Viper's Kiss (Back Down Devil MC #8)(79)

Jett stood from the bed and tried to figure out what to do. The blood on her shirt wasn’t hers. Gently, Jett lifted the woman’s shirt and found soft, smooth, clean skin.

“Lena,” Jace said. “I’ve got a note written to her. Handwritten note.”

“License?” Jett asked. “Address? Cell?”

“I don’t see a license. She has a wallet. Credit cards, some cash… lots of junk.”

“Typical chick,” Blaine said.

“What do we do now?” Jace asked.

“I’m going to get her out of these clothes,” Jett said.

“Fuck yeah,” Blaine said. “Let’s get her naked, man.”

Jett looked back and curled his lip. “Bro, no. It’s not that. That’s not how it works. Okay?”

“To me it does,” Blaine said. He rubbed his hands together and smiled.

Jace put a hand to Blaine’s chest. “Why don’t you go get a drink and a blowjob?”

“I can do that,” Blaine said.

“Why don’t you both go blow each other?” Jett asked.

Jace pushed at Jett’s back. “Fuck you, man.”

Jett spun around, fist cocked. Blaine jumped in and stopped the two hot heads from tearing each other up.

“Whoa,” Blaine said. “Deep breaths, guys.”

“Fuck him,” Jett said.

“Fuck you right back,” Jace spat. “I’d tell you to come to the table and talk to Miller but you’re not welcome there, are you?”

Jett gritted his teeth. “Get out of here.”

“What the f*ck is wrong with you?” Jace asked.

“She was on my ride,” Jett said. “Was that a message to me? To the club? And whose blood is on her? Let me clean the chick up and see if she wakes up. If not, we have to get her to a hospital.”

“Fuck that,” Jace said.

“Listen,” Blaine said. “We’ll talk to Miller. We’ll talk to Chief Jerry if we have to. Nobody is getting in trouble for this shit.”

“Just give me a minute,” Jett said. “Alone.”

Blaine and Jace left.

Jett shook his head and took a deep breath. He threw the middle finger at the closed door, then set his sights back to the woman on the bed.

Lena.

That was her name.

“Lena,” Jett said. He touched her cheek. “Can you hear me? My name is Jett. I’m going to get you out of these bloody clothes. I’m not going to do anything to you, I promise. I need you to listen to me and maybe wake the f*ck up.”

There was no response nor movement from Lena.

Jett reached down and slipped his hand to the back of her neck. He slowly lifted her, sitting her up. He crouched down and let Lena fall against him. He grabbed the bottom of her shirt and lifted. Working it up and then carefully pulling each arm through, Jett couldn’t remember the last time he was even this tender with a woman, or taking her clothing off.

It pissed him off that he felt like this right now. Taking a bloody shirt off a pretty woman and he was getting hot and bothered by it. Things had just spiraled that far out of control for him lately. Ever since Ada had been murdered, things were just off. Not that he loved Ada. Or even cared about her. Fuck, he only missed her *. But there was plenty of that out in the clubhouse.

Jett cradled the back of Lena’s head, fingers dug into her hair as he worked her shirt over her head. Just in case there was something wrong with her neck he didn’t want to add to it. Logic had him reversing all these decisions and just taking the chick to the hospital. But history provided Jett with something else. Doctors, lawyers, judges, police, it was all the same bullshit. Life was easier to just figure it out on your own.

Still holding Lena’s head in his left hand, he pulled her toward his chest. With his right hand he balled up the shirt and dropped it to the floor. He touched her side - bare skin - and eased her back to the bed. His fingertips tingled at her warm touch. Her bra was solid black, her breasts looking full and even delicious in it.

Jett turned his head and let out a breath. His hand touched the top of her jeans and he hurried to take his hands off her body. Jett then stood up and made fists.

“You really f*cked up my night, Lena,” he growled.

Jett turned and went to the closet. He learned at a young age to keep bags of supplies wherever he could find them. The closet in the room being such a place. He had a black bag in the closet with a few changes of clothes, a knife, and a gun. He wasn’t going for the knife or the gun in this case.

With a black shirt in hand, Jett stood. He went back to the bed and dropped the shirt next to Lena. He reached down and took her by the shoulders. Slowly he lifted her yet again. This time, her eyes fluttered and then opened. She let out a gasp and looked ready to scream.

“Hey, hey, hey, beautiful, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m Jett… okay?”

“Jett,” Lena whispered. She licked her lips.

Sweet, little lips…

“Are you hurt anywhere? Do you remember what happened?”

“Where am I?” Lena asked.

“A room. You’re safe.”

Lean reached up and touched Jett’s leather. Her fingers ran along the ridges, the stitching, the patches on the front…