Viper's Kiss (Back Down Devil MC #8)(75)

Her heart was beating like normal. Not fast, not weak.

Jett crouched down and kept the chick’s hair out of her face. He stroked her cheek with a little more care than he wanted to give her.

“Hey,” he said. “Wake up. Come on. You have no clue where you are right now. Don’t make me call the…”

There was a siren in the distance.

“Oh, f*ck,” Blaine said. “That bitch of a bartender called the police for real.”

“Fuck,” Jace said. “We have to ride.”

“What the f*ck do I do?” Jett asked. “Just throw her to the ground?”

“What’s the difference?” Jace asked. “She’s drunk. She’ll sleep it off and wake up when she feels it. Or the cops will find her. Don’t get involved.”

Jett grabbed the woman by the jaw and shook her. “Hey! Cops are coming! Wake the f*ck up!”

The chick didn’t move. Completely lifeless… except for the normal heartbeat.

“This is f*cked,” Jett growled. “Just what we f*cking need right now.”

The sirens started to close in.

“They’re coming,” Blaine said. “Chief will get pissed if we’re here hanging around at a scene.”

“Fine,” Jett said.

He grabbed the woman under her armpits. He told himself not to think of how close his hands were to her tits. That would be so f*cking wrong to do. That was Blaine’s territory, sleeping chicks and all. Not Jett. They needed to be f*cking awake and somewhat coherent.

Jett pulled the chick from his ride and lifted her up. He then slowly spun her to put her on the ground on her back. He knew he would need to turn her head in case she threw up, or else she’d choke on her own vomit. But as he laid her down, he looked at her stomach and let out a groan.

“Blood,” he said. “Fuck, man, f*ck.”

“Christ,” Jace said. “She’s stabbed…”

The sirens were even closer.

“What the f*ck do we do now?” Blaine asked.

Jett had two options. He could put the chick down and leave her be. Hope she wouldn’t bleed out and die. (Run the risk of having his fingerprints on her and having this mess somehow get tied back to him.) Or he could somehow prop her up on his motorcycle and get her to the clubhouse.

Nice guy or dick guy.

“Fuck,” he yelled. “We have to get her to the clubhouse. Just to check her. Make sure she’s going to live. Then we can drop her off at a hospital or something. I don’t know. I can’t leave her like this.”

“You’re in love with her already,” Blaine said and laughed.

“Help me figure this out,” Jett growled.

He stuck two fingers to her neck again and checked her pulse. Still good. Still strong.

The chick started to stir a little and Jett put his lips to her ear. “I’m not going to hurt you, beautiful. I’m trying to save you. I need you to fight and ride with me on my motorcycle.”

Her lips fluttered for a second and that was it. She didn’t move again. She didn’t turn her head again. But her pulse was still there.

“We have to hurry,” Jett said. “She’s f*cking bleeding out.”

Just what I need… some bitch to die in my arms.





three.



ONE HOUR EARLIER



Lena took the knife from the butcher’s block and turned, swinging it in the air.

I can do this. I can survive this. I can…

She dropped the knife. It landed, pointed down, in the cheap, linoleum floor, an inch from her big toe. She looked at the chipped orange nail polish on her toe and the knife.

Her hands were shaking already.

“Lena?” a voice called out.

“Hold on…”

“Dear, what is… oh, my…”

“It’s okay, Annie,” Lena said.

Annie looked at the knife and then Lena. “Did you cut yourself, dear?”

“No, I didn’t,” Lena said. She held up her hands and showed them to Annie. “See? All good. I just… my hand must have been wet. The knife slid out and hit the floor.”

Annie touched her cheek and then touched the cross around her neck. “Well thank the Lord you didn’t cut yourself. Or drop the knife on your foot. Oh, dear, that would have…”

“It’s okay,” Lena said. “I’ll be right in, okay?”

“Okay,” Annie said. “Yell if you need my help.”

Annie shuffled away and Lena let out a needed sigh. She helped poor Annie a few times a week because everything was connected within the family. That’s how Victor had put it a long time ago. When the family needs something, we take care of it.

That was a time when Lena maybe liked Victor. Okay, fine, maybe there was love. A flicker of love between them. Just because there was something about Victor and the power he had. Stupid money and stupid power. Men flaunting that shit like it mattered and woman dumb like Lena falling for it. The same vicious cycle over and over.

What had started as a fun little date, turned into a second and third date, turned into Lena spending a weekend in a hotel room with Victor. She eventually was let into his violent world. He told Lena he was doing it because he loved her, because he wanted her to see what it was like to be him. In truth, Victor showed her violence to keep her tame. To make it so she couldn’t leave him because the violence would then turn to her. Victor was handsome in a clean cut way. He had manipulative eyes and a manipulative smile, but worse than that, his heart was the most manipulative thing about him. There was no such thing as emotion. He just ran with his environment and came out alive. Because if it all fell apart, he would bring out the muscle. And not his own, which he didn’t have much of. Victor’s muscle was in the form of weapons, or thug bullies, that wore suits. The guys were massive and they’d always take their suit jackets off before hurting someone. Under the suit jackets they wore guns and sleeveless shirts.