misunderstoodebook (20 page)

Fuck. If the memory of how perfectly Kendall’s long legs had wrapped around his waist and how her breasts overflowed from his hands didn’t haunt him and send blood rushing to his cock, he
would’ve
extinguished her. But she’d offered him pussy on her own. He hadn’t demanded it from her, so refusing her generosity would be an insult. Besides, he
was
risking his life by keeping her alive since he didn’t know what the fuck she was up to.

A confused combination of guilt and longing surfaced over the woman curled up on his middle seat. Megs still invaded his thoughts and his dreams. Sometimes, Johnnie wondered if he’d made love to her would he have been able to rid himself of…of whatever the fuck it was he felt for her.

At other times, he tried to understand how two completely different women like Megan and Kendall had so captivated him. Megan had been barely legal when he’d met her, hadn’t even finished high school. Kendall, on the other hand, was an attorney and closer to his age. Maybe, the connection was their fragile state? The recognition they needed someone to champion and protect them.

After Iona—the only girl his feelings had gone beyond superficial for before Megan—he’d sworn to stick to club whores and women familiar with the biker lifestyle. Between Iona’s demands and Big Joe’s shenanigans, Johnnie had turned in his patch and went nomad. Not six months later, Iona left him because he’d been so unhappy without his brothers around him. She’d been close to his age, too, in medical school, and she’d wanted normalcy. But Johnnie had
never
had normalcy.

From the time Iona walked away, Johnnie stuck with women who wouldn’t demand much. He’d been happy as fuck, too. Utilizing the business degree he’d earned, managing the club’s laboratory. Being part of the club yet far enough away to stay out of trouble. Keeping tabs on Logan and the knowledge of his existence away from Christopher.

Then Megs arrived with all her baggage and beauty. For the first time in a long time, Johnnie had been jealous of Outlaw. Truly JEALOUS. Fucking green with it. So much so that he’d made a play for her, gotten a small taste, and then pulled back.

He could’ve gotten into Megs’s panties.

Johnnie gripped the steering wheel at the thought of her panties. And her pussy. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

Megs was young and all kinds of naïve where men were concerned. And she liked him. As in sexually. Johnnie knew it. Christopher knew it. And Megan knew it.

But she
loved
Christopher. She saw the worthiness in him that only Johnnie and a few others saw, so in all good conscience Johnnie hadn’t been able to press his advantage when he’d had the opportunity. Two opportunities. The second time, the evening of Aunt Patricia’s funeral, he’d had every intention of going to Megs’s motel room and claiming her. Talking her into telling everyone the baby she carried belonged to him.

He’d thought long and hard about it, sat in the parking lot of the motel long after she’d disappeared inside when he’d dropped her off after his aunt’s funeral. The moment he’d met her had run rampant in his head. The past weeks he’d spent with her.

Johnnie had known love, though. Received it—however sick and misplaced that love had been. Accepted it when he’d been young and innocent and ignorant. And given a semblance of it to Iona. Christopher deserved no less. So, that fateful day, Johnnie had driven back to Long Beach, gotten his cut, and headed back to the MC. Once there, he’d given Christopher an ultimatum—claim Megan and their baby. Or Johnnie would.

Only Johnnie hadn’t known how hard it would be to see them together. He hadn’t grasped the regret he’d feel every time he caught her gaze and she blushed to the roots of her golden hair. He would’ve called any man crazy if they’d told him he’d be punched with lust and envy as he watched her belly expand with Christopher’s baby. And he’d be called a pervert to the nth degree if anyone ever knew how he fantasized about seeing Megs get the baby inside her in the first place. Or being the one to do it.

Then, five weeks ago, Kendall had come along. Her appearance at Christopher’s bachelor party had intrigued Johnnie. He’d thought about her from time-to-time. Advanced perv that he was, he’d even imagined fucking both Megs and Kendall. Okay, so, the fact he’d been fucking two random chicks had helped his imagination tremendously.

He hadn’t believed he’d ever see Kendall again. But, now she was there, armed with a shitload of trouble and lies. Now, he had no choice but to admit his attraction to her and how often he’d thought about her.

Johnnie sighed. Christopher would be home in a matter of days and he had to make everything right by then. He
especially
had to have the spy he was harboring either punished or exonerated. If not, it’d be
his
ass. If he wasn’t killed, he’d be kicked out of the club.

Fuck.

The countdown was on.

A little over two hours later, Johnnie halted the Navigator in front of his house. Kendall’s breathing had evened out into sleep and he decided that was fine with him. He didn’t feel like talking to her right now. On edge and out of sorts, instead of turning into his driveway, he continued on to the house at the end of the private road. While the engine idled, Johnnie stared at the two-story structure with the wrap-around porch and wood case windows. Hedges and beach bindweed, overgrown with neglect, centered the double-entrance, circular driveway. Silence surrounded the house, the roar of the ocean a sad melody to the deserted place.

Christopher’s house. He’d moved his mother there for safety purposes. It ended up being the place where Johnnie had fallen in love with Megs. After Aunt Patricia’s murder, Christopher had intended to sell it, but Johnnie swore he’d look after it. He hadn’t quite lived up to that promise. He’d been unable to part with it but unable to deal with it. After everything that happened—much of which Christopher knew nothing of—Johnnie had visited Aunt Patricia, not only to keep watch over her as Christopher ordered but also because she was a reminder of his mother. Solace. Comfort. Maternal affection. She hadn’t understood the callous manipulations of her father and Johnnie wished he’d never discovered them.

Sometimes, he viewed her death as a blessing. Because the day he’d feared most had arrived: Logan Donovan had returned.

Although Big Joe’s out-of-control spiral had been a shock, Johnnie found it fitting that the club’s recent problems all went back to family members. The Death Dwellers had been founded in blood. Blood bathed the club’s very soul. And Johnnie had no doubt blood would be its downfall.

This club had gained its status through the sweat and tears of his grandmother. His mother. His aunt.

His cousin…

Goddammit.
Thoughts of Christopher hurt right now. For years, Johnnie had made excuses for Logan. Until that long ago day when everything changed. When Johnnie discovered the secret he’d vowed to take to his grave.

He’d been doing a damn good job of it, too, not giving a fuck about anything Christopher did or who Christopher did it to. Because Logan wasn’t around. Because the secret that could destroy them all couldn’t have been tortured out of Johnnie.

Even when Sebastian Caldwell had made his appearance and wreaked havoc, Johnnie had stuck to his promise. Because, really…he hadn’t given a fuck. He’d lived with the lie for so long…he hadn’t given a fuck. He’d done what he had to do to protect Christopher.

His president. His best friend. His cousin.

And his half-brother.

Needing a drink, Johnnie drove back to his house and got out of his SUV. He walked around to Kendall’s side, opened the door and shook her awake. The car’s inside light remained on and allowing Johnnie to see her long lashes flutter against her pale cheeks. Her eyelashes were long and thick and, like her brows, darker than her hair. He tapped her shoulder again and her eyes flew open.

She sucked in a breath, shrinking back when she saw him. “I-I thought everything was a dream.”

Johnnie lifted a brow,
wishing
everything had been a dream. She’d placed him in one fucked up position. “More like a nightmare.” One he hadn’t awakened from in years. Leaning over her, he dragged her to the edge of the seat then lifted her into his arms, then he slammed the door with his hip. His footfalls crunched against the gravel walkway between his driveway and his house. It was a struggle but he managed to keep her in his arms and open the door. Inside, however, he laid her on the floor to disable the alarm, then went around flipping on lights and opening windows to clear away the musty, closed-up smell.

Fuck. He had no food or alcohol and cursed. Although he wasn’t hungry, he didn’t know the time of Kendall’s last meal. He’d ask as soon as he uncuffed her. Carrying her to the living room, he laid her on the couch and began unpackaging her. Mortician was good at his work, so Johnnie had to cut the rope away and remove the burlap sack from her lower half before he could take her cuffs off.

Once he completed his tasks, he stared at her beautiful body. A small hint of jealousy that Mort saw Kendall undressed punched him in the gut and he growled. No, the brother had
touched
her to undress her himself. But that’s what Mort did, so Johnnie had no reason to feel so irritated.

Groaning, Kendall sat upright, rubbing her wrists, her hair a fiery fall around her. Cuff marks bruised her wrists and ankles, the rough burlap material abrading her skin after being wrapped so tightly because of the rope.

The light bounced off her skin and reflected in her eyes, illuminating the irises with a combination of brilliance—topaz, amber, citrine. “Johnnie—“

“Save it.” He held up a hand to interrupt her, then stood and stalked away from her.

A few moments later, he sat at the breakfast bar and hung his head in his hands.

“Is there anything I can do?”

Scowling because she’d followed him, he cut his eyes in the direction of her voice. “You’ve done enough, so thanks but no thanks, Mata Hari.”

She sidled closer to him, dressed in only her panties and bra. “We can make each other feel good,” she offered in a shaky voice. Her hand fluttered to her belly. Before she touched herself, she balled her hand into a fist and dropped it to her side. Johnnie studied her, the swell of her breasts, bigger than he remembered them.

Her attempt to school her gorgeous face into nonchalance failed. Still, he understood her sad wariness. Her life rested in the palm of his hands. That alone was enough to cause her peaked, flushed countenance.

But he’d been around pregnant women, and he remembered the actions and look of one in particular. Kendall radiated with that special glow.

Johnnie straightened. “Are you pregnant?”

A gamut of emotions rushed across her face at the brusque question. Her hands fluttered toward her belly again. Like before, she stopped herself and went rigid. “Is that any business of yours?”

Was it? At the moment, it was, but he was too fucking tired to get into a fucking debate with her.

“Not really,” he admitted with ease.

He’d used condoms with her and, although nothing but keeping his dick in his pants was foolproof, he couldn’t have been the only man she’d been with recently. Not her. The epitome of betrayal. He eyed her, ignoring how vulnerable she looked. Or how her eyes spoke to him on a deep level, begging him for understanding. Her curtain of red hair contrasted with her pale skin, blanketing her like silken fire.

He studied her belly, her long, endless legs. Recognized her exhaustion and fear.

Fuck. He rubbed the back of his neck. Yes, he wanted to fucking know if she was pregnant. “I don’t have time for any more of your bullshit, Kendall,” he growled. “My fucking patience is at an end. Now. Are you pregnant? And before you answer, let me remind you it’s in your best interest to tell me, so I’ll know how to proceed.”

She licked her lips, her eyes growing misty. “Is that the only reason?” she whispered, the huskiness in her voice sending signals to his dick.

What a strange fucking question. Unless…”Are you insinuating the baby is mine?”

He stared at her, daring her to let that lie fall from her lips.

Defeat entered her features and Johnnie’s nostrils flared. “Have I fucking hurt you?”