Misalliance (Death Dwellers MC #4.5) (10 page)

“Yes,” she whispered, sobering up. “I’ll try. I promise. I won’t ever agree with Meggie’s choices or her marriage philosophy. That will always stand between us, but she stands firm in her choices. For now, her life with Christopher works with her and she’s happy.”

“And what is
your
truth?” he asked, sliding his finger along her jawline. He no longer cared about who accepted who. As Christopher had told Mort and Bailey, no one had the right to interfere in their relationship. The same went for Johnnie and Kendall. He still needed to know the answer to an important question. Last night, they’d been equally emotional. Today, she looked rested and more in control of herself.

“Do you still want to fuck Christopher?”

Regret clear in her eyes, she shook her head. “No, I never did. I was jealous, angry, hurt and I wanted revenge on you and Meggie. I’m sorr-”

“No, gorgeous,” he said softly, surprised at the sudden tears filling her eyes. “You’ve apologized enough. It’s time I did some apologizing of my own.” He paused and swiped at her tears. “Why are you crying?”

“You called me gorgeous,” she said on a sob. “I never thought you’d call me that again.”

“It’s very easy to make you happy, isn’t it?” he teased, wishing his words were true.

Laying her head on his shoulder, she nodded and clutched his chest. “You’re giving us another chance and that’s all I ever wanted, but let’s not be intimate until we know for sure if we’ll be together.”

What?
“Kendall-”

“Let’s…lately, I’ve lived in three-month increments. Three months in the treatment facility. Three months out of it before I felt ready to come to you. There’s six weeks before the baby is born and it’ll take six weeks for me to heal. Three months total. From the moment we met, we’ve had sex. We both need a more solid foundation.”

Johnnie should’ve known he wouldn’t get off so easy. He’d have some groveling to do. She was right, though. They’d fucked, and he hadn’t known her name. There’d hardly been time for what a woman like Kendall needed—romance.

Tomorrow, while they fucked up the deputy, Johnnie intended to get pointers from Val and Christopher on just what type of romance a woman enjoyed.

Dear Diary,

I want to leave, disappear, and forget Brooks, Charlotte, Johnnie, Mortician, Christopher, and Meggie. Most of all, I want to forget Dr. Stanton.

I despise the arrogant, unfeeling asshole. He’s like a robot. An unsympathetic know-it-all, who, in actuality, doesn’t know shit. He has diagnosed me as having….wait for it!

Post-traumatic stress, caused by years of mental abuse and more recently, sexual assault, coupled with episodes of manic depression
and
sociopathic behaviors.

Me?
I’ll admit to being depressed. But the rest of it? No way! He can go and fuck himself. He vacillates in my supposed “obsession”. One moment, I’m focused on the asshole, Christopher, and the next I’m focused on his wife, Meggie.

Or as
he
put it, “Your fixation is divided. Sometimes, you’re preoccupied with the man you’re unwillingly attracted to, Mr. Caldwell, and the next you’re focused on his other half, Mrs. Caldwell.”

The words just confirm to me that Dr. Stanton is a pathetic ass wipe, who makes wild guesses to get away with his astronomical fees. I have no idea why Charlotte refuses to listen to me when I begin to list the reasons why I want to check myself out of this place.

Each time I make up my mind to do so, she gives me ten reasons not to. I’m beginning to suspect he’s giving her a kickback to keep me here. It seems odd to me, that every time I attempt to steer the conversation to Johnnie, Dr. Stanton twists it back to Christopher.

“Kendall, you stated several times, your sister and mother would still be alive if you’d slept with Mr. Caldwell.”

And
? It’s the goddamned truth!

“There’s no guarantee things wouldn’t have turned out exactly the same way even if you’d had sex with the man.”

I disagree!

“Are you disagreeing because you truly believe that? Or is it because you’re looking for validation of your desire to sleep with him? Maybe, if you slept with Mr. Caldwell, you’d further assimilate Mrs. Caldwell’s identity?”

Ass…HOLE!

Too furious to continue the morning session, I stormed out.

Yes! He’s decided I need morning and evening sessions. This is because he’s nothing but a charlatan.

The evening session went much better. He allowed me to focus on Johnnie, and all the reasons I love him. I had to list at least three physical, mental, and emotional attributes. The arrogant ass asked me if I knew the difference between the two. He pissed me off so much, I
actually
growled at him.

“Do you know the difference?” I sneered.

That knocked him off his high horse.

With a glare at me, he didn’t respond, and instead, demanded I tell him how important I ranked each of the features I listed for Johnnie.

I started with the obvious.

Johnnie’s Physical Features That I Love:

1.)
    
He’s gorgeous with his silver-gray eyes and light blond hair. He takes pride in his appearance and knows he is every woman’s dream and the envy of all men.

2.)
   
He’s very virile, and makes sure his partner is pleased before he gets his own pleasure.

3.)
   
His smile lights up his entire face. He shows the world a carefree, amused side that sparkles from the inside.

4.)
  
He is tall and muscular, and handles me with ease. He makes me feel like a female, as if I’m small and delicate.

5.)
   
He easily transforms from a suit and tie, to a cut and T-shirt. He makes the clothes. They don’t make him.

6.)
   
He owns the world and he knows it.

My admiration for his physical prowess could go on forever. Although I spoke from truth, the details I offered Dr. Stanton bored him to tears. I couldn’t have been happier. He pointed out I started with the physical, so my feelings for Johnnie were based on need and were quite shallow. I told him I was giving the lists as he offered them to me.

He called me purposefully difficult. I called him an idiot.

He threw me out of his office before I had the chance to continue with what about Johnnie I loved so much. But I liked this exercise, so I’ll continue it here, including my definition of what is the difference between emotional and mental…health, attributes, whatever the fucker would like to modify the terms with.

Mental health is the ability to sufficiently process cognitive thinking, while emotional stability is the reaction to feelings and thoughts. To me, anyway, and all that matters is my perception. One cannot function properly without the other, in most cases, but I believe Johnnie’s mind is close to genius level. He’s practical and perceptive in most things, with a head for business and numbers. So that list was as easy as his physical characteristics.

Johnnie’s Mental Abilities:

1.)
    
He’s keen, and always sees the big picture with small details added in, as necessary.

2.)
   
He’s cerebral. His mind is always working a million miles a minute.

3.)
   
He’s intellectual
.
Means the same as cerebral…?

Yuck! I’m chewing the eraser as I consider my list so far. My heart is beating so fast because I should have more to add here. Dr. Stanton is making me doubt the sincerity of my feelings for Johnnie, even more so when I realize what I love about him emotionally is just as short…shorter...than the one I just wrote.

My hands are shaking as I force myself to get back to Stanton’s Stupid Lists. Suppose my feelings for Johnnie
are
superficial? What then? Is this why I’ve acted and reacted as I did the months I was with him? Was it because I was fighting to capture something real? I thought it was out of my grasp because of Johnnie’s past, because of
my
past, when, in actuality it wasn’t there to begin with?

What does that mean for us? Where does that leave me? Him? Our baby?

Since Charlotte enlisted Brooks and
once again
talked me into staying, I pose this question to Dr. Stanton. He pouts like a girl, and I knew the moment I saw him this morning, he’s still upset with me for calling him an idiot yesterday.

Instead of answering my questions, he insisted I give him three emotions to pin on Johnnie. He didn’t allow me to think in depth. I had to throw out the first words that came to mind.

They were:

1.)
  
Arrogant

2.)
 
Determined

3.)
 
Confident

4.)
 
Sexy

5.)
 
Humorous

6.)
 
Strong

He didn’t appreciate that I doubled the words he requested.

He’s lucky I didn’t quadruple them. I would have, too, just for spite, if he hadn’t called time on the twenty-five seconds he’d allotted me.

It was then that I realized what first drew me to Johnnie. It wasn’t his drop-dead gorgeous looks, but it was his confidence.

Until the last five minutes, the session had been the best I’d ever had with Dr. Stanton. Then, he ruined it by asking me to list six characteristics of Christopher, allotting me the same amount of time.

How easy!

Christopher is ignorant, unreasonable, oversexed, chauvinistic, violent, and a demon with the looks of a dark god.

With a confusing smirk at me, Dr. Stanton ended our session, and I didn’t waste time beating a hasty retreat.

Chapter 8: You Were Right

Warmth surrounded Kendall, the scent of sandalwood and citrus invading her nostrils. Drawing in a deep breath, she sighed in contentment, turning to the source of heat and snuggling closer.

A feathery touch whispered across her lips.

“Mmm,” she murmured, opening her eyes at the light contact.

Johnnie’s smile greeted her. Unable to stop it—not wanting to—she lifted up and returned his kiss, then grinned at him.

“Hey.”

“Hi, gorgeous.”

Her insides warmed at his husky words. She brushed her fingers along the curve of his jaw, his morning stubble tickling her sensitive skin. They faced each other, both of them lying on their sides. She stared into his eyes, free of fatigue or anger, just basking in
her
. Whatever else she’d ever doubted she always knew how much he enjoyed looking at her. Even when she’d been uncomfortable with his attention, he took pleasure in her height, her curves, and her red hair.

“Are you feeling okay?”

She nodded. “I barely had morning sickness. Don’t you remember?”

He moved a lock of hair away from her cheek. “Yes. I didn’t know if that had changed or not.”

“It hasn’t,” she said softly. Grabbing his hand, she placed it on her stomach, hoping the baby moved. Kendall had noted, weeks ago, it didn’t do early morning. Most of its activity happened from late afternoon to late evening.

Johnnie caressed her, the nightgown she wore serving as a thin barrier between his touch and her skin. Her nipples tightened. Desire shot through her at the sudden flame smoldering in his eyes.

He drifted his hand lower, until he cupped her pussy. Kendall’s eyes slid closed at the feel of him. Drawing her into his arms, he searched her face. The intensity of his look made her tremble.

When his fingers threaded through her hair, she offered him a smile, encouraging him without words to continue. Not hesitating to seize control, he tasted her mouth, running his tongue along the seam of her lips, torturing her with sensation.

“So fucking sweet,” he grunted against her, taking their kiss deeper, turning up the intensity, and thrusting his hard cock against her hip. His pre-cum wet her skin.

Her pussy slickened, swelled, and her clit throbbed, deprived of Johnnie’s touch for too long. Moaning, she arched up, begging him for release without saying the words.

Finally, he massaged her slit and thumbed the hardened nub. He tore his mouth from hers and moved to her breast, using his teeth to tug the material aside. Sucking a nipple into his mouth, he increased the pressure on her clit.

Kendall rocked against his fingers and threaded her fingers through his silky hair. His skin burned beneath her touch, the hot length of him jerking, turning her on like nothing else ever could.

Only a few strokes of his expert fingers, and his tongue working in and out of her mouth, sent her over the edge into a mind-blowing release. As she settled back to earth, he blew on her sensitive nipple, and whispered to her. The sound of his voice and the feel of his warm breath stimulated every nerve ending in her body. She couldn’t wait to suck his dick and taste his cum.

She gripped his cock, but he pulled away, and got to his feet. Confused, she adjusted her nightgown, covering her breasts and pussy.

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” he promised.

Her fingers had given Johnnie a sexy bed-head. She itched to repair every, out-of-place strand, then stroke every inch of him. But she couldn’t. He’d moved out of her reach.

“Your dick says otherwise.” She nodded to the hard length that bobbed whenever he moved. “You might be fine, but it isn’t.”

He smirked at her, the wicked gleam in his eyes making her blush and giggle, like a school girl.

“I want to taste you.”

He sucked in a breath. “No, Kendall.”

Uncertainty tightened her insides, and she swallowed, nervous he’d walk away and find pleasure elsewhere.

He offered her a smile. “I’m not going to another woman, sweetheart.”

“Then?”

“Then nothing, but you were right. You need to see that I value you for more than just getting my nuts off in your lovely body. You’re beautiful. You’ve always been to me, but never more so than now.”

Lust and love, a combination only Johnnie could pull off with such forbidden promise, filled his expression.

She wanted to tell him so much, share everything with him. They’d already talked, though. Now, was the time for action, so instead of verbalizing her thoughts, she’d show him.

Like this, with just the two of them facing one another, with no outside interferences, she believed they’d work through everything. Their love would—could—conquer all!

“Sleep, sweetheart. I have to get to a meeting with Christopher.”

She glanced towards the window and found it still dark. Dawn was just beginning to break. “Now?”

“Yes.”

“What’s the meeting about? How long will you be gone?”

He shrugged and turned towards the bathroom, throwing over his shoulder, “A loose end that needs taking care of and it might take a while.”

Kendall didn’t particularly like the sound of that, but knew she wouldn’t get anything else from him. Instead of arguing, she sank back against the pillows, pulled the covers over her, and decided to stay in bed for as long as possible. Later, they’d attend the meal Christopher had planned for Meggie. Kendall needed as much strength as possible to get through it.

Setting the bag he carried aside, Johnnie raised his gun to cover Christopher’s back, as he jimmied the lock on the side door. They were at the house of the man identified as the sheriff’s deputy. The one who’d made Megan, Zoann, and Dinah strip before he’d searched them with his bare fingers.

Though unknown at the time, Megan had been pregnant with the twins she currently carried, which added to Christopher’s need for revenge. Johnnie knew the deputy would’ve been a dead ass walking for touching Zoann, too, but he’d committed a cardinal sin and fucked with Megan.

Val drove Christopher’s pickup around, with the orders to return in ten minutes. They needed to get in and out before the neighborhood began to stir. It was a middle income area, mainly filled with families. That meant school bus routes, carpooling, and career-oriented parents. All of that equaled early morning and late evening activity.

Which equaled witnesses, and the threat of being identified.

“Fuckin’, motherfuckin’ lock,” Christopher complained, finally engaging the tumbler with the thin strip of metal he’d brought.

He shoved the rod into his back pocket, then drew his nine, and motioned for Johnnie to follow him in. He picked up the bag, went inside, and realized they were in a utility room barely big enough for both of them to stand in comfortably.

Johnnie could barely see the washer and dryer in the dark room. There was a sink too, perfect for blood to drain away…

As the thought crossed his mind, he drew in a deep breath to calm his anticipation and slow the acceleration of his heart, and climbed into the brutal head space he thrived on. He wanted to move, but Christopher always paused to adjust his hearing and sight.

Maybe, it was because Johnnie thrived on slow torture, and he struck fast. Whereas, Christopher reacted at lightning speed, and rarely had the patience for anything more.

Finally, he moved forward, the black plastic gloves making it hard for Johnnie to distinguish between Christopher’s hands and his gun.

The tick-tock of a clock somewhere in the room they crept through fit as a countdown to the end of its owner’s life.

They now kept a steady pace. Christopher seemed to know where he was going. Cattycorner from the bathroom—Johnnie knew this because of the opened door—Christopher eased his way into a room. Johnnie lagged back to open his bag.

A light flickered on and a gun cocked.

“Rise and shine, motherfucker,” Christopher announced.

Johnnie grabbed the hood and rope, and then rushed in behind Christopher, to find the deputy wide-awake, his features flushed with anger.

The man held himself still,
too
still. Any moment, he’d go for a gun he had hidden somewhere nearby. He was just waiting for an opportunity. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Hands up,” Christopher ordered calmly.

In his early to mid-thirties, Deputy Dead Dog had brownish blond hair growing from the scalp of a brainless head, because instead of complying, he sneered, “I wouldn’t fuck with me if I were you.”

“Lucky for my ass, I ain’t you, motherfucker,” Christopher growled, losing patience. The plan was to get the deputy off-premises and to the meat shack, for finger-breaking, and whatever else came to mind, before finishing him off. “Now, hands the fuck up or head blown the fuck away. Your fuckin’ choice.”

The deputy narrowed his eyes, zeroing in on Christopher’s cut, his title, his name, and his various patches. He smiled. “You’re her husband. The little blonde whore from the club house?” he asked, although it was clear he didn’t need clarification. “She felt good,” he continued. “Her pussy was dry, but so hot and tight-”

With a furious roar, Christopher opened fire, emptying the clip in the man’s head. Blood sprayed on the walls and ceiling, on Christopher, Johnnie, and the floor.

Johnnie wiped his brow, and scowled. Christopher had come prepared to shoot the fuckhead on the spot. “You put a fucking silencer on your gun?” he asked in outrage, disappointed at the quick kill.

Christopher shook in residual fury, his cold green eyes sweeping over Johnnie. Not answering, he began gathering shell casings.

Sighing, Johnnie wrapped Deputy Dead Dog in the comforter.

“Get your shit,” Christopher ordered, pocketing the evidence and pointing to the bag Johnnie had brought. “I’ll get this motherfucker.”

“We dumping him?”

“Fuck no.”

Johnnie’s interest piqued. “Meat shack appointment still?”

A curt nod. “We are taking our time, so Cash will be there with breakfast waiting for us. While we get rid of him, he’ll be unscrambling the signals to this motherfucker’s house alarms and surveillance cameras.”

Appeased, Johnnie nodded, and checked one last time to make sure they’d left nothing behind. A couple of minutes later, they were departing through the side door and hustling the body into the covered bed of the pickup, before heading back to the compound to erase all evidence of the assfuck’s existence.