by Riley, C. L.
They’d been in to meet their “mother” once, but I’d kept them away since then. The first visit had been a disaster. Olympia, aka Sally, had taken one look at them and burst into tears.
I’d informed her that she was twenty-eight and had given birth to Joey at fifteen. She hadn’t taken that well, particularly when I mentioned what a whore she’d been back then, forcing me to take a paternity test. Adding to her confusion, at her true age of twenty-two, she looked nowhere near two years shy of thirty, but I’d had to improvise to make the math work. I had a feeling I’d be doing a whole lot of improvising in the days ahead. It was a good thing I counted creativity and quick thinking as two of my top skills.
I somehow doubted the ‘real’ Olympia would appreciate my self-proclaimed ingenuity. Every lie I told was another reason for her to despise me.
Today was her first day up and around. Everyone had been instructed to refer her back to me for answers about her past or present situation. Thankfully, the club was, for the most part, empty right now, making conversations easier to monitor.
I also had to keep her away from TV and any local media, as she was still the front page story. At least the photo they were flashing on the news looked nothing like Olympia at the moment. I’d convinced her to die her hair back to blonde after seeing how they were posting images of her with red hair. She’d agreed without argument. That was a first. I doubted her agreeability would last long.
Right now, I had other things to worry about. It was time to get my lying and deceiving show on the road.
I rested a hand on each boy’s shoulder. “You two go in first. I’ll be right behind you. Give her some serious hugs.”
At thirteen, Joey loved the whole scheme I’d devised to put Olympia in her place. Being just eight, Jordon Vance liked the idea of a temporary mom. He couldn’t have been happier. It was good to see them both smiling, for any reason. At last we had a project we were in on together - family bonding at its best.
“Now remember. I gave her clothes she’s going to hate.” I chuckled at the thought of her new biker-bitch wardrobe. I wondered what she’d chosen for her first day out of the sick room.
“That’s kind of mean, Dad,” JV admonished. “What if she leaves?”
“Son, she can’t leave. She doesn’t know who she is or where she is. She’s in danger and under our protection. Just go with me on this, all right?”
He nodded, pushing his chest out. “Maybe she likes art.”
Joey sneered, staring down at his younger brother with obvious disgust. “You’re such a little sissy.”
“Enough! Let’s just get this party over, and then you two can head to school. Grinch is taking you in the Humvee.”
“Yes!” Joey fist punched the air, forgetting he was in the middle of bullying JV. “I call shotgun.”
“Good,” JV agreed. “More room in the back for me.”
“You two got it all worked out?” I didn’t wait for their answers. Instead I knocked on the door that had become Olympia’s room. She would be moving to mine today, and the boys would be staying with Grinch temporarily, until we figured out our housing status. He was one of the few guys who didn’t have a female parade marching through his room, and he lived fulltime at the club. He wasn’t a big partier either, another plus.
My kids would rather stay with Grinch than me, anyway. Maybe I should be upset about that fact, but I wasn’t. As long as they were happy, I could live with the arrangement - at least for now.
“Come in,” Olympia called, her voice filled with anxiety that I’d never once detected when she’d known her real identity.
I guessed sudden motherhood was a good enough reason for her to feel worried. Near murder misses weren’t real confidence builders either. Add in memory loss and I’d be anxious too. Over all, though, everything considered, she was handling things well, couldn’t fault her for that.
“Go on,” I prompted, giving Joey a push.
The boys entered ahead of me. “Mom!” they chorused, sounding surprisingly happy to see her.
Like I’d instructed, they charged, flinging their arms around her. She stiffened, but managed to hug them back, listening as they rattled off their plans for the day.
Once again, I had to give her credit, she was a trooper. She never once complained about her injuries, and she’d put up with my constant sexist jabs, and tormenting jokes. The Olympia Olsen I knew would have slapped me across the face and written a letter. She probably would have found a way to sue me too. Maybe she still would.
I shuddered at the thought of her memory returning. She’d hate me for sure, like she didn’t already.
“Okay, boys! Stop mauling your mother. This is her first day back from zombie land. Go down to the kitchen and have Tinker get you some breakfast before school. Don’t keep Grinch waiting.”
“Bye, Mom.” Joey gave her a chin life that reminded me way too much of myself and headed out. JV lingered.
I canted my head, urging him to go. He chose to ignore me.
“Can we color after school, Mom?”
Her gaze slid my direction. I could see the question marks forming. She didn’t even know if we had crayons and coloring books.
I nodded. I didn’t have to be a complete dick.
She gave me a cautious smile before turning her attention back to JV.
“Sure, honey. We’ll color. You go eat like your dad said. I’ll see you after school.” She gave him a little squeeze and he beamed.
I forgot sometimes he was only eight and still missed Rita like crazy. Add in a mean older brother and a distant father, and the kid was soaking up attention where he could get it.
He leaned in for another hug. This time, she wrapped him in her arms and held on tight. My gut clenched. Seeing them embrace like that was harder than I’d expected. It forced me to face just how little I knew about my boys, JV in particular. Losing their mom had impacted them far more than I’d allowed myself to consider.
I shoved those thoughts aside. It wasn’t the right time to dredge them up. My guilt wasn’t going anywhere. I’d deal with it later. I was too busy running the scam of a lifetime.
“Go on! Let your mom get moving. She’s got her chores to do, and I need to show her around.”
“Bye Mom!” he yelled, dashing out the door, his feet pounding down the stairs to the main floor.
“I could have fixed them breakfast,” Olympia said, looking unsure.
“Another day. Today’s your first real day back. We’ve got a lot to cover.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I fully absorbed what she was wearing.
She’d worked hard to find the most conservative combination; even so, she looked like a biker babe princess. It took all my willpower to keep from stripping her sexy ensemble right off, and fucking her on the bed she’d been resting in for days.
“Do I always dress so … so like this, to do housework?”
“Fuck, Sally. I keep forgetting you don’t remember. You love to show off your hot body. The guys will love what you’ve picked today.”
That was no lie.
A spear of jealousy stabbed through me at the thought of anyone checking her out. I had to remember this was a game. She wasn’t my old lady or wife, and I was getting back at her for the nasty letter, and the fact she’d been awful to everyone, me included, for way too long. She was “working off” the amount of money she’d planned on not paying me.
Fair was fair.
So why did I feel so guilty? First my boys, now her; I needed a straight shot.
“Seriously, my wardrobe isn’t practical.” She glanced down at herself.
Following her lead, I took my time and scanned her from head to toe. My desire for a drink rapidly switched back to the need to bury myself between her legs. She looked fucking fantastic.
Her hair was a darker blonde than its original color. It fell in loose waves over her shoulders. Tanned, even after a week away from her private pool, her skin looked good, healthy. Fading shadows under her e
yes, a healing scrape on her cheek and light bruise on her forehead, were the only things marring her exquisite features. She’d used the new makeup Wolf’s old lady, Harmony, had picked up. It was evident she hadn’t forgotten how to apply cosmetics.
The faded jeans she’d chosen looked like they’d been painted on, over her curves. She had paired them with a breast-hugging Harley Davidson T-shirt, but it was the spike heeled boots that made the look come together.
Olympia Olsen wore biker-bitch well, better than any female I’d ever seen. My cock thought so too, hardening to the point of discomfort. I’d never been more grateful for an un-tucked t-Shirt that conveniently camouflaged my otherwise conspicuous arousal. I swallowed hard.
“Sally, babe. You’re married to a biker. You look perfect.” I was aiming for an insult, but ended up complimenting her instead.
I was rewarded with a shaky smile and cheeks that flushed crimson, making her look both sweet, and sexy as hell - a lethal combination.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes widening.
Fuck. Hating her was harder than I’d anticipated, especially when she looked at me like I was her life preserver in a stormy sea.
Tearing my gaze from hers, I forced myself to remember her nasty letter, condescending attitude, and overall pre-amnesia bitchiness. With those things in mind, I pulled the chore list I’d created from my pocket.
“Okay, we need to focus,” I ground out. More like, I need to think about something besides hauling your sweet ass to bed and making you scream my name. “Lots to do and we’re already behind,” I added, sounding gruffer than I’d intended.
She nodded and extended her hand, accepting the list. She looked it over before raising her eyes, reminding me of a lost puppy. “You’ll need to show me where to go. I’m sorry. I hate not remembering.”
Once again, she was pulling on heartstrings I didn’t even realize existed. Apparently I wasn’t as ‘badass’, as I’d always believed. I cleared my throat.
“That’s why I’m home today. Let me show you our room. Your new clothes and other stuff are already put away.”
I guided her down the hallway, eager for her to see what I’d done. I didn’t tell her, but I’d actually bought a few fake plants, new sheets, a bunch of pillows, and a fluffy comforter. I’d added bunk beds against the far wall for Joey and JV. They hadn’t seen the new setup either. I was dreading the sure-to-come battle for the top bunk. Though the way things were going, they’d probably sleep with Grinch more than us.
After Rita’s death, Bones had given me and the boys the biggest room in the clubhouse, the one usually reserved for the president. It was at the end of the second floor hall and had both a shower, and tub. I’d tried to argue, but he’d insisted. For once, I was glad he’d stood his ground. The extra space was going to come in handy.
I opened the door for Olympia. She brushed by and circled the room, running her hand over the bed. “It’s new,” she stated simply. “Why did you buy new bedding?”
Her question surprised me. “Why not? You deserve nice things. Our house burned down and we’re stuck here for now. I wanted …”
She turned to face me. “I love it. Thank you, but is it normal for bikers to live at their clubhouse?”
It occurred to me she knew nothing about the workings of a MC. “Let me give you the short version of club life. Most of the brothers have their own places, but some stay here on a permanent basis. Other rooms are open for guests, or members who need a room for the short term. The club officers all have a private room if they want one. I’m the vice president of the Soul Scorchers MC.”
“That’s important?” she asked, sounding at least a little impressed.
“I’m next in command after the prez, who happens to be my father, Bones. Doesn’t always work that way with family, but I grew up around the club and wanted to join as soon as I could. I still had to prospect and earn my patch. Had to be voted VP.”
She joined me on the couch and I spent the next thirty minutes highlighting club life, and our legitimate businesses. She asked questions and seemed genuinely interested. All was going great until we came to the whole women in the club thing. I explained that I’d claimed her as my old lady, and things got ugly fast. I caught a glimpse of the amnesia-free Olympia Olsen. Sweet Sally took a backseat, letting Olympia drive the conversation.
“So, basically you’re telling me women are second class citizens and you ‘own’ me. I don’t think so. I can appreciate your authority and position, but I’m not your property; I’m your partner, your wife, and the mother of our children.”
“Sweet cheeks, it’s not like that.”
“I’d like it if you stopped calling me sweet cheeks. I’m not some slut.”
“Oh, but you were a slut, remember?” I needed to regain control of the situation fast.
She visibly blanched. “I was fifteen. I’m twenty-eight. How long are you planning to hold my past behavior against me? And it seems a little hypocritical, don’t you think? I thought we had an open relationship and enjoyed sex with other people. Or is that one sided too?”
I sighed, running my fingers through my hair. “Here are the rules. Rules you agreed with, I might add, before your unfortunate accident. I fuck who I want when I want. You ask permission, and I decide who you fuck besides me. Together we swing with other couples and do the occasional three-way.
You like sex. I like sex. We belong to an exclusive BDSM club, and you have always been onboard with our relationship. I call the shots, babe. Get used to it.”
Her lips tightened. “Fine. I guess I have a lot to relearn. Do all biker men cheat and boss their women around?”
The way she said “biker men” made me want to laugh, but I kept my expression serious. “Not all of them. Every couple is different. I’ll explain more when we have time. Mostly you’ll just learn as you go. For now, let’s start your chore list and get you back on your regular schedule. Maybe following your routine will motivate your memory.”
I sure as hell hoped not, because if she thought things were bad now, she was in for a worse shock if she figured out the truth.
Gripping her list, she swished out the door, giving me a great view of her firm ass.
She glanced over her shoulder. “Are you looking at my butt?”
I raised my hands in surrender. “You caught me, babe. When it comes to your ass, I’m always looking.”
Olympia
I’d just finished the second-to-last item on my “light duty” chore list and was delivering Boone his third whiskey, minimal ice, when what had to be at least a handful of motorcycles roared into the outside lot, making the ground rumble beneath my feet.
Boone had shown me the large parking area where he and his “brothers” parked their Harleys. He’d promised me a ride on his bike next week, once the doctor released me for more activities. The thought of thundering down the highway on some two-wheeled contraption sounded almost as terrifying as the fact I’d have my body pressed against his, arms wrapped around his hard abs. That picture sent an undeniable thrill through me, confirming I had to be certifiably insane.
How could I even want to touch someone who treated me like a glorified maid and sex toy that he could take out and share when he felt like it?
I still couldn’t believe I’d willingly signed up for this life. The one positive interaction of my day, had been coloring with my youngest son, Jordon Vance; JV to everyone else. What a sweetheart.
His older brother, my other son, Joey, was too much like his father. The gleam in his eyes told me everything I needed to know. He would be breaking girls’ hearts and causing trouble, the bail-him-out-of-jail kind of trouble, before long.
At least for now, my parenting duties were limited. While Boone was helping me readjust to “club life,” the boys were spending most of their time with Grinch, a scary, bearded man that reminded me of a serial killer. For all I knew, he was one. The boys seemed to like him, though.
“Babe, remember what I to
ld you. This final job is the most important. Working the bar is an honor. Tinker will give you a hand if you need it, and you won’t be making any fancy drinks, mostly beers and straight shots. Got it?” Boone interrupted my thoughts.
I saluted him rather than responding. He was my drill sergeant, after all.
He gave me a smirk and lifted his brow. “Is that attitude you’re giving me, Mrs. Richards? Do you need to be punished?”
God. Why did he have to be so damn sexy? And the way he said punished, made my lady parts tingle in anticipation.
Before I could come up with a smart comeback, the steel door swung open, and a biker parade marched in - more like stalked in. They looked like predators that’d just been released from prison, ready to rape, plunder, and pillage. Most of them glanced between Boone and me. A couple grinned, but several looked pissed
There were a few women, too. They openly sized me up. One in particular; an attractive brunette with an outfit that made mine look like something a nun would wear, narrowed her eyes. It appeared I had made an enemy. Of course I couldn’t remember who she was, or why she hated me.
I gulped and fought the urge to run up to our room.
Seeing my reaction, Boone tossed back his drink and laughed. “Don’t look so scared, sweet cheeks, the guys love you.”
Great, I was loved by criminals.
Despite the impressive list of legitimate business ventures the club was involved in, ones that Boone had taken time to explain during our “get acquainted with the Soul Scorchers” introductory session, I had no doubt they were filling their wallets with dirty money from other, not so legal undertakings. He’d made it clear that women didn’t ask about “club business,” especially in a public setting. If I had questions, I was to go to Boone, no one else. He’d determine what I could and couldn’t know.
As mad as I was about his ridiculous rules, I was grateful when he rose from his chair at the bar and came around to the backside, to stand next to me. He gave me a reassuring pat on the ass, not the gesture I would have chosen, but at this point any effort to calm my raging nerves was appreciated.