Chapter 3 - Misunderstood - Original Draft

 

3

                Not many people remained in the clubhouse as Johnnie entered. Those who were there wore grim and dazed expressions. Stretch sat at the bar, nursing a beer, eyes bleak and shoulders slumped. He’d sip and pull at his mop of brown hair, repeating it over and over.

            Normally, Mortician served the drinks, but Val, their Road Captain, stood behind the long, battered bar. A bleeding skull peeped from his white shirt and covered the scar left from the bullet wound he’d received at the hands of one of Outlaw’s father. No smile to show his dimples. His austere expression made the tear-drop tat under his left eye stand out more than it normally did.

            He wore a buzz cut. As he recovered from the gunshot, his hair had grown out. Instead of going completely bald like he’d been for years, he’d allow hair to crop up. He still looked like a dangerous motherfucker. And he still was.

            Johnnie went to the bar and before he could ask, Val slid a bottle of whisky to him. Johnnie opened it and drank, then turned to Stretch. “You fucked up.”

            Stretch’s gaze flickered to Johnnie, then darted away.

            “I’m sorry—“

            Johnnie swiped the man’s beer off the counter and crashed his fist against his face, knocking him off the stool and on his ass on the floor.

            Johnnie’s gaze met Val’s. “This asswipe fucked up and all he can say is he’s sorry?”

            Val cocked a brow. “Maybe, we need to make him really sorry.”

            Stretch scrambled to his knees and Johnnie frowned. “What the fuck? Is this fucker getting up without permission?”

            “I’m sorry,” he said in a trembling voice, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I swear I’d never do anything to hurt Meggie.”

            Johnnie stood and punched him again. Blood spurted from Stretch’s nose and he curled up on the floor. “You don’t get to say her name.” He pulled his .38, wishing he still carried his Glock, and shoved it against Stretch’s temple. He couldn’t kill him. That right belonged to Outlaw, but Johnnie wanted someone to suffer for what Megs had gone through.

            He hadn’t heard from Outlaw, yet, and decided to hold on to the belief of no news being good news.

            Stretch trembled and stared at Johnnie, the terror in his blue eyes too satisfying for Johnnie’s comfort. There was a reason his road name had once been Iceman. Like Outlaw, he was Big Joe’s protégé and Megan’s father had been lethal. And one remorseless asshole.

            “Please, Johnnie,” Stretch whispered, blood smeared on his cheeks and hands from attempting to clean up his leaking nose. “I’ll do anything to make up how much I fucked up.”

            “Where the fuck were you?”

            Tears filled Stretch’s eyes and he shook his head. “Please.”

            Johnnie cocked the gun.

            “John Boy,” Val called in warning. “Meggie likes Stretch. We gotta wait to see what Outlaw wants to do.”

            Anger and the need for vengeance pounded through Johnnie and his hand shook. But Val was right, Megan did like Stretch.

            Johnnie wanted answers, though. Stretch had slacked on the job. There hadn’t even been Probates on duty, which had been Stretch’s job to make sure they did what was expected of them while they watched over the vehicles in the parking lot.

            “I don’t give a fuck,” he growled. “He has no good reason for not protecting Megs.”

            Stretch swallowed and looked at him with earnest blue eyes. Kind of like the expression in Kendall’s big, brown ones. Thinking of her darkened his mood further and he pulled his gun away from Stretch’s head before he pulled the trigger in reflexive anger.

            “I might put my piece away if you answer me.”

            “I…I was getting my dick sucked,” he said quietly.

            Johnnie crouched down and studied the man, his mind working. A couple of conclusions hit him and he glanced at Val. No fucking way Stretch was implying what it sounded like. He used the barrel of his loaded gun to scratch his temple. “This was a family affair, Stretch. Unless you snuck a Bob on premises, only other motherfuckers who were outside with you were men.”

            Stretch sagged against the floor and closed his eyes.

            Johnnie arched an eyebrow and popped to his feet, staring at the prone, bleeding man. “Get the fuck up, asshole,” he ordered and stalked to the bar. He shoved his pistol back into his cut, grabbed the bottle and drank from it. Deeply.

            On his feet, Stretch looked between Johnnie and Val, his eyes haunted and frightened.

            Digger walked in just then, holding Little Man, who was asleep in his arms. But Outlaw ordered Digger not to let Little Man out of his sight. The door opened and Mortician walked in, heading for the bar and opening his cut to grab his baggie filled with everything needed to make a joint. K-P paused in the archway, the mural of the Grim Reaper spreading behind him.

            “Was there some type of fucking alarm that went off to summon all of you at once?” Johnnie grumbled. “Roll me my own, Mort.” He’d ask about Kendall in a few minutes. He needed to address Stretch and...”Stay the fuck over there, Digger. Don’t want Little Man floating in his sleep.”

            Mortician scowled, but handed Johnnie the roll he’d just finished. After taking a few puffs, Johnnie motioned Stretch over.

            Before Johnnie uttered a word, K-P stomped over and slapped the side of Mortician’s head. “I need a word with you.”

            “Fuck off,” Mortician ordered. “I know what the fuck this is about and I’m already regretting fucking calling that bitch.”     

            Another slap. “You want beef, brother?” K-P snarled.

            “Over your daughter?” Mortician snorted. “No. Just had a moment of weakness after I dealt with his bitch.” He thrust the baggie in Johnnie’s direction. “I fucking told Bailey not to open her fucking mouth.”

            K-P narrowed his eyes. “You aren’t even supposed to have her number.”

            “Look, motherfucker. I just wanted to chill for a minute. Stop thinking about Meggie looking like she was going into shock or some shit. Stop thinking about Kendall begging for her fucking life. No bitch around here would do, so I called Bailey.”

            “Enough!” Johnnie cut in. He glared at the club enforcer. What fucking rabbit hole had he stepped in? “Hanging out with Bailey is the quickest way to get your dick in her.”

            “Wasn’t like that,” Mortician insisted.

            “How the fuck you got her number, anyway?” Digger called. Mortician was Digger’s real brother. He was taller and leaner and had gradually cut his dreadlocks off, but he and Mortician resembled each other strongly. “You mean I might be winning my 5Gs?”

            The bet. Johnnie rubbed his eyes. That bet had been made at the very same bachelor party Johnnie had met Kendall. Mortician had been so smug in the knowledge he’d never fall for a young piece of pussy like Outlaw had done with Megs. He’d upped a one thousand dollar bet to five thousand, and they’d all bet against Mort. Smugness like that usually backfired, but Johnnie hoped to fuck it hadn’t backfired now with all this other bullshit going on. He didn’t need his club fractured over a gorgeous girl with hazel eyes, black hair, and creamy skin.

            Not now.

            “She have your number?” K-P pressed. The biker had a silver beard, bald head, and an eye patch over his left eye. On a good day, he was fucking ornery. Johnnie knew today he’d be impossible.

            “Yes,” Mortician shouted. “And I didn’t give the bitch my digits. Her and Meggie was out somewhere one day and it was my day to guard Meggie. Little Man was playing with my phone and I went to talk to some bitch I’d fucked a few weeks ago. She got my fucking number from my phone, so if you want to get up in somebody’s ass about a fucking phone number, talk to Bailey.”

            “Stop calling my girl a bitch, assfuck,” K-P ordered. He sniffed and brushed an arm over his nose, narrowing that one eye.

            “I hate it when you do that shit, Kitchen Bitch” Mortician complained, drinking from Johnnie’s bottle of whisky, then slamming it on the table.

            “What, pussy eater?” K-P growled back.

            “I wear my pussy eating badge with honor,” Mortician retorted, sucking on his weed. “So fuck off, Kitchen Bitch. And the shit I’m referring to is narrowing that one fucking eye. Shit don’t seem right to me.”

            “Fuck off, you little runt,” K-P snapped and Mortician snickered. “You’ve gone and hung out with Bailey before?”

            Mortician took another drag. “No. I’ve talked to her on the phone a couple times, K-P.” He shrugged. “She not for me, man. I’m not going to touch her. I’d forgotten all about her until I saw her three months ago.”

            “Liar,” Digger called around a cough.

            Mortician flipped his brother the bird. “I called her on my way from the shed to tell her I wanted to see her. Maybe, watch a movie.”

            “I don’t think Bailey watch pornos, Mort,” Val supplied, scratching his chin.

            K-P puffed up his chest. “My girl’s favorite movie is The Princess and the Frog.”

            Silence fell at that announcement, spoken with such certainty. How the fuck could they respond to such cluelessness?

            “You one dumb motherfucker, you know that, Kitchen Bitch?” Mortician responded.

            K-P growled, but Mortician held up his hands and shrugged.

            “No offense, brother,” he offered, “but you living in a fucking dream world. I admit I made a mistake calling her because the way I’m feeling right now…I probably would’ve ended up in bed with her.”

            “That’s never going to happen,” K-P said. “You lucky she called me to tell me you were coming to hang out with her and I had nothing to say about it.”

            Johnnie’s internal wince matched Mortician’s visible one.

            “I ever find out you fucked her and you either walk around dickless or married. And I’m betting I’d go for dickless because you like too many different pussies to marry my little girl. That’d break her heart.”

            Mortician shrugged, back in control again, but Johnnie knew they might have a serious problem facing them. If the brother had called Bailey because he was feeling out of sorts…No, they had other things to consider now and would handle that when, and if, the time came.

            Another hit on his bud, then he cleared his throat. “If you fucks are finished with the saga of the Biker and the Beauty, we have a situation.” He crooked his finger at Stretch, who’d stood up, silent, listening to the interchange. But that was Stretch. On a good day, he was a quiet man.

He pinched out his roll and pocketed it. “Put your shit away, Mort. I need Digger over here.”

            Once Mortician complied and Digger got close, Johnnie rubbed his jaw and considered Stretch, then said, “Earlier, when Meggie was being attacked, our boy here was having his dick sucked.”

            Just as he expected, more silence came into the room and each man looked from one to the other before they all zeroed in on Stretch. He hung his head.

            “Fuck, man,” Mortician said with a sigh. “We don’t need this. The Dwellers had enough trouble when Big Joe brought me and Digger in.”

            Another story for another day.

            “You fuck bitches,” Digger said slowly. “We done trains together with them in my room, so I’ve seen you fuck them with my own two eyes.”

            Stretch swallowed and glanced between them. He looked scared and ashamed.

            Val leaned on the counter and folded his arms. “You fucked up because you left Meggie unprotected. And, let me tell you, I’d give my life to protect her. We feel that way about her down to a man.”

            “I would die for her—“ Stretch began.

            Johnnie held up his hand. “Save it. But I think I know what happened.” He tapped his hands on the bar. “You have a boyfriend, don’t you?”

            “John Boy—“

            “Yes or no,” Johnnie demanded.

            He nodded with slow reluctance.

            “And you thought this would be a good time to get with him. Everybody distracted inside at my party.”

            Another slow, reluctant nod.

            “He know how you fuck all these different bitches?” Mortician asked.

            “Yes,” he admitted so low he was barely heard. “He knows I need to be with girls sometimes.”

            “You bullshitting about that or you serious?” Digger questioned, studying him.

            “I-I’m serious,” he admitted. “Y’all gonna kill me for this?”

            Val scratched the back of his neck. “We live free, Stretch. We ride. We fuck. We party. We set our own rules. I might not agree with who the fuck you fuck.” He shrugged. “But I don’t agree with some of the bitches these motherfuckers fuck.”

            “Stretch,” Johnnie began, choosing his words carefully. “We’re going to have to explain the situation to Outlaw. Depending on Megan’s and the baby’s conditions will depend on how open he is to the explanation. We at the Death Dwellers believe in the right to choose your lifestyle.” He rubbed his chin, thoughtful. “Whether we agree or not. I get to make the choices on the shit I want to do and we believe everyone should have that same freedom.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I have to do it or agree with it.”

            Stretch blinked. “For real?”

            K-P nodded. “You should’ve been honest to begin with, you stupid motherfucker, and Meggie wouldn’t be in a hospital. Your man could’ve been sucking your dick—“ He frowned and grimaced at the words. Everyone else kept their faces carefully blank. “Let me reword that. You could’ve been with—“ Redness crept into his face and he gestured with his hands—

            “Shut the fuck up, Kitchen Bitch,” Mortician said with laughter. “What assfuck saying is we suggest you keep this shit under wraps. And we understand why you wouldn’t tell us. That’s some mindfucky shit to process. But you do whatever the fuck you want with your dick. If we would’ve known, you could’ve been getting your groove on when we wasn’t having functions. Then, you wouldn’t have had to sneak a dick suck and Meggie wouldn’t got hurt.”

            “Yeah, and this fucking runt wouldn’t have called my little girl,” K-P growled.

            Mortician flipped K-P off. “Go fuck yourself, Kitchen Bitch.” He nodded to Stretch. “Go to your room, brother. Wait for fucking Outlaw.”

            “You really are okay with…with me?”

            Val tossed a wet bar towel to him. “You look horrific with that fucking dried blood on your fucking face and that bruised, fucked-up, swollen nose. I think the shit is broken.”

            “As to us being okay,” Digger called, rocking Little Man back and forth when he opened his eyes and started to whine. “Not like we can change you. When you joined our club and you saw me and my brother, you should’ve known who we were. It’s what’s in your heart that count to the Dwellers. Your loyalty. When we say we family, we mean that shit.”

            “Mommie,” Little Man said around a sniffle.

            Johnnie reached for the child. “Jo-Bo has you.”

            “Anyway, Stretch, we just a cold ass club like that,” Mortician said with a smile. “Johnnie, don’t you think you need to go see about that redheaded bitch?”

            Yes, he did, but too many conflicting feelings ran through him in her presence. He didn’t want to feel any attraction to her. But he did. She’d been so yielding and soft, and she’d been the only one who’d caught his interest since he’d made his play for Megs—and lost her to his cousin.

            Ironic Kendall would be the bitch to hurt Megan. Or related to the bitch who hurt Megs. Unfortunately, he knew how Mortician was feeling and understood why the man had been such an idiot and called Bailey to hang out with her.

            Hang out, huh? The only thing that would’ve been hanging out was Mort’s dick as he put it in Bailey.

            But they needed comfort, escape. Release. And Johnnie absolutely abhorred the fact that he was letting his dick dictate to him and was hoping Kendall was telling the truth. If only to give him the go ahead to fuck her senseless and pretend Megs was warm in her bed with her husband and sons—the one she’d already given birth to and the one she was expecting in a few weeks.

            He stood up, the images the last thought conjured disturbing Johnnie in a different way. “Where is she, Mort?”

            Mortician rolled his eyes. “In your fucking Navigator. Where you told me to put her, John Boy.” He dug in his cut and pulled out a piece of paper. “Her sister’s address, cell phone number, work number and email address is on one side. Her information is on the other side.”

            “You checked her Jeep?”

            “Yeah. Everything I found in it belongs to a Kayla Miller. Not one sign of anything belonging to a Kendall.”

            Johnnie stared at the paper in his hand.

            “But John Boy. She got too much shit to be pulling a twin out her ass. I think she telling the truth.”

            Johnnie did, too, and that pissed him off even more. Maybe, another sister could be verified, but not Kendall’s honesty with her reasons for being there. She’d said herself she’d wanted to seduce Outlaw to get back at Megan. She’d told him and Mortician she’d fuck both of them if she needed to.

            He turned to the door. “I’m headed to Long Beach.”

            He just hoped like hell his dick listened to his brain, and not the other way around.

TO BE CONTINUED TOMORROW

Dirty Boy is on AMAZON and KU

“May I help you?” she asked.

He lifted a brow. Her question should’ve irked him. She lounged in his father’s house, as if she belonged there. But the light sound of her voice brought wicked images to his mind.

“What type of help are you offering?”

A blush crept into her cheeks, yet she grinned. Mischief lit her eyes. Her stunning face would work as well on-camera as her perfect body.

She held out her hand. “I’m Story. Babs’ daughter.”

Fuck! This girl wasn’t a servant’s daughter, taking advantage of his father’s generosity and liberalism. She was his stepsister.

Believing her mother to be an opportunist, he wanted to resent her. For some reason, he walked forward and took her hand into his. “Max,” he introduced.

“Max,” she breathed, her friendliness turning wary. “Winston’s son?”

His reputation preceded him.

“The porn star,” she giggled out nervously.

His career wasn’t a secret, but it shocked him that she brought it up. Most people refused to admit they liked porn.

He nodded, enjoying the blush creeping over her entire body. “The same.”

“Richard Head.”

She was still giggling. He waited for his annoyance at the grating sound. It didn’t come. Once again, he nodded.

“Or is it Dick Head?” she asked around peals of laughter that drew a chuckle from him.

“Have you watched me?”

That shut her up. She snapped her mouth shut and offered him and under-eyed look. “Maybe,” she responded in a sing-song tone.

                                           


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Chapter 2 - Misunderstood - Original Version

 2

            Johnnie followed behind Christopher. Now that the cake had been cut people were branching off into groups to play pool, shoot darts, and just drink. A lot of kids—make that babies—were present, so Christopher had gone to the boardroom so they could finalize plans while him and Johnnie were overseas. Megan announced she was going to their house, a five minute walk from the clubhouse through the stand of trees. After she left, Johnnie, Val, Mortician, and Digger followed behind their Prez. Stretch was outside on guard duty and K-P was seeing to Dinah, Megan’s mother.

How many minutes had passed before Stretch came running in, screaming Megan was being attacked by some woman? Now, Johnnie was seeing the results of that attack, hearing the absolute fury and horror in his cousin’s voice.

“Megan, baby!”

She shuddered and moved her mouth. “H-hurts!”

            Christopher swallowed and turned his burning gaze to Johnnie, who was already dialing ‘911’.

            She closed her eyes, pale.

            “Open your fuckin’ eyes, Megan,” Christopher yelled. “You hear me? Stay with me.”

Her chest rose and fell, blood spreading on her pants.

“We’re gonna get you to a hospital,” Christopher went on. He kissed her forehead. “You gotta keep your eyes open, Megan.” His words croaked out and Johnnie swore tears hoarsened his cousin’s voice.

Not surprising since he felt like crying himself. He knew whatever had happened between him and Megan was history, but he’d always have a special place in his heart for her that no one could ever reach. Watching her bloom in pregnancy aroused and fascinated him, and he’d jerked off more than a few times over the past months with visions of her and memories of how she’d felt in his arms. Sometimes, the Bobs, Club Ass, and random whores didn’t interest him. He just wanted to be alone with thoughts of Megs, imagining she carried his son—

Johnnie frowned. “Where’s Little Man?”

            Christopher paused in whatever he’d been about to tell Megan and raised his head. It seemed to just dawn on him his son wasn’t around. But, as much as his cousin loved his son, nothing and no one came before Megan.

            Megan moaned and gripped Christopher’s arms, twisting and attempting to sit up.

“Shhh,” Christopher soothed. “Nothin’ gonna happen to you or our boy, Megan. I swear. But you gotta keep the fuck still. You bleedin’ like a motherfucker. Ain’t no fuckin’ way you goin’ nowhere but the hospital.” He nodded to Johnnie. “John Boy—“

            A baby’s scream reached him and Johnnie turned. Stretch jogged toward him, clutching Little Man to his chest. He walked to him since Christopher’s arms were full and handed him Little Man.

            “We got her, John Boy,” Stretch panted. “The bitch who was trying to take him.”

            Johnnie took the little boy and rubbed his back, not pointing out Little Man had been injured, too. He talked in low tones to Christopher Joseph Foy Caldwell, named for his father and grandfather, and took in his sweet baby smell. Johnnie wished he saw something for Megan in the child, but he looked as if Christopher’s seed had been manufactured in the lab in order to clone himself.

            Johnnie wondered if Megs’s had had a son for him, if he would’ve looked like him or if the child would have something for Megan.

            Christopher got to his feet, clutching his wife, who clung to his lapels. Pain etched her brow.

Johnnie tensed when he saw her trembling and twitching in his cousin’s arms, the last of her color draining from her face.

“I gotta get Megan some care.” Christopher swept Stretch with a cold look. “Get the fuck back in the club and don’t go a fuckin’ step ‘til I get my hands on you. It was your responsibility to make sure everything was safe.  Not only wasn’t it safe, my boy was almost took, and the baby in her belly seem to be comin’ out.” He focused on Johnnie. “Get rid of the rest of the fucks inside.” Johnnie hadn’t realized the others had gotten there until Christopher spoke to them. You, Digger, get CJ inside and don’t let my son outta your fuckin’ site. Mortician, go take care of the bitch.”

He started down the pathway as a tall, disheveled woman with the most luxuriant head of red hair Johnnie had ever seen was hustled into the circle created by everyone—the same tall, curvy redhead who’d been inside at his party. The same bitch he’d fucked into oblivion a year ago. Red splotches marred her creamy skin and tears filled her big, brown eyes. He glanced in Christopher’s direction, but he didn’t see a shred of recognition on his cousin’s face. Worry for Megs consumed the man and no other woman mattered. This woman had attempted to seduce Christopher months ago.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” the redhead chanted.

“You a fuckin’ lyin’ bitch,” Christopher snarled, his cold green eyes promising retribution. “You ain’t sorry about hurtin’ my girl or tryin’ to take my boy. You fuckin’ sorry you was caught. Take the fuck care of her.” He nodded to Mortician, giving him the go ahead to do what he did best—cause pain and then death—then walked away with Megan cradled in his arms.

            In silence, Digger took Little Man. “Stretch, get the fuck back to the club,” he growled. He looked shaken. As shaken as the rest of them. They all adored Megs.

            Mortician took a step toward the tall beauty. He narrowed his eyes at her and his eyes widened. “Fuck, wasn’t you the bitch who was pussy grinding Outlaw at the bachelor party?”

            “Please!” she cried, holding out her hands in supplication. “Please, don’t hurt me. Please. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…It wasn’t me who did this…I thought you all didn’t hurt women!”

            “Shut up!” Johnnie snapped. He couldn’t believe he’d fucked a woman who’d hurt any pregnant woman. Not to mention his Megs. To Johnnie that was unpardonable and unforgivable. “Lying bitch. You were caught with CJ. If it wasn’t you who attacked Megs and stole her son, who the fuck was it?”

“My sister,” she sobbed.

Johnnie balled his hands to keep from choking her, hating her a little more because he noticed her distress and remembered her softness when her body had been wrapped around his.

 “I swear,” she continued, near hysteria. “It wasn’t me. It was my twin.”

Of all the fucking bullshit. A twin? And he’d pledged a vow of celibacy. “My fucking ass. No one saw anyone but you,” he snarled.

”Please,” she begged, reaching for him. “I’m…I know it doesn’t sound plausible. But it’s true! I swear. God, I’m not insane. I’d never attack her on club property.”

Johnnie narrowed his eyes and caught her shoulders, shaking her. “What the fuck does that mean? You’d attack her somewhere else?”

“No!” she screeched. “Kayla—“

“Shut the fuck up,” he ordered, turning to face Mortician. “Take her to the shed. Get her ready for transport. Live body transport.” He’d interrogate her himself. Yes, the other brothers loved Megan but they didn’t come close to feeling about her the way Johnnie felt about her. He would do this bitch himself.

Mortician reached for her, but she dodged him, balling her fist and swinging, catching the man’s jaw. He growled, grabbing her hands when she swung again, cursing when she kneed him in the balls. He jerked her arm and twisted it behind her, imprisoning her against his chest by wrapping one arm around her chest and the other around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides. “You fucking through, cunt?” he puffed.

In response, she let out an ear-splitting scream.

“Shut up!” Johnnie gritted, wishing he had a handkerchief to stuff in her mouth. “What the fuck good do you think screaming will do? You’re on hostile territory.”

“Yeah, and whether you live or die rest with the two of us,” Mortician added, shaking her.

“So far, it’s not looking too good from my vantage point,” Johnnie said dryly.

Tears slipped down her cheeks and her chin wobbled. “I can prove it. Please. My name is Kendall. My sister is Kayla. We’re twins. I swear.”

“Then where the fuck is she?” Johnnie snapped, ignoring the little voice of reason that told him her story was plausible.

Plausible? Plausible his dick. After what happened to Megan, he didn’t give a fuck if ten of her ran around. She was still on the grounds, which made her an accomplice, if she really had a twin.

“What the fuck were you doing here?” he asked. “If your twin is the bitch we need.”

“I was here to stop her. I knew this was a bad idea.”

“Right. Because attacking Megs on club property wouldn’t work.”

She sagged against Mortician, her gaze pleading, willing Johnnie to believe her. Tears clung to her thick lashes adding a vulnerability he hated. He couldn’t bear to look at her. She was nothing but a whore and a would-be killer. Last February, she’d been intending to fuck Christopher, but hadn’t had one problem with fucking him instead.

He eyed her with distaste and pulled out a smoke. He needed something to calm himself.

“You doing this bitch?” Mortician asked, his hold easing up a fraction now that she seemed exhausted. “Outlaw want her grounded. I can understand you wanting to personally do it. But I’m not preparing a live transport if she won’t end up as a dead body.”

Johnnie puffed on his cigarette. The only time any of them had ever harmed a woman was when Outlaw had had to get rid of a threat to Megan. Now, Johnnie wasn’t sure if Outlaw hadn’t blown this bitch away himself because he hadn’t wanted to do it in front of Megan or he’d just been too consumed with fear and worry for her.

Fuck. What was he thinking? Outlaw’s arms had been filled with Megs. He wouldn’t have put her down even for the satisfaction of blowing this bitch away.

He nodded. “I’m going to take care of her, Mortician,” he promised. Besides, if he were to let her live, he’d risk his own life as well as Mortician’s. Christopher had given orders and Johnnie understood why. He wanted blood, too.

            Kendall’s color dropped from her face and she began to shake.

            The shadows—the sadness and mistrust—in her eyes sucked him in, though. In her arms, for a few, blessed hours, he’d forgotten Megs existed. Fury surged through Johnnie and he eyed her with dislike and disgust. “I think you’re handing me a bunch of bullshit. No one hurts Megan and lives to tell about it.”

            “Megan,” she spat with bitterness. “I’m sick of Megan. I came here to stop Kayla from hurting her. But no one will listen to me! No one will believe me.” She drew in a deep breath and released it on a sob. “Maybe, Ellen was telling the truth about everything. Maybe, Kayla was right to seek vengeance against Megan. She killed my sister. She ruined her engagement to Outlaw. Stole him away and sacrificed her to save her own life.”

            Mortician shook her. “Shut the fuck up. Megan ain’t never lifted a fucking finger to hurt nobody and Outlaw ain’t never been engaged to no bitch before Megan.”

            “Liar!”

            Johnnie stepped forward and dragged her away from Mortician, holding onto his temper by a thread. She was either the stupidest bitch he’d ever met or the bravest. Surrounded by men with orders to kill her, she had the audacity to call them liars.

She shrank back at his fury. “I’m sorry!” she cried. “I didn’t do this. I swear. My sister, my twin, did it.” She gripped his shirt. “I swear. God, I swear. I was just trying to get the baby to safety when I ran.”

Johnnie shook her. “By running the fuck away with him? Bullshit,” he roared. “Listening to you spitting out how sick you were of Megan lets me know what a lying bitch you are.”

“I’m not.” She was almost hysterical. “My name is Kendall,” she repeated. “My sister’s name is Kayla. I have my ID in my car. I swear.”

            Kendall’s insides shook as the man with the dark brown skin, dreadlocks tied back, diamond eye stud, and skull ring flanked her right side, while the tall, blond man intended remained at her left. They were escorting her to her car. Not that it mattered. She was sure they intended to kill her. Especially the blond man. Johnnie.

As the moments ticked by and she searched for her vehicle, she grew more and more frantic. Her Mazda was gone. Gone. And with a sinking heart, she suspected Kayla had taken Kendall’s car to escape, writing Kendall’s death sentence with her actions. 

“Well?”

Johnnie’s voice rumbled through her and she spotted what she’d been looking for. Her sister’s Jeep. Weak, she sagged against a vehicle, the urge to retch almost overwhelming her. Kayla’s ID would be in there, not hers.

            “Who the fuck are you working for?”

            “N-no one,” she said with a gulp. “I was just here to..to...” Stop one sister from avenging the other.

            “I don’t give a fuck actually,” he barked and she wished he’d use the low baritone he’d had as he’d made love to her. “Spitting out lies about Megs isn’t going to end well for you.”

            Kendall stiffened at the way he said Megan’s name with such tenderness. He sounded as if he carried a torch for the girl. Another nail in Kendall’s coffin. If he wanted her for himself, he would want to avenge her attack. The realization that Kayla had left her to face the consequences on her own rivaled the pain Kendall experienced after so many years of forcing her food up to keep her weight down.

            “Found your car yet?”

            He glanced at the Jeep, then lifted a brow at her. She prayed he didn’t remember her car. It had been dark when he’d walked her out.

            She licked her lips. The way he regarded her almost made her believe he had a shred of decency in him, as if he cared about other people. About her. But no one ever had and no one ever would. She was…She didn’t want to think about what she was, how Ellen’s mean barbs and her mother’s wild schemes had shaped her entire life. But she’d risen above the way Ellen called her an overgrown giraffe, made her ashamed of her own body. She’d lost the ability to care about what she knew Kayla helped their mother do. Millers were strong. They got what they wanted by any means possible. Schemes. Lies. Manipulations. Whatever and whoever they needed to be to get what they wanted, they became.

            “Please. My sister took my car.”

            Mortician folded his muscular arms, his wide chest only covered by the vest with the word Enforcer etched on the right side and an assortment of other patches. “So your “sister” left you holding the bag after you risked your life because of what again?”

Kendall’s temper flared. This entire situation was a clusterfuck. Her old insecurities flared up. The anger and rage. The grief. Her hatred of everything and everyone. “Megan Caldwell had our sister, Ellen, killed to save her own life!”

            Johnnie shook her so hard her teeth rattled. His imagined tenderness and concern evaporated into blazing anger. “That’s a fucking lie. Ellen, if it’s the bitch who used to throw pussy around here, didn’t have goddamn sisters.”

            Kendall raised her chin, the black fury in his features pulling up her fear. She tried to stiffen her resolve, remind herself that no one and nothing frightened her. She was a master manipulator and, before it was over, she’d find a way to manipulate and control this beautiful, angry man who clutched her so firmly.

            Don’t do this, Kendall. Dial it back. Her conscience begged her to reason this through. Megan Caldwell wasn’t responsible for Kendall’s fucked up upbringing and splintered family ties. Ellen had been hard and unscrupulous and Kayla was even worse. Kendall had been their target too many times to count, which was why she’d wanted to hear Megan’s side of the story.

            Kendall might’ve fucked to survive but she had a small bit of morality that didn’t allow her to be able to take a life without all the facts.

            Sunlight bounced off Johnnie’s blond hair and Kendall blinked. His eyes studied her, his gaze flickering over her hair, her eyes, her nose. Her mouth. She swallowed, the silver in his beautiful eyes swallowing up the gray and leaving behind a burning intensity that melted Kendall’s insides. Looking at this man, smelling his cologne, hardened her nipples and wet her panties.

            “Where’s your car, Kendall?” he asked, his cold tone dousing the flames of her arousal.

            “Kayla took it,” she whispered, hoarse with lingering tears.

            Johnnie and Mortician faced her, standing side-by-side. For once in her life, she felt dainty. She was five ten and, yet, they were both taller than her with Johnnie being a couple inches taller than Mortician.

            “Let me talk to you a minute, Mort,” Johnnie said after a moment.

            They stepped away from her, knowing she wouldn’t run. She had nowhere to go, no one who’d help her. There were more men outside now and a couple carried shotguns, staring in her direction. They’d blow her away without hesitation.

            So how had Kayla gotten away?

            “I don’t like this one fucking bit,” Mortician snapped.

            Johnnie shrugged, then sauntered back to her, stopping inches from Kendall. His hair was longer on the top than it was on the sides or in the back. He wore a leather vest, too, that said Vice President. He eyed her and she had an urge to squirm and an urge to offer to fuck him in exchange for her life. He’d made her feel. Whether he’d only believed she was a whore or not, he’d made her feel special and beautiful. But he didn’t like her. Judging by the loathing in his eyes, he hated her.

            She shrank back and sniffled.

“You have a twin?” he sneered, surprising her.  

Kendall snatched her attention back to him and he gave her a nasty smile.

“I want to see her. If you can prove, there’s another bitch like you in this world, I might let you live. That means taking you somewhere out of Outlaw’s reach until he calms down. I’d be risking my life to save yours, so one sign of bullshit from you and you’ll be sorry.”

His hand circled her throat, not squeezing, just lingering, his fingertips warm against her skin. He pressed his body into hers and she felt every hard plane of him.

 “I don’t know what the fuck Ellen told you about Megan but whatever it was, it was nothing but lies. Ellen—“ He spat her sister’s name and the tone cut through Kendall— “threw more pussy around than a whore on a holiday. Yes, Outlaw fucked her, but they were part of a threesome. Ellen knew fucking well she wasn’t anything more to Outlaw than pussy.”

            Her heart rate sped up and more fear seeped into her.

            “I don’t give a damn what Ellen told you. Ellen lied. The only thing Megs ever did for your sister was try and get along with her. She might not have liked it, but as long as Ellen didn’t give Megs shit, Megs tolerated her.”

            Kendall shook her head. Did he know what he was saying? Yes, her sister was hard and harsh and had had a shitty childhood, but she hadn’t lie to Kendall and Kayla about her relationship with Outlaw.  Not when she and Kayla had had to console Ellen on so many nights once Christmas had come and gone, and Outlaw had taken Megan to meet his mother in Ellen’s place.

            “If we can’t find another you, you’re dead.”

            Kendall sagged against Johnnie and sobbed. Instead of offering her the comfort of his arms, he stood tense and straight. But she wanted someone to understand her crazed grief over Ellen and her sense of betrayal over Kayla’s actions today. Ellen hadn’t even had an open casket because most of her head had been shot away. And their mother. God, their mother.

            For so many years, Kendall had ignored Ellen’s existence. After forgiving the effects of Ellen’s verbal abuse, her older sister had been an embarrassment to her. Kendall hadn’t wanted Kayla tainting her either, but she’d remained in contact with her twin. Somehow, she just hadn’t been able to cut all ties.

Kendall had worked hard to get scholarships and present to the world the person she’d wanted to be. Her academic smarts came naturally to her but not the stylish clothes. Not her pretty car and nice apartment. The men Kendall involved herself with were older, wealthy, sophisticated and caring. They spoiled her and kept her where she wanted to be.

            Then, Ellen had come over for Christmas dinner at their mother’s, and, sobbed out the entire sad story of what Ellen had been going through. Kendall’s heart broke for her big sister and the guilt ate at her. She and Kayla had vowed to support their sister and help her through this by any means possible.

A couple weeks ago, Kayla had come to Kendall and told her about a birthday party going on today and the woman Ellen named as being the basis for most of her misery was serving as hostess. Kayla had seen it as the perfect opportunity to avenge both Ellen and their mother, Marie.

            Kendall had thought it was a recipe for disaster, so she’d come too, having every intention to get Megan alone to talk to her. But the woman was never alone. Her husband shadowed her every move. And if it wasn’t her husband, it was an older woman. Or Johnnie. Or…whoever. So she’d done the next thing she could and went outside to wait for Kayla.

            “Are you through?”

            Johnnie’s cold voice snapped Kendall out of her revelry and she jerked away. His look chilled her. She sniffled.

            “What are you going to do?” she whispered.

            He shrugged. “That depends on you.”

            “M-me?”

            “If you’ve told the truth, I’ll take you somewhere until you find your sister and we can get our hands on her. If you’re telling the truth, I can talk to Megs and have her appeal to Outlaw on your behalf.”

            Kendall swayed. She had to find a way to get out of this. Afterwards, she’d murder Kayla herself, but no way would she hand over her sister. She wanted to scream in frustration. Kayla should’ve listened. And, my God, Kayla had been so vicious and brutal in her attack. Kendall shivered just thinking about it.

“Megs better survive this,” he continued. “Because if she doesn’t, your life will be as worthless as your fucking twin’s.”

“Why do you call her Megs?”

            Surprise swept away some of his cold anger at her completely irrelevant question. A muscle worked in his jaw. “Since I met her, she’s been Megs to me and she always will be.”

            “You have feelings for her.”

            “Megan is Outlaw’s wife. He loves her mind, body, and soul, and she loves him just as fiercely. The only thing I want for both of them is their happiness. And if Megs has really lost her baby because of you, neither of them will be too happy.”

“Fuck,” Mortician put in, “none of us will be happy.”

 Johnnie nodded in agreement and the wind fluttered through his hair. “You hurt her and you tried to steal her son. I’d die for her and I’d kill for her.”

            Dejected at his answer, Kendall’s shoulders slumped. Had he fucked the oh-so-wonderful Megs? Had Megan Caldwell experienced some of what Kendall had felt in the arms of the only man who’d given her a sense of protection? She didn’t like the thought of that and admitted seeing the real love everyone felt for the girl sent horrible jealousy through Kendall. Not to mention she couldn’t have been over five feet two inches and was just gorgeous.

“And if I don’t cooperate?” Her head pounded. She sounded like a mad woman, vacillating between anger and fear, bitterness and reason. “If you find out I’m telling the truth about Kayla and I don’t tell you where you might be able to find her?”

            “Then you’re on your own.”

            Kendall licked her lips. “Wh-what do I have to do in return for your protection?”

            Mortician snorted and the two men exchanged glances.

            He stared at her a moment and heat flashed in her veins at the slow smile curving his mouth. Wickedness sparkled in his eyes. “You want to fuck?” he asked lazily.

            Her breath caught and her pulse raced at being in his arms again. She nodded. She couldn’t remember a time in her life when she hadn’t had sex in exchange for something. She didn’t do one night stands and she didn’t offer services in exchange for money. She just attached herself to men who were in the position to give her things. Sugar Daddies. Having sex with this gorgeous man in return for his protection would be easy.

            Mortician’s snicker made her heart sank and he folded his arms.

            “Who are you offering to fuck, Kendall? Me?” He nodded to Mortician. “Mort? Or both of us?”

            She didn’t want anyone to ruin how she’d felt with Johnnie and having someone else in bed with them would take away her fantasy that she meant something to him. She knew it was a lie. But he had the ability to make her believe she was the most important woman in the world and the only one for him.

            But she wanted to live and if she had to fuck both of them to save her life, she would. Mortician was beautiful himself, so at least that was something. Better than her current, dried-up, nearly impotent lover.

            “Well, girl?” Mortician asked, his dark eyes all-knowing.

            She swallowed. If she wanted them to believe her, she had to be honest with everything. But, Jesus, she was so afraid. Honesty had always come back to haunt her and, now, her life hung in the balance. “If…if I h-have to sleep with both of you,” she managed. To her horror, more tears rushed to her eyes. “But…but I was talking about Johnnie.”

            They fell silent, taking their time about lighting cigarettes and releasing the smoke once they’d taken a drag. She coughed. It didn’t matter because they kept smoking and watching her, their silence unnerving.

            “What makes you think I want to fuck you?” Johnnie asked after a moment.

            From his expression, Kendall knew it didn’t matter to him one way or the other. She couldn’t even be sure if they’d let her live once she slept with them.

            He stepped closer, big and intimidating, in her personal space. It took everything in her to stand her ground.

            “You’re a cold-blooded, fucking slut. Ready to fuck whichever brother you need to. When Outlaw refused to fuck you, you let me do it. If I refused to fuck you now, you’d let Mort do it.” He tipped her chin up again. “Now, I’m asking you again. Who the fuck are you working for? Did someone send you the night of Outlaw’s bachelor party?”

            He had her pegged wrong. She wanted to shout that to him, but his opinion of her had already been formed and she couldn’t change it.

            “No one sent me,” she repeated again as she had earlier. But added another truth. “I came to seduce Outlaw. It was going to be our retribution for Ellen and our mom. I failed, so Kayla has been looking for an opportunity to strike ever since.”

            Anger and tension radiated from Johnnie’s body. He took another drag and surprised her yet again when he turned away from her to release the smoke. As close as he was, he could’ve blown it right into her face.

            The gesture cramped her belly and she was glad when Mortician stepped beside Johnnie.

            “Kendall, right?” he asked in a hard voice.

            She nodded.

            “Okay, Kendall.” He paused to suck on his cigarette and turned away from her just like Johnnie had. “This here’s the fucking deal. We don’t want innocent fucking blood on our hands, but make no mistake we don’t like your fucking ass. As to the issue of you and me fucking—“ He smirked at Johnnie, who scowled in return—“I think I’m better off letting John Boy tap that.”

            “And I might be better off kicking your fucking ass,” Johnnie growled, holding the cigarette between his long, thick fingers and gesturing to Mortician. “Take her the fuck away and get her ready for transport.”

            Mortician laughed, then grabbed her arm and started to turn her around.

            She dug the heels of her sneakers into the gravel. “Please? What are you going to do to me?”

            Johnnie stared at her, seeming to be waging a debate whether or not he’d explain things to her or let her stew in all types of awful imaginings. “He’s going to bring you to a shed. Get addresses and telephone numbers from you.” He flicked his cigarette aside and gave her a hard look. “Might risk it and have your ID ran by our guys. See what we can find. All depends on whether or not my dick gets hard for you or not.” His insulting perusal sent waves of anger through her. But it also cut her like a sharp knife. He thought her little more than garbage. “If I can fuck you, I’ll bring you to my house. Tie you up…you’ll be my prisoner, after all…and fuck you some more.”

            “Man, John Boy, no way you calling in her ID. Outlaw will know we didn’t ground her and he’ll make us dig our own fucking graves.”

            “You’re right, brother.” White teeth flashed with his feral smile. “We’re a family,” he explained in conversational tones. “I’d risk my own ass. Refuse to risk Mort, though. Take her. Do whatever the fuck you want to her, then bound and gag her and throw her in my Navigator. I’ll be in the clubhouse until you’re done.”

            He stalked away, not giving Kendall a backward glance.