would be more concerned if she cowered at the thought of going places. Right now, though, he preferred if she stayed home. How could he get her to cooperate?

  He wanted her alive. Safe. Unharmed. No matter the cost.

  He released a frustrated growl. “Fuck, Megan, you fuckin’ listened to my ass and stayed the fuck home when you was filled with my kids.” He shoved aside the thought taunting him.

  The one that kept showing itself and then running away like a scared motherfucker.

  Dick snip.

  Dick snip flip.

  Dick pain.

  Balls swollen.

  No fucking. For days.

  Megan kissed his jaw, rubbing her soft cheek against the bristles on his face. Her sweet scent invaded his nostrils and his cock jumped. She rose up behind him and put her arms around his neck, resting her chin on his shoulder. Her golden hair tickled the places on his body that it touched.

  She was warm. Vital. Alive.

  And, fuck, he wanted to keep it that fucking way.

  “Christopher,” she whispered, her breath fanning his ear. “I was pregnant. I know how much you worry about me because of my risks. I also didn’t want to do anything to put our babies at risk. Besides, if I’m pregnant and get into some type of trouble with club enemies, I can’t do much to try and defend myself.”

  What the fuck was she talking about? “Your lil’ fuckin’ ass wasn’t pregnant this time and you was taken,” he grouched.

  “CJ was with me,” she reminded him, her gentleness soothing his turmoil.

  “Why the fuck you gotta be such a stubborn lil motherfucker, huh, Megan?”

  Instead of answering, she leaned forward and kissed his jaw again.

  “I’m sooo sorry, Christopher,” she crooned, not sorry at all. She tickled the hair at his nape with a soft caress. “Maybe, I can find a way to make it up to you?”

  Her words stiffened his cock. She slid around him, trailing the silk of her hair behind her. Pausing, she kissed his stomach, then continued onto her knees. Her beautiful blue eyes met his and she grabbed his throbbing dick.

  “I love you, Christopher,” she murmured, wrapping her lips around his cock and holding his gaze.

  He grabbed handfuls of her hair. “I love you, too, baby.”

  His cock filled her mouth so she didn’t respond. She always sucked him off after his nightmares. If there was any benefit from the bad dreams, Megan blowing him was it. To-fucking-night, though, she was also trying to distract him from his need to have her escorted wherever she went.

  Little bitch.

  She’d won this fucking battle. But he’d win the goddamn war and he’d do it however the fuck he had to.

  In the meantime, he laid back on the bed and lost himself in the warmth of Megan’s mouth sucking him off.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Spine straight, Knox walked into the clubhouse, later that evening, meeting every gaze that landed on him. Which was virtually everyone in the crowded place. And almost all of them had witnessed the big blowup between him and Roxanne.

  Not to mention his face looked like a bruised and bloated cow stomach with the reminders of the beating Outlaw gave him yesterday.

  “Nobody want you here, Knox,” a voice sneered.

  Himself included.

  If he didn’t love Roxanne so much—if he wasn’t looking forward to making her his wife—he would’ve left. He was a Harrington; he didn’t have to suffer such indignities.

  Except he did. Because he adored Roxanne and would be lost without her. He had every confidence that she wouldn’t allow Mortician’s shenanigans to last too long. Just enough to appease his oversized ego.

  Knox didn’t know most of these people. Didn’t care to know anyone here. But they were all dangerous, so he must not underestimate them. They’d jump on any weakness.

  “Talk to Outlaw,” Knox responded with cool authority. “He said I’m welcomed here. Megan has prepared a room for me.”

  “I’m saying you’re welcomed here, too,” Johnnie called from somewhere behind him.

  Despite how annoyed he was with Johnnie, Knox almost sagged in relief at hearing a friendly voice. Looks filled with resentment followed him as he made his way to the table he always sat at with Roxanne.

  He stopped himself from taking a seat, as he usually would. Was he even allowed? She hadn’t called him since he’d last seen her, which Knox resented. She owed him an apology. Didn’t she?

  “Sit,” Johnnie encouraged, setting an expensive bottle of scotch, along with two plastic cups, on th
e table.

  Plastic cups for an expensive scotch. The travesty.

  Scowling, Knox sat and watched as Johnnie poured each of them scotch in a plastic cup. Here he thought Johnnie had class. This was the first time Knox observed how uncouth Johnnie could be. Was it due to Kendall’s absence?

  “Who got to you?” Johnnie asked, taking his own seat.

  Knox sipped his alcohol. “Outlaw.”

  “He has a special spot for Roxanne. He’ll never admit it but he sees her as a mother figure. Not only to the guys, but to him, too.”

  Knox grunted. “Wasn’t over Roxanne. It was because of CJ.”

  “Cardinal rule, Knox. Don’t talk about CJ and don’t talk about Megan.”

  The words almost mirrored Outlaw’s. That didn’t stop Knox’s scowl. “Might I remind you Kendall almost punched CJ. What did Outlaw do? Gave her a house and license to practice law. Bygones were bygones.”

  On the surface, anyway. If Knox’s most recent meeting with Outlaw had shown him anything, it was that Outlaw didn’t forget and he didn’t forgive.

  “It seems bygones are bygones, Knox. But he let Kendall off too easily.” Johnnie emptied his cup and poured another drink for himself. “If Kendall would just fucking behave…It might be too late, though. I think her days are numbered.” A bleak sigh escaped him. “What do I do? She almost got me killed. Almost got Megan killed. I’m so fucking tired of her bullshit.”

  “You’re leaving her to her fate?” Knox asked in surprise.

  “Of course not, fuckhead. Did you hear anything I just said? I’m keeping my eyes and ears open. Listen for any special assignments one of the probates might have that the rest of us don’t know about.”

  Meaning he was listening for an order that Outlaw gave to have Kendall killed.

  Guilt hit Knox. He should tell Johnnie the truth. Kendall’s life was in danger, but not from an outsider. By her own hand. After Outlaw saw her marriage destroyed and her sanity completely gone. He couldn’t say anything, however. Not only would he betray client confidentiality—Outlaw no less—he’d lose his chance to finally rid himself and Roxanne of Kendall. The woman had been a thorn in his side from the time they met.