Viper's Kiss (Back Down Devil MC #8)(26)

“I hate you,” she whispered. “I’ve always hated you, Blaine. For what you made me feel and what I wanted. Because I knew I’d do this to Meghan. Because she was never right for you. I hated her sometimes. But I hate myself the most because she's dead. I let her slide into your grasp and I didn’t pull her away. I could have convinced her to leave your sorry ass but I never did.”

“Yeah, keep talking,” Blaine said. He thrust himself at Jessa. “Keep running that mouth and I’ll make your ass really sorry. You thought it hurt in your *…”

“Yeah, do that,” Jessa said. “That’s what you want, right? Tough guy. So f*cking tough.”

Blaine broke away from Jessa and opened the door. He showed her the way out. “I’ll call a f*cking prospect to take you back.”

He slammed the door and locked it.

He walked to the kitchen and stopped at the table. He grabbed the table and threw it across the kitchen. Charging back down the hall to get his main cell phone and his keys, he paused when he got into the bedroom. He inched forward and grabbed the sheet that had been against Jessa’s body. Rolling it up tight, he brought it to his nose and took a deep breath.

It smelled like her. All of her. Her sweet *. Her sweat. Her desire. Their crazy f*cking sex.

But it was all wrong. It meant nothing. And it didn’t f*cking matter.

Not with Vin dead.

There was no longer a connection.

Blaine called a prospect and ordered him to pick up Jessa. He then put the sheet and the blanket and the pillow case in the fireplace and lit it up. He watched it burn and then pissed on the fire.

That was f*cking that.

***

Blaine stood up at the full table and looked around. He took off his leather cut and tossed it to the middle of the table.

“What the hell are you doing, brother?” Gaige asked.

“Oh no,” Jace said. “Are you going to show us another crazy skin rash or something?”

“If he takes out his dick, I’ll throw up,” Landon said.

“Shut up,” Blaine said. “All of you. Listen to me carefully. That cut belongs on the table.”

“What?” Miller asked.

Blaine put a hand to Miller’s shoulder. “I’ve been carrying something on my shoulders for a long time. About who I used to be.”

“Let me guess,” Erik said, “you were a good choir boy…”

“No,” Blaine said. “But I could tell you some stories about what I’ve done in churches that would make the devil himself blush.”

Everyone chuckled.

“I was a cop,” Blaine said.

The room fell deathly silent.

Miller looked at Blaine and was stone faced.

“What?” Shay asked.

“I was a cop. I was a detective. I worked the streets. I was on the other side of things. I had a life. I sort of had a family too. That part doesn’t matter. I was pushed away from it all. I have a better understanding of this life than anyone at this table because of what I saw on the other side. I would die for everyone at this table. I would die for anyone in this clubhouse. Even the prospects. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this, but you need to vote it now. It’s against the club to have someone like me patched in. Maybe I want to feel the pain I’ve been avoiding for years. Maybe I want to go as one of the Lost Men. Or maybe I just want a bullet in the back of my head. That’s up to you to decide.”

Blaine walked toward the door.

Somewhere in his heart he hoped the entire table would call him. Embrace him right then and there as their brother.

But his head knew better. That’s not how the table worked. They would have to vote it. Unanimous too. No seconding guessing. One decision. In. Out. Dead. Whatever.

Blaine left the clubhouse without his leather cut. To him, it was as good as being naked. It also sent a clear message to any enemies lurking. He was an easy target now.

That part Blaine didn’t give a shit about.

Truthfully, he just wanted to apologize to Jessa and make sure she was okay.





twelve.



Jessa held the trashcan a few inches off the floor. Of all the things she had to deal with in her day job and her life, she couldn’t stand throwing up. That crushing feeling against her ribs like her body was attacking itself. Which, in some ways, it was. The body getting rid of what it believed to be potentially dangerous. Designed to survive at any and all costs.

There was nothing left to throw up. It was just dry heaves by then.

She looked at the clock on her desk. It was just before eleven.

The office door opened and Terri froze in place.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Jessa said. She put the trashcan down and slid it under her desk with her foot. She grabbed a mint and popped it into her mouth. “What’s wrong?”

“I heard a noise. I thought you were crying.”

“No. Just… sitting here.”

“Okay. You have company.”

Jessa felt her heart drop. “Company?”

It’s not him. It’s not Vin. Vin is dead, remember? And it’s not Blaine. He made his position very clear. Plus, it’s been weeks now. If he was coming back…

“Jessa?” Terri asked.