Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  “Can we eat please?” Digger demanded, before Meggie had a chance to respond.

  Joan stood. “I’ll ring the kitchen to bring out the first course.”

  “What is this shit?” Pearllene demanded, holding her fork in the air. Squid-ink covered linguine hung limply from the utensil.

  “Try it, Momma. It’s good,” Roxy encouraged.

  Her look skeptical, Pearllene sniffed it, then shoved it under her gentleman friend’s nose. “Taste this, Hamish. It smell like my chooney after you fucked it. Tell me if it taste like it.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Knox breathed, laying his fork against the plate as Roxy prayed the ground opened up and squished her like a fucking bug.

  Digger spat the noodles back onto the plate and glared at Pearllene. “I’m not interested in eating nothing that smell like your pussy,” he grouched. “Now if it was Bunny…”

  “Shut up, Mark,” Bunny ordered.

  “Miss Pearllene, you sure is right,” Hamish said. “Taste a lot like your chooney.”

  “Since when you started calling MeMe Miss Pearllene, Hamish?” Carissa demanded. She looked at Liza. “You ever heard him call her that, bae?”

  “He got to add miss to my goddamn name from now on. If I got to pay for a motherfucker plane ticket, then that motherfucker got to put a title to address me.”

  “Goddamn, you ruthless, old woman,” Mortician said, then smirked at Hamish. “Bet your ass sorry you didn’t hitch a ride on Sloane private jet.”

  Hamish shrugged. “Had a roof to finish.”

  “My Hamish a roofer,” Pearllene announced proudly.

  “I don’t take many jobs no more,” Hamish confessed. “After that fifth fall and I broke my leg again, I decided to be real selective, so my cash kind of low nowadays.”

  “As long as you got money for your Viagra, you just fine,” Pearllene reassured him.

  “Can we leave?” Knox begged, his face flaming.

  Too embarrassed to speak, Roxy nodded.

  Pearllene got to her feet, using her cane to brace herself. “You two not going nowhere until I toast you.”

  “That comes after the cake,” Charlotte inserted. “And only if you’re invited.”

  “Did I ask your ass, lady?” Peallene demanded. “And they hearing my toast whether they like it or not. If I hadn’t pushed Roxanne out my pussy, she wouldn’t—”

  “Okay!” Roxy cried, jumping to her feet and holding her hands up. “We get the point. “Just get on with the toast.”

  Pearllene smiled. “Thank you, baby.”

  Grabbing her glass of wine, she raised it, beaming between Knox and Roxy, and Mortician and Bailey.

  “Mortician, you a better grandson to me than the motherfucker that got my blood running through his veins. You got me out of a scape or two with no questions asked. When I call you for something, you never say it’s a problem. You just get it done. Because I’m Bailey MeMe, I’m yours, too. Thank you for looking after all of us so good and being the fine man you are. Congratulations on renewing your vows and the new baby that’ll be coming in late fall.” Pearllene blew a kiss to Bailey. “MeMe love you, Bailey.”

  Bailey stood and went to Pearllene, hugging her tightly. “I love you, too, MeMe,” she said, then released her and stepped aside so Mortician could take her place.

  “Come here, old woman,” he said gruffly, bending down and hugging her.

  Pearllene’s hearty laugh filled Roxy with joy.

  “Chile, if I was just two hours younger, I think I’d have to give up the chooney to you,” Pearllene said around chuckles.

  Rolling his eyes, Mortician released her. “Two hours ago your ass was still the same age.”

  “Boy, don’t make me stick my foot up your ass. You know that was just me showing my wit.”

  “Yeah, man, okay.”

  Allowing Bailey to guide him away, Mortician offered Pearllene a last glower then took his seat.

  “Roxanne, my precious baby,” Pearllen started, aiming her raised glass in their direction. “Oooo, wait, shit. I forgot to drink on Mortician and Bailey toast. Rectifying that immediately, she smiled again and resumed her position. “Roxanne, my precious baby, I never, ever thought your ass would be marrying a fourth goddamn time, but since you are, I’m so happy for you. This time, I hope you get the shit right. I’m about tired of you finding the wrong motherfuckers.”

  “Knox isn’t the wrong man,” Roxy said with reassurance.

  “Congratulations, baby,” Pearllene said, not responding to Roxy’s statement as she turned to Knox. “I heard you haven’t got pussy from Roxanne in months, so I hope you not sticking you dick in no other bitch.”

  “Of course I’m not!” Knox said with indignation as Joan started to sob.

  “Can you shut your momma up?” Pearllene asked.

  “Oh, Joan, I understand,” Charlotte soothed, pushing out of her chair and rushing to Joan, guiding her to her feet. “Come. Let’s retire to the ladies’ room to calm you down.”

  “Momma, that was a beautiful toast,” Roxanne said once Joan and Charlotte were gone.

  “Sit down. I’m not finished.”

  “Fuck.” Huffing out a breath, Roxy drained her wine glass.

  “I got a little advice about bacon grease.”

  “Oh, fuck no!” Roxy jumped to her feet as the distant sound of sirens reached her. “Don’t even say it, Momma.”

  “Wait, I wanna hear,” Outlaw said.

  “No the fuck you don’t,” Roxy snapped.

  “Roxanne right, Prez,” Digger said. “I happen to like bacon and, if this conversation going in the direction I think it is, I won’t ever be able to chew on fried pig again.”

  “I didn’t say a fucking thing about bacon,” Pearllene said with a sniff. “I said bacon grease.”

  “You not getting the grease if you don’t fry the goddamn bacon,” Mortician huffed.

  A loud bang prevented a response. The boys all jumped to their feet, drawing their weapons and inserting themselves of front of their wives. Hamish slid under the table, then yanked Pearllene down. Knox stood in front of Roxy, drawing a weapon of his own, while Cam mirrored his actions with Jordan.

  “Drop your weapons!” an official-sounding voice commanded. “Now!”

  When the guys complied and raised their hands, a sinking feeling dropped into Roxy’s stomach. Standing, she saw members of SWAT aiming rifles in the direction of the tables.

  “What is the meaning of this, officer?” Hal demanded. “I’m Hal Harrington and this is my home where we are hosting a private event!”

  “I’m Lieutenant Mitchell, sir,” one of the officers said. “We’re here to arrest Knox Harrington on charges of gun smuggling.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  With Outlaw not wanting to leave neither Megan or Axel, and Amfinger pressuring Knox to step in to see the deal through, Knox had talked Outlaw into giving into Amfinger’s demands. He’d pointed out that Bailey was pregnant, so Mortician wouldn’t want to leave and Johnnie was busy helping Kendall, getting counseling of his own, and working on his marriage. Although Outlaw could’ve chosen any of the club members to go in his place, Amfinger said he’d be more comfortable negotiating with someone familiar to him. Outlaw, wrapped up in his family’s crisis, had agreed.

  After weeks of exchanges in the midst of riding lessons, completing his tattoos, and fittings, they’d reached a conclusion two weeks ago when Knox traveled to California to deliver suitcases filled with cash, in exchange for a truckload of light arms. Knox didn’t know how to drive a semi, so Cash had ridden into town to save the day.

  While Cash drove the truck back to Hortensia, Knox had to ride the motorcycle.

  “If you fuck up my ride, I’m going to fuck you up,” Cash had warned.

  Knox’s prevailing thought had been, in for a pound, in for a penny, so he’d snatched Cash’s helmet and told the man not to worry. At the time, he never would’ve admitted how nervous he’d been. His motorcycle skills had p
rogressed tremendously since the first lesson, but he wasn’t sure how he’d fare riding hundreds of miles.

  As it turned out, he’d been just fine. It took three, grueling days to get back to the club. At night, Cash insisted they find a place to sleep. He hadn’t expected to rough it outside, but that’s what they’d done.

  Once they arrived back at the club, Knox wasn’t sure what had become of the guns, so how he’d ended up arrested for smuggling, while everyone else was released, he had no idea. It had been doubly humiliating because of the news crews and, then, seeing a few friends from the force when he’d arrived at the police station to be booked in.

  Sitting in the holding cell, burning with anger and embarrassment, Knox decided he needed to rethink the ceremony to Roxanne, due to take place, in less than twenty hours.

  Out of her mind with worry, Roxy directed the limousine driver to go to the police station where Knox was being held. The boys wanted her to pile into one of the limousines with of all of them and head back to the club, but Roxy wouldn’t have been able to rest, so she declined. The guys were going exchange limousines for bikes, while the women would stay behind at the club.

  She couldn’t imagine what was happening. Knox had left for a business trip a couple of weeks ago. She hadn’t questioned him, but now, she wondered if he’d gone on behalf of the club.

  Knox knew how to stick his nose into biker business if it suited him. When she’d discovered his role in Kendall’s downward spiral, she’d been mad as hell. She’d stopped talking to him for two days, until Outlaw told her Knox wouldn’t have participated if he hadn’t threatened him if he didn’t assist.

  “Why the fuck didn’t Knox tell me that?”

  “Cuz I told the motherfucker I’d rip his fuckin’ tongue out if he opened his fuckin’ mouth.”

  She wasn’t sure if Outlaw’s explanation made sense. The man had too many resources to demand Knox’s help, but she hadn’t pointed that out. Instead, she and Knox had had a nice, long talk, where he promised he’d never fuck over one of her babies again.

  Gunfire shattered the limo’s windshield, striking the driver in the head. Blood splashed onto her and the car veered off the road.

  Roxy screamed, terrified, slamming into the seat in front of her and then crashing backwards as the loud noise of the car running into a tree filled the air.

  Immediately, smoke poured from under the ruined hood, flooding the air vents. Ignoring her dizziness and how banged up she felt, Roxy tried to open the doors on either side of her, but neither would budge.

  The first lick of flame rose in the night. Knowing she needed to keep calm, Roxy decided not to bother with kicking the doors in. She held her breath to block out the horrendous fumes, then braced herself on her elbows, using both feet and all her might to break the window glass. She’d expended almost all of her energy by the time the glass finally shattered. The flames were crawling from under the hood, beginning to consume the dashboard.

  Choking and knowing she had to launch herself out as soon as she broke the glass completely—oxygen would only feed the fire—Roxy used her shoulder to finish the glass. Shards of glass stabbed into her, but she didn’t care. She knew she was alive. Face-first, Roxy shoved herself through the broken glass, landing hard on the ground. Refusing to give in, Roxy crawled as far away as she could from the burning car, seeking refuge in foliage as the first explosion rocked the ground.

  A moment later, she managed to get to her feet and limp forward. One of her heels had broken, so she took both shoes off and tossed them away, wishing her phone hadn’t gotten blown up. But the fire behind her was growing and before the entire forest started to burn, she needed to get help.

  The rustle of leaves alerted her to movement. Fuck, she hoped that wasn’t a goddamn wild animal.

  The bright fire illuminated the area, so when a man she hadn’t seen in years stepped in front of her and raised a rifle, she knew who it was immediately.

  Joyner Amfinger.

  Arriving back at the club at five o’clock in the morning, Knox followed Brooks into the main room, finding a beehive of activity. Although Megan and Pearllene sat at Outlaw’s table, Zoann, Ophelia, Bailey, Carissa, Alexia and Bunny were serving food.

  Knox wanted to go to his room and sleep. He wanted to talk to Roxanne, see her face, and hug her. As embarrassed as he was, he decided not to make the mistake of calling off their wedding. He’d lose her forever this time and he’d never forgive himself.

  “You did what I’m payin’ your ass for, huh, Brooks?” Outlaw called.

  “Yes,” Brooks answered, not smiling. He’d been quiet during the entire ride back to the clubhouse, for which Knox was grateful. He hadn’t felt like talking.

  “You okay, Knox?” Outlaw asked.

  “Except for being tired from all the bullshit, I’m excellent,” Knox answered, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m too exhausted to demand an explanation from you about why I was the only one arrested.”

  “Ain’t givin’ a fuck if you was wide the fuck awake, ain’t got a explanation to give you. This shit as much as mystery to me.” He indicated everyone behind him. “But we fuckin’ findin’ out.”

  “Knox, why did you leave Momma outside?” Bailey asked, walking up to him, Outlaw, and Brooks.

  Knox frowned. “Roxanne isn’t here?”

  “What the fuck that mean?” Mortician demanded, joining them. “You fucking see her here?”

  “Your woman went down to the station to wait for Brooks to get his ass there,” Digger said from where he stood at the bar.

  All eyes turned to Brooks. Horror dropping into his face, he shook his head. “I’ve not seen Roxanne,” he managed.

  A thoughtful expression crossed Outlaw’s features. “Bailey, you ever hear of a motherfucker name Joyner Amfinger?” he asked.

  “How do you know that evil fuckhole?” Alexia demanded.

  Staring at Outlaw, Bailey nodded, unease creeping into her face, while Knox’s stomach sank.

  “Joyner Amfinger is Creighton’s minion,” she answered in a faint voice. “He does anything and everything Duke’s father tells him to do.” She swallowed. “Why?”

  Knox staggered back, the horror overcoming him almost knocking him off his feet.

  “Amfinger got a fuckin’ record?” Outlaw pressed.

  “Cretin’s a lawyer,” Pearllene called. “And connections. All anybody would ever see in public records is his ass being a gun dealer or some shit.”

  Carissa snorted. “Amfinger wish he had the balls or the brains to do shit like that. It’s Creighton. All Creighton.”

  “Call that motherfucker cretin like the goddamn heathen he is,” Pearllene demanded. “He met a Jessica Rabbit-looking heifer at one of the strip clubs he owns. Which, by the way, is also the basis for his drug operation.”

  “Roxanne knew what Creighton was up to?” Johnnie demanded.

  “Yeah. I found the evidence in her house,” Pearllene answered. “She never told me. In all the years since her divorce, she never once mentioned it. I think she thought if she just pushed it away, it would go away. But diseased-brain motherfuckers keep turning up. Creighton not going nowhere.”

  “Oh, yeah, the fuck he is,” Outlaw declared. “As soon as I get my fuckin’ hands on him, him, Amfinger, and the fuckin’ guns gonna be blown the fuck up.”

  “No!” Knox said. “We can’t kill them. Let the law take care of them.”

  “For fuckin’ real, assfuck?” Outlaw demanded. “If you get to the motherfucker before my ass, have him arrested. Otherwise, fuck you. We gotta figure where the fuck Roxanne at. What happen to Aintfinger and Cretin can be fuckin’ debated later. Stretch, get a bead on Amfinger phone. If we find him, we find her.”

  Knox debated on whether or not to do it his way or Outlaw’s way. Then, Knox remembered Outlaw was part of Roxanne’s close-knit family, which meant Knox was to. Therefore, he’d stick with them and hope when the time came for retribution he’d be able to look the ot
her way.

  Tied to a chair with a gag in her mouth, Roxy glared as Joyner circled her. The tight clothes he wore and the highness of his hair made him look like a caricature of a man. Except he was more than fucking real.

  “Would you like to hear how Knox’s ex-wife pleaded for her life? Begged me not to kill her.” Joyner laughed as tears began to stream down Roxy’s face. “Don’t know why I did it?” He shrugged. “Oh, that’s right. Lassoing Knox in was taking too long and it annoyed me. I’d been holed up in a shitty little town, with a warehouse full of guns, expecting the job to be easy. I never expected that biker, Outlaw, to be so suspicious.”

  Stopping in front of Roxanne, he thumped her forehead so hard that her neck snapped back. Trying to speak but failing, Roxy kicked his shin.

  Joyner groaned and slapped her cheek. “Don’t test me, woman! I still haven’t gotten back home to my women. I’ve been stuck at this motel with suitcases filled with money, waiting for a chance to get Knox. We finally decided to put our plans into motion tonight. When your daughters told your son they were heading this way for wedding celebrations. Tomorrow, would’ve been your turn. Then, you ended up in a limo by yourself and we expedited the plan.” He smiled. “And here we are.”

  She was dizzy and cut-up. The white dress she intended to preserve for prosperity as part of her wedding ensemble, was torn and stained with blood—hers and the limo driver’s.

  A knock came on the door. Rubbing his hands together, Joyner grinned at her, then went to the door and looked through the peephole.

  “Our guests have arrived,” he announced, unlocking the door and opening it.

  Of all the people she expected to see Creighton and Duke would’ve been the last two she’d guessed. Her son had gotten taller since the last time she’d seen him. But seeing her boy with two of the vilest men she’d ever known sent tears to her eyes. Being with them meant he was against her.

  “I have a fine son,” Creighton announced, smiling.