A Very Christopher Christmas (A Death Dwellers MC Novella) (45 page)

My Megan,
 

You roared into my life at full throttle and I’ll never forget the evenin I first gazed into your big, blue eyes. My world stopped in that moment. I didn’t realize you would become by everythin. The air I need to breathe and the angel who gives me a soul.
 

You accept me for who I am. Flaws and all. You believe in me even when I have a hard time believin in myself. You trust me. Your smile makes me believe I can conquer the world. You make me laugh. You make me think. You make me hot. You make me angry.
 

You make me
feel.
 

You and me, we have each other’s backs. No matter how many times we fall, we lift each other up. My heart, my soul, my life rests in the palms of your hands. No matter what you face, I have you, baby. I’ll be your strength. Your rock. Your man.
 

Your Outlaw.
 

In your arms and in your body, you carry the best of me. The children you give to me are my pride and joy and I’m in awe that we’ve created somethin so perfect that’s a piece of me. You’ve given me that. You’re a wonderful mother, a sexy wife, and a great friend.
 

I’m not a hearts and roses type of man, Megan. I’m hard and rough, rude and crude. This letter took hours to do because I wanted to give my girl somethin she deserves, not what I know and what I’m used to.
 

But, for you, I’m willin to compromise and look up the correct spellins and grammar to send you a letter once a year, on our anniversary, the day I became the luckiest man in the world and put my ring on your finger.
 

I love you.
 

Christopher
 

p.s. I’m fuckin Outlaw, too. You said that shit yourself and he gotta send you a letter to, baby. Anyway, this was my original letter ‘til the boys told me you might chain up The Promised Land again. Can’t have that shit. Ever a-fuckin-gain.
 

Megan,
 

You have the best pussy in the world. I love that you now a freaky little nympho. I love fuckin you and lovin you and havin you in my life. I’m the luckiest motherfucker alive to call you mine.
 

I love the fuck outta you, baby.
 

Outlaw
 

MISUNDERSTOOD
 

Book 2 – Death Dwellers MC Series
 

Johnnie has to run the Death Dwellers MC in the absence of the club president. Everything's smooth sailing so far until a few days before Outlaw's scheduled arrival. Kendall Miller walks into the club, bringing trouble, lies, and secrets that will have life-altering consequences for him.
 

A sound awakened Kendall Miller and she sat up, blinking, before stretching her arms above her head. A blond man stood in the center of the room, his silver-gray gaze never leaving her as he withdrew a cigarette from his cut and lit it.
 

She studied the burning tip, the flame consuming the paper and tobacco, before it dwindled down to a fiery glow. Smoke plumed into the air and Kendall stared at the evaporating curlicues, transfixed at the tangible metaphor of what her life had become. Despair washed through her and everything rushed back. Her failure tonight made her ache inside and undermined the sliver of peace she’d somehow acquired a little while ago, when she’d first stepped into this room.
 

She didn’t want to think of the consequences if she didn’t get to the bed of the Death Dwellers’ president.  
 

Hugging her arms around her waist, she thought of another MC leader. Her ex-lover. Days ago, she’d gotten over the pain of his multiple betrayals, a blessed numbness consuming her. She’d thought she’d finally found a man who understood her and would protect her at any and all costs. But, no, Spoon had cheated on her, lied to her, and stolen her heart and soul—her little sister—and handed her over to
him
.
 

Kendall clasped her fingers together, biting the inside of her cheek to prevent more gut-wrenching sobs from pushing through. She
had
to get Caroline back. Their mother, Marie, doted on her. Besides, just the thought of her sixteen-year-old sister’s predicament clung to Kendall’s soul, unleashing deep desperation inside of her.
 

She’d experienced Spoon’s unsympathetic beliefs firsthand. Compared to Logan Donovan, though, her rat-fink-bastard-ex could’ve been canonized one day. Logan Donavan, a man she’d spoke to over the telephone but never met face-to-face, epitomized a monster, plain and simple. A web of nerves, unease and anxiety tangling though her, Kendall lifted her gaze to the beautiful man watching her.
 

Another chill slithered down her back, her thoughts exploding with the repercussions if she couldn’t correct her mistake. Repercussions not only for herself, whom she barely cared about anymore, but for Caroline.
 

She
had
to get her little sister back.
 

“H-hi.”
 

A brow lifted and heat rushed to Kendall’s cheeks, his lingering glance and overwhelming presence unnerving her.
 

“Hello,” he responded, his voice full of dark temptation.
 

Her hair must’ve been a mess. Considering everything else, the innocuous thought surprised her. Coiffures should’ve been the last thing on her mind. In this life or death situation, the need to have him find her attractive felt ridiculous. Before tonight, she’d never met the man and, more than likely, he’d forget her the moment she escaped him.
 

She combed her fingers through her hair, arranged the entire length over one shoulder, covering a breast.
 

He folded his arms and crossed one ankle over the other, leaning against the desk holding the stereo system.
 

His arrogant nonchalance and golden beauty enhanced her appreciation of him. Judging by his slow perusal and remembering how he’d calmed the club president a little while ago, she suspected the twinkle in his silver-gray eyes hid his fathomless depths.
 

Waiting for her, contemplating her, he displayed surprising patience. He didn’t yell. Or insult her. His all-consuming gaze burned into her and she licked her lips, the hard knot in her belly dissolving into tingles.
 

Needing to reclaim her rapidly failing senses, Kendall noted his sparse furnishings. A bed. A chest of drawers. A desk. That was about it. He swallowed the space, though, filled it with his presence.
 

She lowered her lashes, flustered. Tall and chiseled, his build screamed strength and power. His forbidding jawline and full lips were pure artistic refinement. She’d never seen a more gorgeous man. His lips curved into a devastating smile, revealing white, even teeth. Ever so slowly, the smile changed to a frown. She hadn’t uttered another word since their greetings.
 

She licked her lips, her body responding to his virility.
 

Focus, Kendall
. Focusing would be the only way to get herself in the
right
man’s bed.
 

Even before he’d snatched Caroline, Spoon hadn’t touched her in weeks. She shoved aside her humiliation at his reasons. Although
he
didn’t want her, he’d sent her to another man rather than touch her himself, as she’d offered, in exchange for her little sister.
 

The man he’d sent her to knocked her flat on her ass because he’d been furious that someone would send another woman to him knowing he had a wife.
 

Kendall wished for such loyalty.
 

The big biker straightened, his movements and withdrawal catching her attention. If he no longer wanted her, she’d be free to find the president again and complete the job she’d been sent to do.  She didn’t want the other man, though. From the moment the blond biker jerked her to her feet and placed his body in front of hers, Kendall had felt something she hadn’t in a very long time.
Protected.
 

For a few, brief minutes, her mind had been blank of her ruined world and her ravaged sister. When he’d directed her to his room, she’d obeyed without thought, fatigue consuming her. Heavy makeup covered the dark rings around her eyes, proof she hadn’t slept in days.
 

So, instead of attempting to find the president’s bedroom when she had the chance, she’d come in here. And fallen asleep.  After weeks—months—of turmoil, she’d walked into this stranger’s room, laid on his bed, and found comfort.
 

Certifiable. Selfish. Bad.
 

Kendall grimaced at Spoon’s labels. A man was out there, waiting to get photos of her and the Dwellers’ president in bed together. Her little sister, Caroline, was being held and used until Kendall delivered what had been asked of her. Going to the police was out of the question—if she wanted Caroline to survive. And, yet…
YET…
desire was pooling in her belly and tightening her core. For a stranger. The
wrong
stranger.
 

That stranger roamed around, his movements a coordination of agility and strength. He pulled out the drawers in the chest, eyed the inside, before rubbing his fingertips against every inch of the wood, then repeated the process at his desk and the headboard of his bed. Ignoring their close proximity, he went through the bewildering process all over again.
 

Unable to stop herself, she followed the path of his hand, imagining his fingertips skimming over her body. His heat surrounded her, the different smells emanating from him zinging to her head. Alcohol. Marijuana. A hint of spicy cologne. Sweat. And
him
.
 

She chewed on her bottom lip as
With Arms Wide Open
began to play and he stilled, frowning and backing away from the bed. Though he looked in her direction, Kendall doubted he actually saw her. He scrubbed a big hand over his face at certain lines and
sighed with heartfelt emotion. Toward the end of the song, his nostrils flared, the bleakness in his eyes calling to her.
 

“Are you all right?”
 

He narrowed his eyes. “Who the fuck sent you?”
 

The hairs on her nape stood at the harsh question. One, he’d asked it and, two, she’d somehow given herself away, leaving her with no good answer. She wanted to shout,
bad men,
the simplest explanation. The truth had isolated her for five, miserable days with Kendall no closer to getting Caroline back.  
 

Unless she got this right. On the other hand, this motorcycle club had gotten on Logan Donovan’s bad side, too. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been going out of his way to destroy the president.
 

Another lift of that imperious blond brow made her scramble for a credible response. She had to say
something.
She hadn’t slept enough to be at the top of her game. With the exhaustion clouding her mind and delaying her responses, she wasn’t even hovering near the bottom.
 

“Whoever sent the others. I’m not sure. I’m a freelancer and one of the other girls couldn’t make it, so my friend called me. Asked me if I wanted to take the chick’s place. And here I am.”
 

“So no one hired you to fuck Outlaw?”
 

No. Truth. Nothing as mundane as monetary compensation orchestrated this life or death, do or die, situation. “Why would someone hire me for that?”
 

“To fuck with his relationship with his wife.”
 

Tread with care. The biker’s brain matched his brawn. “Seems silly,” she got out in a strong voice. “She’s not here, is she? How would that interfere with their marriage?”
 

The question sounded ridiculous even to her stressed-out, overwrought mind. If she ever got married and her husband slept with another woman,
her
marriage would be interfered with, too.
 

What was Kendall thinking? This entire evening had the makings of a disaster. She’d left herself open to rape when she’d walked into the clubhouse in only a jacket, her clothes discarded in her car. When she walked in, she’d discarded her jacket on a table and headed directly for the club president, then proceeded to gyrate her naked body on him. He’d gotten an erection, but Kendall was experienced enough to know he hadn’t appreciated it. Someone, mainly
her,
could’ve gotten seriously hurt if the president had fired his gun.
 

Shoving the thought aside and determined to brazen it out until she escaped, Kendall continued.
 

“Besides, she’s a biker’s wife. I’m sure she understands infidelity and betrayal.” She spat the last word because she’d been suckered into believing different. “I was on his lap. I felt his erection. He wanted to fuck me and would have if there hadn’t been all these people here.”
 

“If you think that, then you’re a goddamn fool. He couldn’t help but get a dick stand with the way you were grinding your pussy against him. But, if he wanted you, he would’ve fucked you and not cared who was here.”
 

Not knowing how else to stop her rioting emotions or what else to say, Kendall laid back on the bed, opening her legs. Music filled the room and she touched her clit, feeling the bare lips of her pussy. The impulse to ignore her wetness, her hard nipples, almost overcame her. But she’d already made a terrible muck of things tonight and she needed…she needed a moment of peace. A smidgeon of comfort.
 

She’d blame herself later, figure
something
out. She didn’t have a law degree for nothing.