Remiss (Death Dwellers MC Legacy Generation #7)

Prologue – Johnnie

Until two years ago, John Donovan reserved Saturdays for his family.

He took Kendall and their children to any number of places.

At times, a nephew or three tagged along.

Mainly CJ because of how much Rory adored him.

Sometimes, Devon, who was Johnnie’s second cousin and his children’s third, but never Ryan. That kid was always an asshole.

Growing comfortable and taking those idyllic Saturdays for granted, somewhere along the way, he stopped seeing them as special, as finite, as bonding experiences.

They became routine, dull at best, and an inconvenience at worst. He never expected those Saturday outings to stop, but then he never expected a half-brother he’d never met to crop up out of nowhere like an unwanted poisonous weed.

Neither could he have foreseen growing so resentful and bitter, especially toward Megan, and by extension CJ.

As long as he’d wanted Christopher to accept Kendall as part of the family, he never expected that it would happen and he’d hate the friendship his wife and brother were building more than he’d ever despised anything in life.

For years, Christopher barred Kendall from involving herself in club business. Suddenly, he was relying on her for club business. Neither of them cared about Johnnie’s anger or the jealousy eating him alive.

In his mind, there had always been a spark between Christopher and Kendall.

Lust. Attraction. Desire. Their mutual emotions sickened Johnnie and had him running scared.

Because despite everything, he loved Kendall.

Adored her. He couldn’t imagine his life without her.

Deep down, though, he feared her waking up one day and finding him lacking because… because…

He wasn’t Christopher.

He’d lost Megan because he wasn’t Christopher.

That fact turned him against Megan and CJ, saw him resenting Christopher. Because he wasn’t Christopher.

For most of their lives, Johnnie idolized Christopher. They’d shared a genuine bond, a wealth of respect, and deep admiration. Then, it all went off the rails.

Bash entered the picture and Johnnie sought to be the hero.

The Saturday outings, his trust in Kendall, or his bond with Christopher would never recover.

Something inside Johnnie broke. Or maybe it never healed after his days in Colombia when he’d visited his grandfather and lost a girl he truly cared about due to xenophobia.

He’d just patched the wound and moved on, pretending to be happy and carefree and unaffected.

He wasn’t.

Worse, while Christopher and Kendall buddied up and “worked together”, Bash lurked so close to the club that he summoned Johnnie to a meeting in Long Beach, the place where the corporate office for the medical lab was until recently and where Johnnie and Christopher’s beach houses had been until they were blown up during a club feud almost two decades ago.

Over the years, the lab property had been updated with fresh coats of paint and better landscaping. The surrounding area was more built up, but generally the building remained the same nondescript drab place with white trimming that could’ve housed any number of industries.

Bash wanting to meet at the office building proved to Johnnie the motherfucker knew more about the Dwellers than he’d first let on.

Scowling, he unlocked the door to the building and walked into the hallway, disabling the alarm and flicking on overhead the light.

Unlike the outside, the interior had been completely remodeled several years ago.

Between Megan and Kendall, the cost was ten times more expensive than first anticipated, yet the end result was worth every dime.

Waterproof wood made from acacia trees covered the floors.

A sleek reception desk equipped with the latest technology greeted visitors.

Once checked in, they sat in sturdy chairs in a waiting area filled with magazines, charging stations for electronic devices, and a decent-sized television.

The lab had state-of-the-art equipment and the file room housed the fax machine and printer.

A refrigerator, microwave, coffee station, and two tables filled the break room.

But his office had been the masterpiece, dominated by Italian furnishings, expensive paintings, and a hidden room to take care of motherfuckers who crossed the club.

Johnnie left it all behind for Kendall and their kids.

To be closer to them in case of an emergency.

Patients still came to this location, along with their other labs dotted around the area from Hortensia to Portland to Yakima and Salem.

Now, though, Corporate was in the same Hortensia building as Bailey’s new office.

It…

A whistle rose behind Johnnie and he jerked in surprise, caught off-guard.

He turned.

Bash smirked at him. “You sure you motherfuckers run a goddamn club?” Sniffing, he glanced around, inspecting the ceiling, the floor, and the walls. Amusement danced in his pale green eyes. “Pretty cushy for bad ass bikers.”

Annoyed at Bash’s unexpected arrival, Johnnie glared at him. “Jealous, asshole?” he growled, in no mood for Bash’s games. “You can’t find an easier way to pull in fucking money?”

“Fuck you. Don’t take being a stupid motherfucker out on me. It’s not my fucking fault you were daydreaming and I could’ve walked up behind you and blew you the fuck away before you knew what the fuck hit you.”

Bash’s correct assessment deepened Johnnie’s irritation. “Call in your fucking guard dog, so I can hear why you demanded this meeting.”

“If Cleaner was with me, he would’ve shot the fuck out of you.”

The thought chilled Johnnie; there was no love lost between him and Cleaner.

“What do you want?”

Surprise flared in Bash’s eyes. Another grin, deeper, puckered his pockmarked skin. “You disappoint me, little brother.”

“Not that I’m interested in your approval, but what led to your disappointment?”

Bash shrugged. “Figure it the fuck out.”

“What do you want, motherfucker?”

“Unlike you, I don’t trust standing in an open doorway with my fucking back to the world. I need to talk to you and I want to do it inside.”

“How do you know someone isn’t lying in wait for you?”

Laughter roared from Bash. “Please, fuckhead. You jumped ten feet in the fucking air. You weren’t expecting me for another hour and you wouldn’t be so jumpy if you had backup.”

“That means nothing—”

“I’ve reconned this building for a fucking day,” Bash said impatiently. “You’re the only one here.”

Johnnie hadn’t considered that possibility. “Fuck, fine. Follow me.” He started off but stopped and turned when he didn’t hear Bash’s footsteps. His brother remained in the doorway. “What now?”

“Other than the fact you’re a stupid motherfucker? I’m waiting for someone.”

Johnnie wouldn’t take Bash’s bait or allow Cleaner to come in and think he’d take Johnnie down. “Fuck no. Cleaner isn’t welcome.”

“A little late for limitations, but it isn’t Cleaner. It’s Meggie’s new financial advisor.”

Johnnie choked. “What?”

“Can we—”

“Prez?”

The voice shocked Johnnie yet again. He wasn’t expecting it and it jolted him hearing Bash addressed as Prez. It drove home that Johnnie was meeting with top leaders of a rival club. No matter the reason, it was wrong and dangerous.

Johnnie would face brutal retribution if he continued to try and combat the bullshit Bash flung. For whatever reason—bad luck or impeccable timing—Bash texted him at four this morning and demanded the meeting.

As the same festering anger replaced his astonishment, Johnnie hit the road by 8AM. Kendall and Mattie were up early for a girls’ day at the spa with Megan and Rebel. His dear wife hadn’t asked for an explanation and Johnnie hadn’t offered one. Besides, he had spies, er guards, watching over them.

“This is Easton Love,” Bash introduced.

“Sounds like a fucking porn name,” Johnnie observed as Easton stepped from behind Bash and allowed Johnnie a good look.

His skin crawled and his mouth fell open.

“A shoo-in for Channing Tatum, huh?” Bash chortled, pleased with himself.

Easton Love could double for the actor. A quick glance might lead to mistaken identity.

As Brad Pitt was Roxanne’s celebrity crush, Channing “Magic Mike” “Step It Up” Tatum was Megan’s.

Christopher long ago forbade her watching all movies starring the man and banned all conversations about him.

He was his usual, over-the-top, psycho, jealous self toward his wife, even about a man she’d never meet.

His heart sinking, Johnnie studied Easton, dressed in a Scorpions cut with a 1%er patch, an American flag, and the name ‘Pounder’.

“It fits,” Bash said, chuckling. “Double entendre and all that jazz.”

Johnnie gaped at Easton Love…Pounder…whoever. “You are a porn star?”

He shook his head. “A male dancer. Was. I was a dancer.”

“Who sold cock to lonely bitches,” Bash inserted.

Easton ignored him to impart more information. “I’m also the club’s main grinder when we prepare our weed for shipments.”

Frowning, Bash clipped the man’s jaw. “Is this motherfucker a Scorpion?” he yelled. “That’s classified information you’re handing out. You’re lucky I’ve gotten used to you around and your brain’s useful for now. Otherwise, it would be on the fucking wall.”

“Sorry, Bash. I didn’t know he wasn’t a Scorpion. He’s not wearing a cut.”

“Fair enough,” Johnnie answered for Bash, afraid his half-brother might lose his temper and kill the stupid motherfucker.

He could call a club cleanup crew, but if it got back to Christopher, he’d have to explain himself, using yet another lie.

“You don’t run this show, Johnnie,” Bash barked. “I do. Keep your fucking comments to yourself.”

“Fuck you,” Johnnie replied, anger surging in him. “You’re on my fucking turf. I could shoot you as a fucking trespasser and leave no fucking trace of you.”