Page 30 of Deception (Deranged Drifters MC #22)

Chapter Thirty

Griffin’s Beach Undertaker

“ I like spending the night at the clubhouse,” Jamie says as she curls up against Undertaker’s side.

Until he almost lost her, Undertaker refused to have sex with Jamie in his apartment. He didn’t want anyone else to hear her, but he was living under a set of rules that went out the window a year ago.

He never thought he could live without his rules, but he can. With Jamie, everything is different.

Just like Nina told me it would be one day.

“I like spending the night with you,” he says and roughly cups her bare tit before dipping his head to suck her hard nipple.

His girl isn’t a tiny woman, and he loves it. She stands inches above most of the other women, and she’s full figured. Great tits, hips, ass and thighs. All the things she used to hate about herself are his favorite parts of her.

“I like spending all my time with you,” Jamie says with a moan when his fingers slip between her legs. “You play my body like a piano.”

“Once I got you tuned, it became much easier,” he jokes and slips two fingers inside her as he grinds his heel against her clit. “You woke up ready for me.”

“I’m always ready for you,” she says.

The love she has for him still amazes him. For someone so young, she hasn’t held herself back from him like he would have expected. She willingly followed his rules, and she still does, even though he doesn’t enforce them.

He knows he won’t make it without her. If she ever left, he’d disappear like a cat to go off and die. Even the thought makes his blood run cold.

“How do you want it?”

“Fuck me.”

The way this woman enjoys sex makes him excited every time he sees her, but he’s always surprised how much she likes being taken hard and fast compared to love making. He’d expected her to want more of the loving, tender touches than the frantic can’t-get-enough-of-you poundings.

Flipping her over, she hurries to her knees and moves to the edge of the bed. Undertaker stands, his cock ready and willing, and he slips into her wet heat.

“Baby, this is going to be fast.”

“Yes, please,” she moans as she moves her body against his manhood while he stands still.

It’s captivating, and he almost wants to wait and see how long this goes on for before she begs for more. Almost. His need to make her come wins out, and he grabs her hips and pounds into her.

Her hand slips between her legs to rub her clit furiously as he slams against her, and he loves it. Whenever he takes her this way, it doesn’t last long. She’s so damn tight, and sometimes he comes before her.

“Jamie, baby, I’m close.”

Her pussy clenches around him as she cries out, the moan starting deep in her throat before she buries her face into the bed. Her ass jiggles as she shakes with the orgasm, and he can’t stop himself from kneading her cheeks.

Thank fuck.

For more thrusts, and he comes hard, calling her name as he fills her. They’ve never used condoms, and he’s not sure that he’d care much if her birth control failed. In fact, it would solidify that she’s his forever.

“Wow,” Jamie pants, and he smiles as his release drips out of her when he pulls out. “I think we’ve perfected that timing.”

His lips kiss along her spine until he reaches her neck. “Your ass jiggles when you come. It makes me want to take a big bite out of it.”

“You’re so weird,” she giggles.

“Yo, Taker!” the new Prospect calls before knocking on the door.

Booker Shaw is an interesting guy, and Undertaker knew the moment that he met him that he’d like him. “Yeah?”

“You got a package. Not the one you just delivered in your girl, but it’s in the Chapel for you.”

And this is why I didn’t want us fucking in the clubhouse.

Jamie lays on her back and smirks at him as she pushes her tits together. “Do you really want to make this a sex-free zone again?”

She knows just how to read his mind, and he shakes his head. “When you put it that way…”

“Baby, you’re usually the one putting it somewhere.”

Giving her a cocky grin, he chuckles and gets dressed. “I’ll be back.”

“I’ll still be willing.”

“I love you.”

“I know,” she says with a wink. “I love you, too.”

He leaves the apartment and feels guilty for being happy.

Today would have been Aaron’s forty-first birthday.

If Nina was still alive and not the De-Identifier’s last victim, he’d maybe reach out to her to meet up with Jamie.

Show her the woman he found that makes him feel complete in a way he never had with anyone else before.

Then they could share stories and tell Jamie all about Aaron.

Instead, he has no link left to his best friend and the closest thing to a brother Undertaker has ever had.

“Do you know who the package is from?” Undertaker asks Book as he mops in front of the bar.

“Tim something, I think it said.”

The colonel. “Thanks, man,” he says and walks into the Chapel.

A large box sits on the table, and he sees multiple mailing slips showing how many people it was sent to before reaching him.

“I should probably give someone my home address,” he mutters and opens the box. On the top is a letter in handwriting he doesn’t recognize dated eight months ago.

Dear Francis,

You don’t know me, but my name is Patty. I was roommates with Nina, and I was upset to hear what happened to her. I just returned from overseas, and in the letters Nina sent me, she told me to pack everything she has and send it to you if anything should ever happen to her.

I don’t know what all of this is, but I know she was working on something dangerous. A man she identified as Phillip killed her friend Dina. It really messed Nina up, and she was on a mission to take him down.

As you can imagine, I was worried about her, but there was little I could do from Afghanistan.

I told her time and time again that she was playing with fire, but she’d just tell me that no one else was looking into this.

If someone didn’t stop him, he never would.

I guess he stopped her before she could stop him.

Nina always told me how many times you’d saved her without even knowing it. I have no doubt that if she’d been able to get in touch with you that she’d still be here with us. Everything I’ve put in this box would be in the trash, and she’d be celebrating my return with me.

My address is on this envelope. I’d love to know where she’s buried to pay my respects and say goodbye.

I don’t have many friends as it is, which I suspect you understand with our line of work.

Many of the friends we depend on don’t make it back home with us.

At least, they don’t come back physically.

I hope you can make sense of this. I don’t have anything else to give you better context, so I hope you know what she was doing with it.

Thanks, Patty

“Phillip?” Undertaker asks, his heart racing as he sees a picture on the top with that name written across it.

Gerard Buchanan gave that name to Colt. The name of the supposed real De-Identifier. And the man in the picture is not Gerard.

Nothing could be found about Phillip, but as Undertaker removes everything from the large box, he finds it difficult to breathe.

Nina did a lot of recon on this man. A lot.

Picture after picture of blonde women with blue eyes.

Just like Nina. Some of them look familiar, and he’s pretty sure she’d been able to identify the victims found in Griffin’s Beach.

Along with the pictures of women, there are pictures of men who all look familiar. He doesn’t know why, but they’re all brown haired with hazel eyes.

“This motherfucker really does like his types,” he says.

The final folder of pictures makes him drop it onto the table as though it just burst into flames and burned him. Pulling out his phone, he fumbles as he frantically calls Colt.

“Hey, man, what’s up?”

“You need to get to the clubhouse. Now.”

“There can’t be another raid—”

“No, it’s… I think we made a mistake, Colt. We need Brock, too.”

“On my way.”

Swallowing, Undertaker lets out a long breath. “Don’t get tunnel vision again. You almost lost Jamie the last time you tried to find this asshole. She won’t stick around if you do it all again. Keep your shit together.”

It doesn’t take long before Colt and Brock both show up, and Brock looks around, confused. “What’s going on?”

“I’m pretty sure Gerard wasn’t lying about this Phillip guy,” Undertaker says.

The air shifts, and Colt shuts the doors. “What are you talking about?”

“This box just showed up here today. Nina’s roommate sent it to me eight months ago when she returned home. It hit quite a few places before it finally got here once the colonel figured out how to find me.”

“Wait, some of these are the Griffin’s Beach victims,” Brock says. “And more. A lot more.”

He nods. “Nina started looking into Phillip after he killed Dina. Dina was Aaron’s fiancée when he died, and she lost her way. No matter how much Nina tried, she couldn’t bring Dina back from her depression. Turned to drugs and turning tricks.”

“Wait, did you say Phillip?” Colt asks.

Pulling a picture from the table, he holds it up to show them. “This is who she identified as Phillip.”

“That’s not Gerard,” Brock says.

“There’s something else you need to see. The reason I called.”

Colt takes the pictures Undertaker hands him, and his eyes widen. “What the fuck?”

“What?” Brock asks and looks over his shoulder. “Oh shit.”

They spread out all the pictures on the table, but Colt never takes his eyes from the ones taken in some sort of shop. Along two large walls are pictures upon pictures of Lex.

“These aren’t recent,” Colt says and points at one in a zoomed in shot. “This was from my sixteenth birthday party. And this one doesn’t look familiar at all. Based on how she looks, I’d guess this was from her time in Arizona. But then this one over here is from Summerville.”

“Wait, isn’t that the house we found Dani in?” Brock asks, pointing to a picture of Lex talking to a Kingsmen member outside of a house.

He nods. “This motherfucker has been following her since she was a teenager? And still is?”

“Gerard was right,” Brock says.

“And we killed the only link we had to Phillip.”

Undertaker sorts through the pictures of women and men. “There are thirty-three women. Thirty-four if we add Nina to the count. And thirty-three men.”

“Do these guys kind of look like Zane to either of you?” Colt asks.

Gasping, Brock nods. “They do. Jesus. This has to be related to VP, right? What are the odds that someone would target people who look like both of his kids without hating him?”

“But you found nothing, right?” Undertaker says. “Both you and Grayson?”

Colt braces himself on the table as he stares at the mural of Lex pictures. “Fuck.”

“What?”

“Gerard said Lex would be Phillip’s final victim. That he’s laying low until the time is right. And he mentioned this wall of pictures.”

Closing his eyes, Brock sighs. “Yeah, he did.”

“That would make thirty-five women if he goes after Lex, that we know of,” Undertaker says. “There could also be more male victims we don’t know about. What if he killed a man at the same time he did Nina? What if Zane will be the thirty-fifth male victim?”

“I don’t give a fuck about Zane,” Colt says and runs his fingers over the pictures of Lex. “But this motherfucker can’t have my wife.”

“What do we do?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t have a fucking clue.”