Viper's Kiss (Back Down Devil MC #8)(27)

“What?”

“Did you hear me?”

“Yeah. I have company. Sure. I’ll be right there.”

The rest of the day went by in a blur.

All the days had been going by in a blur.

The moment Jessa came back, she had to meet with Dr. Ashland and local police to talk about what had happened with the office. The story had been predetermined and Jessa with it.

A crazed man broke into the office, seeking drugs. Yeah, some wackos did that. There were plenty of medicines for animals that could have interesting effects on humans. The guy was smart enough to tamper with the cameras so they had no footage. When the guy couldn’t find what he wanted, he broke into a cage and killed a cat.

It didn’t fit for what Terri had seen, but they kept her out of it. The way the police talked, it was obvious they had been in Vin’s hand. Jessa wondered why they were still doing this for him, even though he was dead. Then again, it was probably their last stand with him. Nobody would ever have to deal with Vin again.

The world would be a better place.

It didn’t feel that way though at all.

When Jessa got home from another long yet mundane day of work she climbed into a hot bath with a tall glass of wine. This had become the norm for her. She used to buy a bottle of wine, drink a glass or two, and end up dumping the rest down the drain because it would go bad before she could drink it. Now she was drinking four bottles a week. She was at the point that she tried to hide her face a little when she loaded up. What used to be a smile and an excuse - Oh, I’m having a party this weekend with friends! - became shameful eyes as she couldn’t stop herself.

The water and bubbles soothed her. She reached for her glass and brought it to her lips. She titled the glass back. The wine touched her lips. Then she stopped.

She took the glass from her mouth and stared at it.

She had been getting sick everyday at work.

“The wine,” she whispered.

Christ… one night with Blaine and she was a borderline alcoholic.

Jessa put the glass down and grumbled.

She then slowly lifted her leg up in the air. She splashed water at her inner thigh to wash away the bubbles. She put her heel on the edge of the tub and stared down at herself. There was still evidence of that night. Blaine had gone so hard at her that she had bruises on her inner thighs. The bruises didn’t hurt but there was still a faint yellow color where they had once been dark purple.

Nobody had ever done that to her before.

Her heart raced and ached at the same time.

She shouldn’t have let the night get away like it did. All she could think about was Meghan. Her best friend, murdered because she’d been engaged to Blaine. And Janey…

Jessa shut her eyes and started to weep.

Everything was a mess because of Blaine. Ever since that night with him, everything was just… her heart, her mind, her body.

He changed her with one night together.

All Jessa could hope for was that time would make him slip away.





thirteen.



The attacks were starting to get worse. Eight Under was pushing into the shithole part of Frelen more and more. They were dealing hardcore drugs, causing overdoses and violence. They were overcharging, undercutting, and leaving a tornado of problems that the PD couldn’t control. When the MC stepped in, the PD was there to push back.

Ethan had been to the clubhouse three times, questioning every member at least once, all pertaining to guns, fights, and two deaths. Luckily, the guys that were killed didn’t happen to be from Back Down Devil. They were also low life dealers who owed so much money to so many people, they’d never find out who did it.

But the club knew.

It was Eight Under MC.

They were fully reorganized and ready to go for the throat.

Blaine sat around his house, drinking and smoking. Every time Miller or Gaige called and said he needed to come to the table, he told them it wasn’t long enough. He wanted them to really consider it. He wasn’t looking for a f*cking favor at all. All Blaine wanted was the truth.

Women had been calling, sending wild pictures, begging to help Blaine get out of his funk.

This wasn’t a funk.

This was the worst guilt he ever felt.

All because one woman tried to crack through his shell and managed to make it happen.

A phone was ringing and Blaine waved his hand, swatting the sound away. He hit an empty bottle of whiskey and it fell to the floor, shattering. He jumped up and realized he was sitting at the kitchen table. His neck felt twisted and broken. He was sober, hungover, and he hated it.

The phone kept ringing and ringing.

Blaine flipped it open.

“What?” he growled.

“Get to the clubhouse,” Gaige yelled.

“Fuck off. It’s too soon.”

“Blaine, it’s been f*cking weeks. You’ve seen what’s been going on.”

“I know. I’ve been doing my part when I can.”

Which was true. Blaine had taken to the streets a handful of times to chase some of the Eight Under scum out of town. Of course, without his cut and without his crew, his power wasn’t all that great. Luckily, a bullet didn’t give a f*ck who you were loyal to. He managed to clip at least three of the guys that were poking around town.

“You need to be at this table,” Gaige said.