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Misfit(3)

By´╝ÜKathryn Kelly



A knock cut through her hazy brain. Or had she imagined it? The doorbell rang and hope swelled within her. She tried to scream, but she had no sound.

Noah stabbed her again.

“Pl-plea...” Too difficult to speak, Fee closed her eyes and awaited death.





Three months earlier



Winter clung to its last gasp in a burst of late March frost that chilled Fee to her bones. Stars dotted the sky, twinkling in the clear, cold night. Burrowing into her jacket, she hurried from her car to the clubhouse door, acknowledging the Probates guarding the sea of bikes, sprinkling of cars, and a crowd of party-goers spilling into the parking lot. Music vibrated from inside the building, pulsing through Fee, heightening her eagerness for fun.

Another Probate opened the door, granting her entry.

“Thank you,” she said, stepping into a place brimming with laughter and noise.

Instead of breaching the wall of people blocking her, she halted, waiting a few minutes to inch forward. Reaching the game area separated by wooden rails, she craned her neck, searching for two faces in particular. If she found one, she’d find the other.

They weren’t playing pool or even nearby. Three bikers surrounded one table. Two of them held cue sticks, while the other positioned himself for a shot. At another pool table…well. A naked girl laid on the table, her legs spread, offering the world a glimpse of her lady bits. She thrusted her tits up and jiggled, tempting the man already drooling over her display.

As the guy dove between the girl’s legs, Fee dragged her attention away. Her heart pounded in embarrassment and desire, an odd combination, considering she’d never engage in public sex.

Forging ahead, she weaved through the throng, until she reached the back corner table and halted. She’d found one of her bikers.

Cash reared back in a chair, smiling at one of the women surrounding him while another stood at his other side, whispering in his ear. Four additional girls sat at the table, all of them naked.

Jealousy hit her hard, a little worse than the times the feeling reared up over Stretch. Sex between the three of them had its perks and pitfalls. Cash included both of them when they hooked up. Seeing him with the girls and without Stretch clued Fee in. Tonight, Cash intended to fuck random people. No wonder she hadn’t heard from him in days.

Fee redirected her steps to the bar, glad that Christopher and Johnnie were long since gone. She spied an unoccupied stool and hastened to it, ignoring the scowls of the bikers and glares of the women.

After a long few days at work, she wanted to unwind. She hadn’t seen Cash and Stretch in a week, so she’d taken matters into her own hands and searched them out. It had been easier to see them during the short time she’d lived with Christopher and Meggie, at his insistence, after the deaths of their sisters and nieces.

Neither Christopher or Meggie had forced her out, but Fee returned to her apartment a few weeks later. Besides, her brother forbade her involvement with a biker, and she wanted two.

Somehow, Zoann had convinced Christopher of Val’s worthiness. Fee craved the same.

“What can I get you, Fee?”

“Hey, Potter,” she greeted yet another Probate. Recognition at the club made her feel accepted and removed her overwhelming grief, for a little while. “A beer.”

He nodded, then turned to get her order. “Outlaw and Meggie left a couple hours ago,” he said once he slid her a cold bottle.

Taking a deep taste, she sighed in pleasure. “I figured.” Otherwise, she wouldn’t have come.

“You want me to call Prez? It’s crazy around here.”

As if to illustrate the point, a hoarse shout rose above the other noise. Christopher would come running to rescue her. He’d also read her the riot act for subjecting herself to the orgy-in-the-making.

Fee’s shoulders slumped, the beer or the party no longer appealing to her. She shouldn’t have come. Both Cash and Stretch had her address and her cell phone number. If they wanted her, they knew how to find her.

She tasted more of her beer.

After her mother’s death, she’d floundered, dropping out of film school and losing interest in life. Despite her own problems, Zoann hadn’t allowed Fee to give up, insisting she return to the land of the living.

Fee had just conquered her grief when a crazy man gunned down her sisters and nieces last year, crumbling her world all over again. She didn’t know what to do, where to go, or who to go to. Both Christopher and Zoann had their own families, though they’d move heaven and hell to help Fee.

At the end of the day, they’d return to their spouses and their children. What Fee wanted most was her own family. Marriage to Cash and his kids.

“Fee?” Stretch’s beer-laced breath fanned her ear and the side of her neck. “What are you doing here?”

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