Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  “Don’t let your Ma know you told me, CJ,” he ordered, thinking of all the ways Megan would drive him the fuck out of his mind tonight, with her pussy, hands, mouth, and ass. “Her feelins gonna be hurt.”

  CJ was silent a moment. “You mad at me?”

  “No.” He blew out an agitated breath. “I just…is your Ma there?”

  “Her in her office. Mommie left her phone on the counter in the kitchen. I pretend I real tired and Aunt Bunny took me to my room. When her left I got up, though, and did a reeeaaaaal quiet foot and come to the kitchen to call you to tell you what Mommie doing and cuz I miss you, ‘Law.”

  Any reprimand Christopher might’ve given died on his lips at CJ’s confession. His heart melted for his boy and he felt like a fucking dickhead for his irritation. “I miss you, too, boy,” he said gruffly. “And don’t say cuz. It’s because.”

  “You say cuz,” CJ pointed out.

  Fuck him. He’d already started saying shit like about when he was home. More and more, when he was out, too, although he did enjoy annoying the fuck out of Knox. He didn’t mind talking correct…ly…as possible, if it meant his children benefitted. Even if it was a pain in the motherfucking ass. That shit also fucking doomed him to say because instead of ‘cuz’.

  “CJ!” Megan’s call came through the line and Christopher’s ears perked.

  “Bye, ‘Law,” CJ whispered. “Gotta go so MegAnn don’t find me.”

  “Put—”

  The line disconnected. Just like that his irritation returned. He thought about calling her but he had a lot to see to today. Somehow, distribution day had fallen on the same day as his hydrogrow check.

  He’d been having a wonderful fucking time with his girl and their children the past few days. He’d taken Megan for a ride, then found a secluded spot to fuck her on the bike.

  He’d taken Megan shopping for another dress to replace the one he’d burned. She’d been upset but when he told her his reasons, she’d hugged him, then stood and removed every piece of white clothing she owned. Some were her favorite pieces, too. She hadn’t flinched. Christopher had given himself a good fucking talking to. He couldn’t allow his girl not to wear whatever the fuck she wanted. An hour after she’d stored the motherfuckers in the attic, he’d gotten them out and returned them to her closet.

  Be-fuckin-sides, since his last nightmare, he hadn’t had another one. It was as if his subconscious registered the dick snip flip and knew he’d found a way to protect Megan.

  Just as fucking awesome was Johnnie had finally met Emily. It was already Friday, and the motherfucker had been walking around like a fucking zombie. Emily kept Christopher updated, though, and Christopher knew Johnnie had called her twice.

  Megan’s face rose in his head. Guilt hit him hard. He thought again of calling her, just to hear her sweet voice and hope she never found out about Emily.

  If he called Megan, he might pussy out and confess. Besides, he needed to get finished with work, so he could get home for her “surprise” that wasn’t a surprise anymore.

  He couldn’t not communicate with her, though.

  Hey, baby, he texted. I love you and I miss the fuck outta you.

  A minute passed, then two…three…four. Nothing came through. She was probably dealing with their terror of a son.

  Unbidden, he wondered what Big Joe would’ve thought of CJ. He was growing so fast. A part of Christopher wanted his boy to stay a kid forever. He had only Big Joe to go by as a role model for a fatherly figure. While CJ was still young, it was easy for Christopher to make up his own rules. But what about as he got older?

  He could’ve brought his boy with him today. Other than fifty fucking questions, CJ wouldn’t have been a problem. In all honesty, Christopher would’ve enjoyed having his boy with him. But would that be fair? He’d be introducing him to the darker side of club life without CJ being old enough to really have a choice, indoctrinating him into a world that wasn’t for everybody. What type of pressure would that put on his boy? If Christopher brought CJ with him to the warehouses and to distribution days, by the time he grew up, the members would expect his son to be a mini him.

  Christopher refused to have any of his children live in his shadow. They were their own people with their own personalities. And if he didn’t expect CJ to be the next “Outlaw”, another motherfucker better not think to do it.

  His phone indicated an incoming message.

  I love you too, he read. CJ told me he told you about my surprise.

  Christopher re-read the line, then guffawed. The lil motherfucker always told on himself to his Ma.

  Ima pretend I ain’t knowin a fuckin thing Megan

  In response, she sent three heart emojis and an emoji blowing a kiss.

  Still grinning, he turned his attention back to the plants. It seemed as if Potter and Slipper were doing their job and maintaining the crop sufficiently. Slacking off meant certain death. This warehouse represented a lot of money. Especially since legalization hadn’t affected his operation. First, it was geared to medicinal and recreational users.

  He snickered. He wasn’t either.

  And the market was so glutted with “legitimate” growers that their yields were losing value.

  But Christopher still had buyers along the Pacific Coast and North of the Border. He still had portions sent to the other chapters, delivered by brothers he personally chose. He had overseas buyers and buyers along the all-important I-95 Corridor, although the badges there were fucking formidable, and harder to pay-off.

  Footsteps grabbed his attention and he looked in the direction of the sound.

  “Jesus Christ, what the hell do you have in here?” Knox said on a pussified gasp.

  Johnnie rushed behind him and offered Knox a pair of safety glasses. “I told you not to comment on what’s in here, Knox.”

  Knox snatched the glasses and held them up. “What are these for?”

  “To put the fuck on so these fuckin’ lights don’t fuck up your fuckin’ eyes.”

  After answering Knox, Christopher glared at Johnnie. Or dumb fucking assfuck. “What the fuck you bring him in here for, motherfucker?”

  “He’s fine, Christopher.” Johnnie slid his own glasses on. “He’s about to be a member of the family.”

  “Yeah cuz space about to be made when I fuck you the fuck up,” Christopher snapped. “Besides, him and Roxanne ain’t back to-fuckin-gether as far as I fuckin’ know.”

  Knox’s entire fucking face drooped.

  What had the motherfucker done to piss Roxanne off so fucking much that she called the engagement off? For the last six days, she’d stuck to her story, while Knox stayed close to fucking tears, watching with a begging-dog expression. When she talked to the motherfucker, Knox seemed as if he could sprout fucking wings and fly. She went out of her way to not say a fucking word to the motherfucker. Meanwhile, the assfuck stuck close to the club. Closer than he had before the fucking breakup.

  “What other illegal operation you have going on here?” Knox asked like the stupid motherfucker he was.

  Disgusted, Christopher yanked his glasses off and threw them aside, then stomped past Johnnie and Knox.

  “Hold on, Knox,” Johnnie complained.

  Both him and Knox were hot on Christopher’s heels.

  Sunlight blasted his eyes when he stepped outside, releasing the door in hopes of slamming the fuck out of both motherfuckers.

  “Wait, Christopher,” Johnnie called. “Knox, you’re not supposed to mention—”

  Christopher spun on his heel, forcing Johnnie and Knox to an abrupt halt. They almost collided with him. He stared at Knox. “We ain’t got one fuckin’ illegal operation goin’ on here, motherfucker. My ass just fucked you up a few weeks ago. Don’t make me carve your fuckin’ eyeballs out and use a vegetable fuckin’ peeler on your goddamn tongue.”

  “You’re a fucking savage,” Knox gritted.

  “And you a fuckin’ assfuck, so we fuckin’ even.”

>   “Me?” Knox said, outraged. He indicated himself with a sweep of his hand. “I didn’t beat myself up. More than once, I might add.”

  Christopher didn’t have time for this shit. He needed to make sure the pills and powder were all accounted for and ready for delivery before the pickups from the support clubs in a few hours.

  “Knox accepted us months ago, Christopher. He even apologized,” Johnnie reminded him. “Why do you still have such an attitude with him.”

  “Cuz un-fuckin-like you, motherfucker, I know this motherfucker a motherfucker. He ain’t meant that shit.”

  “I did mean it, Outlaw. Do not put words in my mouth.”

  Shoving Johnnie out the way and ignoring his indignant growl, frustrated as a motherfucker with Johnnie and his dumb fucking choices, Christopher stopped inches from Knox and narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck happen then? One fuckin’ minute you makin’ up and apologizin’ to the club and the next fuckin’ moment you puttin’ yourself above us motherfuckers again.”

  Knox stiffened. “What are you talking about? I invited you into my home when it was Roxanne’s turn to do the family dinners. I share my expensive alcohol with you. I try to expand your horizons.”

  “Ain’t your fuckin’ crib. Unless you suddenly grew a cunt, you livin’ in the Ma-in-law quarters. You know what Ma mean right? A pussy. As far as I fuckin’ know you don’t have one. Ain’t my fuckin’ fault you act like one.”

  “Whatever!” Knox said in frustration. “My point is you have no reason to believe I didn’t mean my apology.”

  “I don’t just fuckin’ believe it, assfuck. I know it.”

  “You’re a mind reader now, Outlaw?”

  “Nope. Just not a fuckin’ stupid motherfucker.” Speaking of stupid motherfuckers, Christopher glared at Johnnie.

  “Hey!” Johnnie blared. “I resent that look.”

  “Maybe, you pre-fuckin-fer this: You a fuckin’ stupid motherfucker. Better?”

  Johnnie scowled at Christopher, but he glowered him into pussification. When Johnnie dropped his gaze, Christopher turned the same look on Knox.

  “Fuck! Fine!” Knox raised his hands. “This way you handled Jordan’s situation made me realize…” His voice trailed off and he shrugged.

  “That I ain’t leavin’ no loose fuckin’ ends?”

  “Yeah, that,” Knox agreed.

  “I ain’t got fuckin’ time for this.” Christopher turned on his heel. “You just a elitist motherfucker. Be-fuckin-sides bein’ a fuckin’ badge at heart. You just ain’t able to come to fuckin’ terms with our lifestyle.”

  Kind of like Kendall. Those two belonged together. But Johnnie wanted that bitch and Knox loathed her. It crossed Christopher’s mind that Knox might be there to talk to him about the Kendall Mission, but before Christopher could ask if Knox needed to talk to him in private, Johnnie spoke, and stopped Christopher in his tracks.

  “Knox has someone who’s interested in selling light arms to us,” Johnnie said.

  Sure he’d misheard, Christopher frowned. “What the fuck you talkin’ about, John Boy? What the fuck we know about sellin’ fuckin’ weapons?”

  “Oh, please.” Knox snorted. “Don’t insult my intelligence with your bullshit.”

  “Can’t fuckin’ insult what the fuck you ain’t got,” Christopher snapped.

  “Oh, I like that,” Knox responded.

  “Ain’t givin’ a fuck,” Christopher responded.

  “What we doing?” Val asked, creeping up to them, along with Mort and Digger. “Shooting the shit outside?”

  “The Cosmetics together.” Digger elbowed Mort. “Plastics would be fucking better for you and Knox, Johnnie, but Mean Girls took that.”

  “Mean Girls?” Christopher echoed. “What the fuck your bitch ass watchin’ that shit for?”

  Digger shrugged. “Bunny like it and watch it a lot.”

  “That don’t mean you got to watch it,” Mortician grumbled.

  “Says the motherfucker who watch Frozen on repeat because Harley like it,” Digger retorted.

  “Outlaw watch Cinderella with Rebel,” Mortician complained.

  All eyes turned to Christopher and he glowered at Mort. “If I knock your fuckin’ teeth out, motherfucker, you ain’t gonna be able to repeat my fuckin’ secrets.”

  “Didn’t mean to let that slip, Outlaw,” Mortician said in a conciliatory tone. “Anyway, we watch the shows with our fucking daughters.” He pointed an accusing finger at Digger. “This motherfucker watch Mean Girls ‘cause of his wife.”

  “What’s Frozen?” Johnnie asked, clueless as usual.

  “A kid movie.” Val threw an exasperated look to Johnnie. “Ryan and Devon watch it. They like it. So do Rory.”

  “My son likes a movie for girls?” Johnnie asked with indignation.

  “That shouldn’t matter, Johnnie,” Knox said with a frown. “As long as it is age-appropriate. When Grant visits, he plays with Harley’s dolls sometimes.”

  “That’s your son and your business. My son should be playing with cars and blocks and…and knives.”

  Digger leaned against Mortician and shook his head. “You showing you a Cosmetic in more than one fucking way, bruh.”

  “I told you to stop calling me that,” Johnnie said. “Just because both Knox and I had plastic surgery to repair damage doesn’t make us plastic or give you the right to call us a cosmetic.”

  “I like Cosmetic better then the Motherfuckers-Outlaw-Broke-and-or-Shot.” Digger straightened and shrugged. “But I can call you that, too.”

  “Fuck you,” Johnnie growled, balling his fists.

  “Digger, I’m all out my cigarettes,” Mortician said, staring at Johnnie in warning. “Give me one of yours.”

  Knox snorted. “Rude as ever.”

  Snatching the cigarette Digger held out to him, Mortician threw a foul look to Knox, then returned to staring at Johnnie.

  “Back the fuck up off each other,” Christopher ordered. “Leave Digger the fuck alone, Johnnie. Mort, Johnnie ain’t gonna do Digger nothin’.” He was out of patience because they’d strayed so far off the bombshell Johnnie and Knox had dropped before Val, Mort, and Digger walked up. “I wanna know what the fuck gave Knox the fuckin’ impression we fuckin’ run guns, Johnnie?”

  “We were having a conversation about the guns we lost to our brothers,” Johnnie answered in exasperation. “Remember them?”

  Christopher stared at Johnnie as if the motherfucker had grown two heads. He couldn’t fucking believe he’d heard that shit right. He couldn’t forget those fucking guns or their assfuck half-brothers. He’d been kidnapped because of them. Them—and Kendall.

  Those guns had been a problem from the moment the club purchased them. Christopher had run guns before and was successful, but these motherfuckers had seemed cursed. Just in the purchase, they’d lost fucking money. Since the fucked-up mission where a motherfucker named McCallister had supposedly wanted to buy them—in fucking truth, he’d been a lure to get Christopher in his half-brothers’ clutches—Christopher had stayed far the fuck away from running arms.

  Fuck him but he was going fucking soft. He was having nightmares like a girl. He was allowing a potentially lucrative deal to slip away like a dickhead…Fuck!

  He scrubbed a hand over his face, tired from his lack of sleep. “Who the fuck the seller and how much he askin’?” Christopher demanded.

  “Joyner Amfinger.”

  “Never fuckin’ heard of him.”

  “Does that admit you make illicit deals?” Knox pressed.

  Yeah, in-fuckin-deed, Christopher was getting soft. Johnnie needed to be fucked up for discussing club business with a non-member. And Knox needed to be fucking grounded for knowing the shit.

  Christopher sidled a glance at Johnnie. “Johnnie, you can’t keep your fuckin’ mouth shut.”

  “Do you want the details or not?” Knox asked before Johnnie answered.

  “Not,” Christopher snarled. “Not from you, motherf
ucker. We go to make the fuckin’ deal and you gonna have badges swarmin’ my fuckin’ ass.”

  “I would never do that!” Knox protested. “I love Roxanne. If the club goes down, she’ll be affected, too.”

  “Your savin’ grace is Roxanne love your fuckin’ ass,” Christopher pointed out.

  “Yeah, bruh,” Digger added. “The moment we discover you fucked up is the moment we kill you.”

  “Luckily, that hasn’t happened. We don’t have to kill you,” Johnnie said.

  Knox glanced at Johnnie and widened his eyes. “What do you mean we? I thought you were on my side.”

  “He on the side of the club, son,” Mortician said. “That mean we might’ve been shooting the shit with you last night but then you fuck up today and we got to fuck you up I don’t fucking believe Roxanne a fucking but when she say she decided marriage wasn’t for her.”

  “Even though you have tattoos and smoke weed and wear a cut, I thought you were more like me, Johnnie.”

  Ignoring Mortician and staying focused on Johnnie, Knox sounded devastated.

  Digger and Mortician looked at each other, then roared with laughter.

  “Johnnie a stone fucking killer, Knox,” Val said, smiling.

  While his boys laughed at Knox’s expense, Christopher lit a smoke. “Forget about the fuckin’ guns we lost, Knox,” he said. “It’s in your best fuckin’ interest. Don’t stick your fuckin’ nose in club business when you ain’t a member and never will be.”

  “Suppose I want to become a member?” Knox asked.

  Christopher lifted a brow, momentarily stunned at Knox’s answer, then he looked at Johnnie, Mort, Val, and Digger. Together, they guffawed.

  “That’s not that fucking funny,” Knox spat after several minutes went by and they were all still laughing.

  “Yeah, the fuck it is,” Christopher said, wiping tears from his eyes. “You sayin’ you wanna be a Dweller like me sayin’ I wanna be a badge.” He howled again. “That shit just ain’t ever fuckin’ happenin’.”

  “You people are so juvenile,” Knox complained.