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Authors: Kathryn Kelly
Misunderstood
By Kathryn Kelly
Edited by Crystal Cuffley
Cover by Crystal Cuffley
Copyright © 2014 by Kathryn Kelly
Copyright © 2014 Cover Art by Crystal Cuffley
All rights reserved. This e-book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Manufactured in the United States of America
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogue in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
BLURB
John Donovan has been left in charge of the Death Dwellers' MC while the club president is on his honeymoon. With six days left till Outlaw's return and smooth sailing so far, complications bubble up. As the clock ticks, he's determined to bring everything under control.
Kendall Miller, an attorney and the ex-girlfriend of another MC President, is in deep trouble. When her little sister is taken by her ex, she needs to report to a man who is frantic for information on the highest ranking members of Johnnie's club. When she suddenly shows up at the clubhouse and arouses the suspicions of a very handsome blond biker, she finds herself being taken as his prisoner.
Evil is all around them. To save herself and her sister, Kendall has to rely on the man she betrayed. To save his club, Johnnie has to trust Kendall's story. Before it's too late. Because lives will be lost and hearts will be broken.
WARNING: This isn’t an easy or light read. Please be advised. The way to Johnnie’s and Kendall’s resolution involves death, violence, destruction, a sexual assault scene and suicide.
DEDICATION
I can’t begin to express how touched I am at all the well wishes, constructive criticism, helpful advice, and lovely emails and IMs I’ve received since the release of Misled. I
love
interacting with everyone. When I’m a bundle of nerves, you all make it worthwhile. This one’s for
all
of you who waited for Johnnie’s book.
Misunderstood is dedicated to my mom. Your conversations are priceless. You’re my role model and my rock.
Misunderstood is also dedicated to Shannon Burdsall, Melanie Cooper, Geri Anne Ejosa, Emily Smith, Nanee Magee, Dawn Griego, and Tamara McDonald for pulling me off the ledge several times over the course of writing the book, answering all my questions, and giving me invaluable encouragement.
Mistress Dibs…Crystal Cuffley…you’re a whip cracking mama, I swear, girl. Thank you for being right there no matter the time of day. I dedicate Misunderstood to you and your artistic eye that creates beautiful covers.
Misunderstood is dedicated to Wanda Polk and her battalion of Outlaw fans, Mavis Ifegwu for
always, always
laughing, Tina Tillman for pushing me to finish the next book because of her Outlaw-withdrawals, and Zoey Megahey for the humorous IMs. I know all about your little sisters, Zoey. Since I don’t want to hurt their feelings, I’m dedicating Misunderstood to Kate and Alegra.
A SPECIAL dedication to Shannon Burdsall and Zoey Megahey for supplying me with hot guy photos on the regular. Keep them coming!
If I’ve forgotten to mention anyone personally, well, my brain can only remember so much, so, please don’t take offense. Just know, I appreciate each and every one of you.
BOOKS BY KATHRYN KELLY
Misled..................December 2013
Misappropriate...February 2014
Misunderstood…April 2014
Misbehavior…….Late Summer 2014
Misguided……….Early 2015
Misconduct……...Spring 2015
Misfit…………….TBA
I’ve looked around and envied others the solid ground on which they grew up. Because, I know, as with all shaky foundations, eventually the walls come tumbling down and secrets are brought to light. I feel the tick-tock of the clock, the sands of time slipping away granule by granule. Miniscule time bombs awaiting detonation. Finally, the day I’ve feared arrives. The explosions rocks our world.
Now, everyone will discover I’m not the perfect, easy-going man I project myself to be. They will see that evil lurks from within—my family and my heart.
Because my family is different.
We are founded and forged in heartache and betrayal.
Unless I intercede, so will we be destroyed by the same.
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.
