Bad Company: Company of Sinners MC #1

by Lisa J. Hobman

  Only him.

  No words were spoken as the tightening in my core grew more and more intense. I was so close to release…

  I sat suddenly. Alone in my own bed. Another damn dream.

  My chest was heaving and a sheen of glistening sweat covered my body. The throbbing pulse between my thighs was almost painful, and I squeezed my thighs together in the hope it would subside. Rubbing my hands over my face, I tried to calm my ragged breathing. This was getting ridiculous now. I was clearly becoming obsessed.

  There was nothing else for it. I needed to speak to Clara.

  Clara was my own therapist. It may sound ridiculous that I should need one, but believe me, even mental health professionals need someone to talk to sometimes. I had been seeing Clara for many years after suffering anxiety in my late teens—it subsequently turned out to be abandonment issues… well, the fact that my dad had fucked off when I was a kid. I went through a very long phase of being unable to trust. In fact, the phase was still hanging around in the background of our conversations. She was a newly qualified therapist back then and she had really helped me. If I trusted anyone, it was her. It seemed only natural to stay in touch with her, considering my chosen profession.

  Luckily I had her home number and knew she was a night owl, so I called immediately and made arrangements to see her the following day. Thankfully she was very understanding.

  I just had to decide how honest I was going to be.

  The following day I walked into Clara’s plush office and plopped down onto the comfy couch. She handed me a coffee and sat opposite me. As always she was impeccably dressed with her ash-blonde hair in a neat chignon. For a woman in her late forties, she looked a lot younger.

  “So, Kelly. What was so important that you had to telephone me at half eleven in the evening to make an appointment?” The question was simply inquisitive. She was direct and I liked that I knew where I stood with her. No pretence.

  I sighed and shook my head. “I’m so sorry about that, Clara. Really I am.”

  She held up her hands. “No apology needed. What I’m trying to get at is that something clearly has you on the run. This isn’t like you, Kelly. So… come on… spill it.”

  “Okay… there’s this man…”

  “Ah.” She raised her eyebrows and gave me a knowing look.

  “It’s not Dermott, before you say anything.”

  She held up her hands. “Hey, I’m not here to judge. You know my thoughts on your relationship with him.”

  “Hmm. You certainly don’t keep that a secret.”

  With a smile, she continued, “So… this man?”

  “Yes… this man… There’s this… how can I put it? There’s this attraction between us. Well, at least I get the distinct feeling it’s not entirely one sided. But… It’s not a relationship I can pursue.”

  Linking her fingers in her lap, she asked, “Why would that be? Are you putting up barriers again?”

  I shook my head and pulled my brows in. “No, it’s not like that this time. It’s…” Trying to explain without explaining too much created a flood of sensation from last night that made me squeeze my thighs together. “Let’s just say it wouldn’t be right.”

  “It’s someone from work.”

  I knew she meant a colleague, and a lie by omission wasn’t going to help me—but technically it wasn’t a big lie. He was at my place of work, after all. I nodded but couldn’t meet her gaze. She’d see right through me if I did.

  “The thing is, I can’t stop thinking about him. I’m even dreaming about him.” Mm, the way he thrust into my welcoming flesh just hours before… in my mind, anyway. I cleared my throat as I felt heat rush to my cheeks. “Quite explicit dreams too.”

  She nodded. “And you’re feeling guilty?”

  She knew me so well. “Very.”

  “Well, Kelly. You’re a healthy, sexual being with certain emotional as well as physical needs. If you’re attracted to this man, maybe it’d be possible to pursue a relationship outside of work but keep things professional inside of work?”

  I laughed at her audacity and the future consequences of what, unbeknownst to her, she was suggesting. “Clara! You’re not supposed to encourage such things!”

  She raised her hands again in surrender. “Look, I’m saying this as a friend, not your therapist. You’re an intelligent woman, Kelly. I know you could keep your head on straight at work. And if this man makes your sweet button hum, then maybe you need to see where it goes? Like I said, you have needs, hon. We all do.”

  My mind flicked back to what my thoughts had done to my ‘sweet button’ the night before, and I shuddered. “It’s… it’s not that simple. And what’s with the sweet button crap? Ugh! Cringe-worthy, Clara.” We both burst into laughter.

  “Kelly, I’ve known you for years. I do consider you a friend more than a client—which could be seen as incredibly unprofessional of me—” Oh the irony… “But I have to say I’m in favour of anything that draws you from the unhealthy relationship you have with Dermott. It’s almost as if you’re with him because you’re scared to allow yourself to feel. As if you’re scared to even try with anyone outside of this little comfort zone you’ve created with your fuck buddy. If that’s the case, we really need to address that… or I can refer you on if you wouldn’t feel comfortable chatting to me about it.” I loved the fact that she could be so blunt with me. I wouldn’t have that with anyone else. Being referred was totally out of the question.

  “No… no it’s fine. I think… I think maybe you’re right. I… I watched my parents rip each other apart emotionally whilst I was growing up and… the more my mother tried to make it work…” A lump lodged in my tightening throat. “The more my father pulled away. His cheating and leaving just compounded my worries of getting too close to people, I suppose.” I felt tears escape my eyes and trickle down my cheeks. This was not a subject I readily talked about. Not even with Clara.

  “Oh, Kelly, honey… I think we have our answer right there.” Her voice was soft and her eyes filled with concern. “Look… I’m taking off my therapist’s hat again for a moment. Listen to me when I tell you this from personal experience. You can’t go through life comparing every man to your father. Some men stick around and are worth the risk. Try to remember that. And someday you’ll meet someone who isn’t unattainable, and you’ll let yourself fall in love. I just wish you would allow yourself to take the risk whilst you’re still young.”

  Of course she was right, but my memories of being a ten-year-old girl watching as my dad walked out the door without looking back, never to be seen again, had left me scarred emotionally. I had major trust issues. It was true. So why the hell was I drawn to someone who could potentially test my boundaries to the nth degree? I had no idea.

  After spending an hour there, I left Clara’s office with a smile on my face. Hearing myself explain the situation—even though I wasn’t exactly honest—made me realise how stupid I was being. A weight had been lifted from my shoulders, and I walked into work humming to myself and ready to face whatever the day threw at me with renewed vigour.

  The infatuation I had been feeling was just that. Infatuation. And as someone qualified in such matters, I knew that obsessing about things or people simply led to heartache and trouble. In that moment I was determined to push my feelings aside. I was his doctor and he needed me. And despite the way he acted around me and the intense sexuality oozing from his every pore, I would resist. I have to. I really, really have to. As I repeated those words like a mantra, I mused as to why something in the back of my mind told me I was trying a little too hard to convince myself.

  Chapter Four

  Cameron

  A pretty young woman with dark hair and blue eyes sobbed and screamed, “No!” as a faceless someone in black behind her restrained her by the arms. She was flailing but her efforts were futile. Her petite frame was no match for the hulk holding her captive. Someone else struck me over and over with rock-hard fists. Jabbi
ng jagged knuckles into every available patch of skin. I couldn’t see their faces. Only hers. It broke my heart to see her in so much distress. How could they let her see this? Why would they do this to her? She didn’t deserve this. She shouldn’t even be involved. Nausea crept over me in a wave as pain racked my body. Blow after unforgiving blow jarred me and rendered me speechless. I wanted to shout at them to let her go. To get her out of there. But the air had left my lungs and the words wouldn’t come…

  And so began another day in my new version of hell. It followed another night of disturbing dreams. It was becoming the norm to wake and find a concerned middle-aged woman standing over me. Patty had replaced Annie as my nurse in the psych ward and I was rapidly growing fond of her. She was a sweet woman. Kind of motherly. I liked that about her. It was as if I hadn’t experienced anything like that in a very long time.

  “That was some nightmare you were having, hon. I was on the verge of getting the doctor to come and sedate you again.”

  I closed my eyes briefly but as soon as I did, I saw the young, dark-haired woman’s tearstained face so I immediately opened them again. “That bad, huh?”

  Patty nodded. “Yes, that bad, love. Can you remember anything of the nightmare?”

  I shook my head. She wasn’t the person I needed to share it with. Doctor Darrow was no doubt conversant in the subconscious meanings of dreams. I’d wait and tell her when I saw her.

  “Do you think you might be up to a little walk today?” Patty asked. “You really need to start getting up and about.”

  I scrunched my brow. “Where would we be going?”

  “You need to have your meeting with Doctor Darrow.”

  Bingo. Doctor McSexy. My day was set to improve. “Okay. Yeah, I guess I could manage that. Will you be with me?”

  “Of course, love. Wouldn’t leave you in case you fell. I’ll collect you afterwards too.”

  “Great. Thank you.”

  “Your clothes have been laundered and I’ve placed them on the chair for you. Your catheter was removed as you slept. No man likes to experience that event when conscious. Are you up to washing yourself?”

  My cheeks heated at the thought of a sponge bath by the nurse who was old enough to be my mom. “Yeah, I think I’ll manage, thanks.” The images were suddenly replaced by those of a certain sexy Scottish doctor leaning over me, half naked, cleavage glistening with droplets of water as she soaped up my chest and abs with a soaking-wet cloth. She dragged her nails over my nipples, and my dick hardened as I was filled with a need to lick the drips from her skin.

  I was brought back to earth with a severe thud as the nurse’s voice broke through my erotic fantasy—one I would save for later use—as she said, “Great. I’ll bring you something to eat whilst you wash and get dressed, and then I’ll take you to see her once you’ve eaten. Take it steady though, okay? Push the red emergency button if you get into any difficulty. I’ll be just out here when I come back.”

  Patty left the room, and I stood on weak limbs to go and wash myself in the adjacent bathroom. I looked for the door lock but strangely there wasn’t one. Dizziness came over me and as I waited for it to pass, I stood clutching the sink, looking in the mirror at my vaguely familiar reflection. I examined my tattoos closely. They were a mixture of text and pictures. Some of the symbols looked like some kind of foreign language and I had no clue what they said. The intricacy of some of the detail told me that I must have been in the artist’s chair for hours. Some were brightly coloured and depicted people. The word Cosmic with a woman draped over it in a sultry pose had me running my fingers over the lettering. Who was she? Someone significant? Or just some random busty woman put there for my titillation?

  The hollowed eyes of a skull stared out at me from my shoulder, and its menacing, skinless grin held my attention for a few moments as I searched around my mind for something… anything—but none brought to mind anything that cleared up who I was. I concentrated on my features. Shaggy hair, almost collar length, that clearly hadn’t been cut in a while… thick stubble around my jaw… blue eyes that looked a little sunken and were surrounded by dark circles. My shoulders were broad and there wasn’t much flesh on my muscular torso that wasn’t covered in ink. I stared into the eyes of my reflection, desperately trying to bring my name to mind. But the only name that came to me was… Rosa. And that sure as hell wasn’t my name, so who the fuck was Rosa and why was that the only name I could recall? Was she the girl in my dream? Who the hell knew? Not me.

  Once I was freshened up, I dressed in the clothes that were on the chair. They smelled of fresh laundry detergent and fit me, but I didn’t recognise them. Dark jeans with no goddamn belt and a plain black T-shirt.

  Very understated.

  When I stepped out of the bathroom, I noticed a breakfast tray by the bed and Patty sitting in the corner smiling. I devoured the omelette like it was my last meal. The coffee wasn’t great, bitter and poor quality; but the fruit juice tasted good.

  Patty walked over and gestured to the tray as if to ask if I was done. I grabbed the napkin and nodded. She removed the tray and placed it on the chair by the door. “You’re looking a little brighter. I would’ve brought you a razor but… well… it’s against policy. The risk and everything.” She cringed.

  I scrunched my face for what felt like the millionth time. “Risk? What risk?”

  Patty’s face turned carefully blank, but then she smiled warmly in what I guessed was reassurance. “Let me take you to Doctor Darrow. From tomorrow you’ll be okay to eat with the others. That’ll be better for you.” I got the feeling she was purposefully avoiding answering any of my questions.

  I stood and shuffled toward the door, wiping my mouth on the paper napkin that came with my food, and then dropped it onto the tray before I gripped Patty’s offered arm of support. We slowly walked down the hospital corridor and she gestured for me to sit on a chair outside a blue office door. It was closed, with a silver plaque that read Dr K. M. Darrow.

  Patty knocked on the door and stepped inside. I heard her mumble something to Doctor Darrow before she came out and gestured for me to enter. Walking into the room, I looked out the window and got my first glimpse of the world beyond the hospital walls. The view of a vast bridge and the town and scenery beyond was impressive but not at all familiar.

  “Hello there. Please… have a seat,” The sexy auburn-haired woman said from a couch at the far side of the large, multipurpose room. I slowly and shakily walked over. I must’ve looked as if I was approaching a deadly creature, but the truth was, my legs felt as if they may give way at any minute. I slumped onto the couch opposite her.

  “Hi… Doctor Darrow, isn’t it?” I smiled, hoping that she’d acquired amnesia over my behaviour the last time we met.

  “That’s correct.” She exuded professionalism; gone was the friendly bedside manner from before. Perhaps she was building a wall so that I couldn’t intimidate her again. I couldn’t blame her really. She reached for a notepad and pen and placed them on her lap. Today it was grey slacks and a fitted cream blouse that hugged her shapely tits. Her hair was pinned up on her head and her glasses were perched on her nose. Every bit the stereotypical sultry shrink. My mind began to torture me with erotic, fabricated mental images of her and me together. I swallowed hard.

  Chapter Five

  Kelly

  Patient McHandsome—as Annie had nicknamed the mysterious man from room 4 in ICU—sat before me on the two-seater leather couch. His thick thighs naturally parted in a masculine wide stance. I reached down and touched my alarm—mostly to remind myself of my decision to respect my code of ethics and keep my hands off him—and a sense of relief washed over me. I watched as he fiddled with his nails and glanced nervously around the room. He was a far cry from the intimidating man of the day before, and so I relaxed a little more.

  “So… Have you remembered any further details about the reason for your presence here?” I asked him. His eyes flicked up to meet mine and I in
haled sharply, immediately feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. Yesterday when I’d had that intense encounter with him, I’d seen a totally different glint in his eyes. Now sitting before me, looking a little afraid, his eyes were the most vivid, electric shade; almost cerulean. They didn’t look real. I was taken aback by them.

  Lost in them even.

  What could I do to make myself stop wanting him?

  He broke eye contact and smiled down at his hands. “Not a damn thing, ma’am.”

  Shit… has he just read my mind? My heart picked up its pace and a flush of blood heated my cheeks. Oh… hang on… it’s okay, he was answering my question. Fighting an audible sigh of relief, I cleared my throat. “Okay. Firstly I need to assess your emotional and mental well-being. This is done by the use of a questionnaire. I need you to be completely honest and not to think about the answers too much. If I’m going to be able to help you, I need you to trust me. And then I need to discuss a couple of matters with you. It may be a little disturbing to hear what I have to tell you, but… I need to talk to you about these issues all the same.”

  He took a deep breath and seemed to brace himself for what I had to say. Leaning back a little, I tilted my head to one side. Despite my promise, I couldn’t help but notice how ruggedly masculine he was, viewed from any angle. I squeezed my thighs together, mentally reprimanded myself, and began to reel off question after question. “Would you say that since you gained consciousness you have had any feelings of hopelessness?” I gave him the list of answers to choose from:

  a) not at all

  b) some of the time

  c) most of the time

  d) all of the time

  He nodded and began to answer with a firm determination as I bombarded him with one question after another. His answers were surprisingly positive, considering the circumstances in which he had been found; and the more I listened to him talk, the more I felt that there was a great chance that he had not attempted to take his own life.