Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

Once his son and nephew gave him and Megan hugs, Christopher brought his wife to their bedroom and led her to their bed.

  He pointed to the edge. “Sit.”

  Obediently, she followed his directions. Focusing on what his woman needed, he put one foot in front of the other and headed to the bathroom to find peroxide, cotton balls, and antibiotic ointment for her cuts. He also took a washcloth and ran cold water over it, for her black eye.

  “Place this on your eye,” he told her when he returned to their bedroom and handed her the wet cloth.

  Without question, she did as she was told.

  Sighing, Christopher took her free hand and examined the cuts on her knuckles. Pouring peroxide onto several cotton balls, he dabbed her injuries.

  “Ow!” she moaned. “That hurt.”

  “I know, baby,” he said gruffly. “When you give a motherfucker a beat down, your hands get as fucked the fuck up as their face. Punch a motherfucker in the mouth, you graze fuckin’ sharp ass teeth. Hit a assfuck in the nose, you hit fuckin’ cartilage. Shit ain’t as hard as bone, but, dependin’ on the velocity of your fuckin’ fists, you still injure yourself.”

  “You sound like an expert on fist fights,” she said with a small smile.

  “I had my fuckin’ fair share,” he admitted, leaning forward to kiss the top of her head. He drew in a deep breath and focused on tending to her injuries, not on her scent, her nearness. “You okay, Megan?” he finally asked.

  “No. Yes. I don’t know.” Her lower lip trembled, then she sucked in a breath, and anger transformed her features. “I cannot believe Kendall.” She shook her head. “No, I can’t believe me. I gave her the benefit of the doubt so many times, Christopher. I sided with her over you. I’ll never forgive Kendall. Never. I don’t ever want to see her again.”

  On the last word, her voice broke.

  “We are…we were family,” she sobbed. “How could she do this to us? To CJ? To Johnnie?”

  “Cuz she a conscienceless cunt, baby. She don’t see people. She see steppin’ stones.” Abandoning his triage, he sat next to her, put an arm around her shoulder, and hugged her close. “This a valuable lesson, Megan. I been tellin’ you to leave that bitch the fuck alone, but you wasn’t ready. I shoulda backed the fuck off and trusted you was gonna get to a fuckin’ point where you had e-fuckin-nuff. It’s just that you hurt now and I don’t never want you in pain.”

  “You can’t protect me from everything. Life is a learning experience. That’s the only way we grow and become better.”

  Christopher nodded and dragged her onto his lap, resting his chin on the crown of her head. He grunted and covered the jolt of cock-and-ball pain with a forced smile. “What the fuck you mean when you told me I already fuckin’ messed with the business of my cock?”

  Did she know what he’d done?

  “We were…are…were, um, there’s an argument going on between us. I didn’t think we’d make love tonight. That’s what I meant. Why what did you think I meant? What else is going on?”

  He’d sworn to Megan that he’d never lie to her. He could always not tell her something, but, for the most part, if she asked him a direct question, he’d answer her honestly. There were some exceptions to this rule, as in Traveler and Dinah’s deaths, but that was about it.

  As proud and as gleeful as he was that Megan had fucked up Kendall, he knew, too, a certain innocence had been lost within her. She might become less trusting.

  Less forgiving.

  He also had the sin of meeting Emily without Megan’s knowledge to live with. Kendall was on her No-Kill list. He’d promised he wouldn’t kill her. He’d also sworn never to hide any meetings he had with other women. Fuck, but he was batting a fucking thousand.

  In comparison, his procedure seemed inconsequential.

  “I got my dick snip flipped,” he confessed.

  She was quiet for a moment. “You got the vasectomy reversal?”

  “Yeah, Megan. Yesterday. I ain’t sure I was gonna tell you, so I let our disagreements get the fuck outta hand.”

  The washcloth slipped down as her hand went slack and mutiny gathered in her one punched-up blue eye; the other motherfucker was red from her crying. “You would’ve just let me end up pregnant and think your vasectomy failed?” she asked, appalled.

  “Not at fuckin’ first,” he said quickly. “Then you threw me a fuckin’ curve when you told my ass you ain’t want no more lil’ motherfuckers.”

  She heaved in a breath, then cocked her head to the side, her anger leaving her. “Do you really want us to have another baby that bad?”

  He picked up on the hopeful note in her tone.

  “Do it matter?” he asked cautiously. “Ain’t you said you ain’t want no more babies cuz you were in shape and shit?”

  “That’s what I’d been trying to talk to you about this morning, when you got up and walked away,” she said in a hurt tone.

  “I ain’t able to fuck you for two fuckin’ weeks, but I fuckin’ figured in five or six days, my cock and balls woulda looked normal a-fuckin-gain, so we coulda made up.”

  “You only want to control my movements, or do you truly want us to have a bigger family?”

  They definitely didn’t need more children. But she probably wouldn’t like that answer and he’d do whatever to protect her. If that meant manipulating the situation, so be it.

  Tipping her chin up, he brushed his lips over hers, ignoring the dried blood.

  “You love lil babies, Megan. I ain’t ever shoulda took that away from you, baby.”

  Her unfucked eye lit up, while the blackened motherfucker swelled a little more. “I thought long and hard about this, last night. When you brought up another pregnancy, you shocked me. Then, I realized how happy I was at the thought of carrying another baby by you. How many more do you want?”

  What the fuck did she mean? One more wouldn’t be enough?

  He cleared his throat. “How many more you want?”

  “Three,” she said breathlessly.

  What the motherfuck? “You want eight fuckin’ kids?”

  She nodded. “Then I’ll get back on birth control.”

  He’d cross that bridge when he came to it. Right now, he had to get their sixth kid in her. Until then, Christopher wouldn’t rest easy. At least, though, they were on the right fucking road and on the same fucking page.

  Now that he had Megan’s consent, it was of the ut-fucking-most importance to stay on track for Roxanne and Bailey’s fucking ceremony.

  Well, fuck. Did that fucking mean he’d have to hold off on his plans for psycho cunt?

  Ex-fuckin-scuse me. Beat-the-fuck-up psycho cunt.

  No. Fuck no. Just fucking NO! The quicker he got rid of that bitch the better. Delaying shit would derail the plans; going forward with his plans would ensure smooth sailing right to the fucking altar and Wilcunt.

  Megan hugged him, recapturing his attention. “I love you so much.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and nosed her hair. “I love you, too, Megan. More than my own fuckin’ life.”

  If she wanted three more babies, he’d just have to find a fucking way to make their house bigger. As long as his woman was happy and safe, he’d be fine.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Early the next morning, Knox banged on the front door of Mortician and Bailey’s house, purposely bypassing the bell. He wanted to break down the fucking door. The asshat had guards on the path that led to Roxy’s little house. Knox spent the entire night seething. At Mortician’s dictates. At the return of Roxanne’s indifference and his own disappointment when he’d realized there wasn’t an assignation planned. His combined emotions made sleep impossible, though Mortician’s orders riled him the most. Well, it would stop today! If Megan Caldwell finally grew a spine and stood up to Kendall, then Knox could surely do the same with Mortician, Outlaw, and whichever other imbecile gave him guff.

  Throwing the door open, Mortician glared at Knox, not inviting him into the warmth o
f the house.

  “It’s six o’clock in the fucking morning, Knox. What the fuck do you want?”

  “I want my woman,” Knox stated with cool firmness. “And I intend to take her. You aren’t stopping me, so call your goons off.”

  Mortician stepped outside, closing the door to just a small gap. In his bare feet, he only wore jeans, but he seemed unaffected by the cold.

  “Make me, motherfucker,” he said, so close to Knox’s face that their noses almost touched.

  Holding firm, Knox stiffened his shoulders. “This is ridiculous. You’re treating Roxanne as if she’s a little virgin from the 1950s. Well, she’s far from it, and you’re not keeping me away from her a moment longer.”

  Mortician’s eyes flared in surprise and Knox puffed out his chest. Mortician was going to back off and give in to the inevitable.

  “Okay, have it your way,” Mortician conceded. “On one condition.”

  Knox rolled his eyes. Did Mortician really think to outsmart him again? For curiosity’s sake, Knox would go along with this silly game. “Name it and it’s yours, if it’ll bring this ridiculous moratorium to an end.”

  “I’ll escort you to Roxanne, this fucking minute, and let you move back in, if you confess to the bullshit about proposing to her, fucking her, and then walking away because you really don’t want to marry her.”

  Knox’s mouth fell open and he released a pathetic squeak. “What good would that do? Besides, I didn’t say those exact words.”

  “You said something to that effect, motherfucker. You also said she showed her ignorance by driving the purple Navigator that was a present from another motherfucker.”

  Mortician really felt as if he was protecting Roxanne because he didn’t trust Knox’s intentions. If it wasn’t so goddamn interfering, it might be a little endearing that a big, bad motorcycle man protected his wife’s mother so fiercely. “I didn’t mean what I said, Mortician! How many fucking times do I have to repeat myself so you’ll understand the meaning of my words? You people pissed me the fuck off. How did you expect me to respond?”

  “By acting like you had a little fucking respect for your head being in one piece. ‘Cause, you know, I almost blew it the fuck off.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  Mortician raised his hand and indicated silence. “You meant every word, Knox. Know how I know? You the motherfucker that said your parents wouldn’t be happy if you married Roxy. Look how your momma treating her? And we all know how much you hate her purple car. The fact that Outlaw gave it to her make it that much more unbearable. So, yeah, Knox, you meant all of what you said.”

  Knox lifted his hands in supplication. “I swear…I swear,” he started in desperation, “I didn’t. I love her so much. I can’t wait to marry her. There’s no way I can tell her what I said.”

  “You know that shit won’t go over well with her.”

  “And so do you. You want to sabotage our relationship.”

  “No. I want you to be fair and honest with her. I want her to know you man enough to own up to your shittiness. I want you to apologize to her for even thinking that disrespectful bullshit.”

  “There’s nothing for me to apologize to her for. You’re being ridiculous.” A thought popped into his head. “I’ll pay you. What do you want? A million dollars? Two? Three? I’ll go as high as five.”

  “Just what the fuck you paying me for? To let you move back in with her or to shut the fuck up about your bitch-ass words?”

  “I don’t know.” Knox thrust a hand through his hair. “Either. Both.”

  “First off? You don’t know shit about me. I don’t need your fucking money. Second, even if I did, no money in the world enough for me to turn away from protecting Roxanne. I value her well-being over some bitch-ass blood money.”

  “A little gung-ho, aren’t you?” Knox sneered, losing his patience. “What man in your position wouldn’t want five million dollars? Whether it’s for silence or cooperation, the point is moot. It’s still five million dollars.”

  “Can’t miss your money if I never had it. But, in case you don’t realize it, I don’t need your goddamn money. I got my own.”

  At that statement, Knox laughed. “A pittance compared to what I’m offering, I’m sure.”

  Mortician threw him a nasty grin. “As much as I want to break every bone in your face, the way you itching for me to do, I’m not. Go back to the club, Knox. I don’t trust you anymore than you trust me. Therefore, you and her still being chaperoned.” He backed into his house. “See you at the club.”

  Before Knox had a chance to respond, Mortician slammed the door in his face.

  Knox slammed his hand against the door. “You’re an asshole!” he yelled.

  If Mortician heard, he gave no indication because Knox received no answer.

  Kicking the door one last time, Knox growled, turned on his heel, and stormed back toward the club. For now, he was thwarted, but he was determined to find a way back into Roxanne’s arms before the wedding.

  Before, this chaperoning had been an annoying nuisance. Now, it was a matter of pride and principle.

  “Psst.”

  The loud sound stopped Knox in his tracks, just as Roxy hoped. It was still dark outside, but the lights interspersed amongst the trees assisted her in tracking his progress.

  She glanced over her shoulder, to make sure she was still alone. Mortician had all kinds of fucking tricks up his sleeve.

  Knox stood within a beam of artificial light. It glinted off his blond hair and revealed his frustration in the tight lines on his handsome face. He hadn’t spotted her yet, so he turned and started to storm away again.

  “Knox,” she called. “Wait! It’s me.”

  “Roxanne?” he whispered in disbelief, swallowed up by the darkness.

  “Let’s get off the pathway,” she suggested, rubbing her arms at the chill in the air. She wore a snuggly fleece bed jacket that offered some warmth, but her silk pajamas weren’t much of a barrier, especially her legs.

  “I refuse to hide like I’m a damn boy,” he told her, still at a distance. He hadn’t come any closer. “I’m sick of this. I don’t want to sneak around anymore, like we had to do yesterday.”

  Roxy sighed. Motherfuckers and their egos. Getting pussy-blocked was damn annoying, but, after she stewed over Mortician’s explanation, she found it funny and a little endearing that he was going through all this trouble to protect her.

  “We can get another quick forest fuck,” she suggested.

  “No.”

  The one word came out terse and final. Counting to ten, Roxy told herself to stay calm. Knox had every right to be so put out.

  “Why don’t we go to the club house and get a cup of coffee?” she asked as sweet as can be. “I can meet you there. I’ll throw some clothes on and start breakfast early.”

  He released an irritated sigh. “Are you sure Mortician will allow you to—”

  “I understand you’re frustrated,” she broke in. “But it’s kind of funny, too. The boy is going through so much trouble…” Her voice trailed off and the little voice in her head that made her confront Mortician yesterday and insisted there was a method to his madness rose up. The one thing Mort wasn’t was a fucking hypocrite. As distasteful as the thought was, both he and Roxy knew he’d fucked Bailey before they were married, then acted like a pure ‘D’ fool afterwards. A grade-A ass…A…Roxy’s train of thought slipped away.

  She hated how much she forgot. Her oncologist insisted she’d had very strong chemotherapy, and was still taking another type of strong chemotherapy, so side effects were to be expected.

  “Roxanne, why did you stop me if you have nothing to say that I want to hear?”

  “Knox—”

  “You promised me you’d find a way for us to be together. Yet, you find Mortician’s bullshit endearing.”

  Her hackles rose at how he sneered the word. “I did find a way for us to be together yesterday.”

  Knox ig
nored her. “Why the fuck are you allowing his high-handedness?”

  “I told you—” she started.

  “Excuse me, but I don’t believe you. You’re the first person to tell someone to fuck off. You’ve done it to me. You’ve done it to my mother. Everyone, except Outlaw and Mortician. What gives, Roxanne?”

  Roxy sighed. “I miss you as much as you miss me, sugar. But protecting me is important to him, Knox. He’s a good man. Let’s just go along with him to put him at ease.”

  After hearing from Joyner, she knew it also went back to how many times she’d been married—and divorced. It stemmed from Duke’s words—how he saw her. Each day a new fear rose up; a new concern that marrying Knox wasn’t the best idea. She couldn’t get over her fear that she would ruin a good thing if she married Knox.

  His uppityness didn’t help. Roxy had only to look at Kendall, and how unhappy she stayed because she could never find her place in the club. Thought herself above everyone.

  Knox was the same way. And his mother was the worst bitch in the world, which really didn’t help matters.

  “Maybe, I want to see how well you fit in at the club. Those boys are my family. I don’t want you to decide you’ve made a mistake after our vows, Knox.”

  He released a bitter laugh. “I told you that wouldn’t happen when you first mentioned this to me. Obviously, you don’t believe me. You think that little of me?”

  “Of course not,” she protested. “I love you very much. That’s just the point. Think about Kendall. The child is so unhappy because she doesn’t think she’s on the same level as Meggie and any of the other women.”

  “She isn’t,” Knox told her. “However, I resent the comparison.”

  Revealing herself to Knox had been a mistake. She hadn’t been able to sleep, so she’d decided to go stand on her landing for a little fresh air.

  She’d been relishing the serenity of damp earth smells, barren trees, and cold air and missing Knox with everything in her. Since he’d moved to the club, she hadn’t slept well. Surrounded by quietness, she’d heard the banging on Mortician and Bailey’s front door. Two guards, who’d not so long returned to duty, after sleeping in the garage, rushed from their posts around her quarters. They weren’t alarmed, so Roxy’s suspicions had roused. She’d casually invited them in for coffee since it had already been brewing, then told them she needed to talk to Bailey.