Bad Company: Company of Sinners MC #1

by Lisa J. Hobman

  “Hell yeah,” I muttered under my breath—or so I thought—but she stopped dead and turned around, fixing me with a hard, cold stare.

  “Hurry along now, Mister Iss,” she hissed. Okay, so there wasn’t going to be an imminent repeat of our last meeting. Fuck.

  “Okay, okay keep your panties on.” I chuckled. But again my sense of humour was far from appreciated. Her responding pursed-lipped death stare almost burned holes in my head and told me I’d better keep my jokes to myself in future.

  I followed her until we reached her office. She stepped inside and held the door open for me and I kept my gaze fixed on hers as I walked into the room. But once she had closed the door, she looked away and went to sit behind her desk. Oh… so we’re behaving all professional now, are we?

  “Please take a seat.” She gestured to the chair opposite which afforded her a large wooden barrier between us. I reluctantly sat.

  With what I hoped to be an innocent smile, I tilted my head to one side, trying to look cute. “I’m guessing you didn’t invite me in here for an encore, huh?”

  She sighed and removed her glasses, placed them on her desk, and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. “I did inform you that what happened was a mistake. There will be no repeats. And most certainly not after what has been discovered.”

  Huh? Suddenly I was all ears. “What do you mean ‘after what’s been discovered’?”

  “Your DNA seems to match that of a known criminal in California.”

  Her words were like a blow to my solar plexus. “Oh, fuck… no way.” My worst fears had been realised. I really was a badass piece of work. I had hoped my gut feelings had been misplaced, but I was so wrong.

  “The police will want to speak with you again. There are no warrants out for your arrest at present, but it seems there is a history of offences that go way back. Most of them related to…” She swallowed as if she was about to throw up. “To violence.”

  “So… is this definitely me? I mean… this criminal is definitely who I am?” My voice was weak and croaky as the reality of the whole situation weighed on my shoulders, pushing me down.

  Kelly carried on, ignoring my question. “Your true name is Cain Somers. The name on the suicide note, Cameron Iss, appears to be an anagram of your real name. And… there are connections in your past to a motorcycle club responsible for robberies, gang wars, and money laundering. The details of this are a little sketchy at the moment, but I’m sure the police will find out more.”

  A heavy weight pressed down on my chest and suddenly I couldn’t breathe. I tugged at the round neck on my T-shirt knowing full-well that it wouldn’t help the sensation of asphyxiation. I pushed my seat away from the desk and lowered my head to my hands, trying to pull air into my lungs and calm myself down. Cain Somers? I repeated it over and over in my head. Why did the name not sound familiar to me? And who would give me an alias that was a fucking anagram? Or… or did I give myself the alias? I felt like I was on some dumb episode of fucking Scooby Doo and someone’s mask was about to be removed. The only trouble was, it was mine.

  Suddenly remembering one of my very vivid dreams of a blue-eyed, dark-haired girl. “So… so who is Rosa?”

  She linked her fingers and leaned forward on her desk. Concern flashed in her eyes. “It transpires that Rosa… was… is your seventeen-year-old sister.” The concern transformed into sadness.

  My stomach plummeted like I was on some giant roller coaster. “Was? Was my sister? Do you mean she’s… she’s dead?”

  She sighed heavily and briefly closed her eyes, and I knew then that I wasn’t going to like what was coming. A line appeared between her eyebrows, and her voice came out in a husky whisper. “Rosa Somers is currently logged as a missing person. She hasn’t been seen since before you were discovered over by Ben Nevis.”

  A cold shiver ran the full length of my spine, and my mouth suddenly dried out. I could almost feel the colour drain from my face as I fixed my stare on Kelly and let what she had said sink in.

  Her earlier words about the police wanting to speak to me rolled around my mind. I suddenly sat up straight as dread washed over me. I held up my hands. “Wait… wait a minute. Do they think I have something to do with her disappearance? Is that what all this is about?”

  It made total sense now. The fact that our little indiscretion wouldn’t be happening again. Of course now she knew I was a fucking criminal. Now she had figured out what I already knew. That I was no fucking good for her. Unless I was finger fucking her and giving the best fucking orgasm she’d had in her prissy fucking life. But I clearly wasn’t even good enough to make her come now. I balled my fists as anger rose along with bile in my throat and I inwardly began shrinking to a pile of nothing before her. Because evidently that’s what I was to her. Nothing. Nothing but a fucking violent criminal.

  Her eyes widened slightly as if she were reading my mind, and I could swear I saw panic appear there for a split second. “Honestly, I don’t know. But it seems that Rosa was your only remaining family member. There is no trace of anyone else related to you still living, I’m afraid.”

  Fuck.

  In the space of ten minutes I’d discovered I was a known criminal, I had a sister but she was nowhere to be found, and all my other relatives were dead. Fuck. I stood and began to pace the room as the reality of the situation hit me. I could end up in prison for something I couldn’t even remember having any involvement in. And what kind of fucking person was I anyway? Who in their right mind would be instrumental in the disappearance of their fucking kid sister?

  My heart drummed heavily at my ribcage and I suddenly felt lightheaded. I could hear Kelly speaking, but her words were more like an echo in the distance. I turned to look over at her and saw her rushing to the door and shouting for help. The whole thing seemed to happen in slow motion, and I found myself on my knees, struggling to breathe. I gripped my chest and fell forward into blackness.

  Chapter Nine

  Kelly

  The huge hulk of a man falling to the floor was not something I had expected to witness. The way I’d handled things had been very presumptuous and a tad unprofessional. In some small way I think I was subconsciously punishing him for making me want him. It was ridiculous, unprofessional, and unfair of me. I had just figured he would take on board what I had to tell him and would handle it like the strong, arrogant arse he appeared to be.

  Clearly I had been very much mistaken.

  And this had been a huge learning curve.

  I was beginning to wonder if I was actually cut out for my chosen career. After all, if I had fallen so easily for the first attractive patient that came under my care, what did that say about me? And although I wanted to blame the sexy American who had become the centre of my albeit small and confusing world, I knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that this was my fault. My issue. I was the one in the wrong here. When I added to all of that the very small fact that I was still struggling to figure him out, there was no real wonder why I was consumed with doubt about my capability as a psychologist.

  As soon as I saw the colour drain from his face and his knees began to buckle, I ran to the door and shouted into the corridor for help. Mack and Dennis, the two orderlies from the ward, came dashing in, and I was so grateful that they had been close by. Dennis collected a wheelchair and they managed to get Cameron/Cain back to his room. After a panicked phone call confession about my harsh delivery of the trauma-inducing news to my patient, Doctor Alex Clayton came down and checked him over, but Cameron’s… Cain’s pulse and blood pressure were thankfully returning to normal and he began to come around.

  His eyelids fluttered open and he glanced nervously around the room. “What the fuck happened? Where am I?”

  Alex tried to reassure him. “It’s okay, you’re in the hospital. You banged your head when you fell. You may feel a little disorientated for a while but… well you had just received a barrage of sensitive information in a less than sensitive manner, so it’s understanda
ble.” Alex glanced at me with a disapproving raise of his eyebrows.

  Cam… Cain’s brow scrunched and he closed his eyes for a moment, and I mentally chastised myself for not only my earlier lack of sensitivity but also for continuously muddling up my patient’s name in my head. It would take some getting used to. When he opened them again, they were wide and stark with fear. “R-Rosa? Where’s Rosa? Fuck, I need to find Rosa.” He tried to sit up, but both Alex and I jumped forward.

  “Whoa… whoa… just stay calm, okay? You’ve had a blow to the head. You can’t go rushing around,” Alex informed him.

  “But you don’t understand! They’re going to kill her!”

  A cold shiver travelled the length of my spine, and my heart leapt. “Who… who is going to kill Rosa, Cain?”

  “The fucking Company. They’ll kill her!” He shouted and fought against Alex, who tried to hold him down. Cain was much more muscular and heavily built, and so Alex’s attempts were futile. Mack and Dennis rushed forward to help too. Alex stepped away and returned moments later with a syringe which he jabbed into Cain’s arm as my distressed patient hurled expletives into the room. As the sedative took effect, his angry cries became sorrowful whispers of him repeating his sister’s name over and over.

  My heart broke for him.

  Tears stung at my eyes as I watched the giant of a man succumb to the chemicals racing through his bloodstream. Desperation to help him tightened at my stomach. The heaviness of guilt weighed me down too. Our bizarre relationship, whilst purely sexual in actuality, had had a deep, resounding effect on me regardless of what it might have meant to Cain. They say you should never confuse sex with love, but every single line I had ever drawn in the metaphorical sand was now blurred or completely wiped out. What the hell did I know anymore about right and wrong? I’d allowed a confused, scared American man with no real identity to finger fuck me to the most intense orgasm I’d ever experienced. But the tenderness in his eyes afterwards and the way he had tried to reassure me had confused me. Why the hell couldn’t I just let it go as sex? The realisation that my need to help him on a more personal level meant that my feelings were developing despite the necessity to fight them. I wanted to help and that was that. End of. I needed to find out more. What the hell was the Company? And why would they kill his kid sister? What had happened to cause such conflict that would endanger the lives of those he loved? The only conclusion I could glean was that it must have been something drastic.

  Cain

  The room was dark and the foul metallic stench of blood hung in the air. My skin was damp with sweat and my chest heaved as I tried to pull cleaner air into my lungs. The problem was that there was no fucking cleaner air. Rosa was somewhere in there. I just had to find her. They couldn’t do this to her. Not my baby sister. She had nothing to do with this fucking shit. What kind of fucking barbaric bastards was I dealing with here? These people were supposed to have my back. We were like family. So why the fuck had they turned on me now?

  In the distance I heard screaming. It was her. It was my Rosa. Nausea and anger knotted inside me in equal measures and I clenched my jaw, fighting with myself not to call to her and give myself away. I’d let her down. The kid I’d looked after since my stepmom and Dad were killed by a rival club thanks to a drug deal gone wrong. I had been seventeen at the time and that poor little kid had only been six. And here I was fighting for her fucking life. Fighting with people who knew me. Who supposedly loved me. Who loved her. I’d failed her. How the fuck would she ever trust me again? If she even survived this hell. We had to get out. We had to make a break for it. And as soon as I found her, I’d make it my fucking mission to get her to a safer place.

  When I awoke, the room was dimly lit and the door was ajar. I went to sit up but my head whooshed as if I had done a 360-degree spin. The nurse that had been there when the doctor injected me appeared in the doorway.

  “Hey, there. Good to have you back with us. I’ll let Doctor Darrow and Doctor Clayton know that you’re awake.”

  “Wait!”

  She stopped and turned to face me. “Yes?”

  “Look… I need to get out of here. Can… can you help me? Please?”

  She began to back away with pity in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, love, but no. You need to be here right now.” And with that she disappeared.

  I slammed my fist into the mattress and shouted, “Fuck!” into the empty room.

  Doctor Darrow entered a few moments later, closely followed by Doctor Clayton and a huge fucking giant of a guy in a security uniform.

  Doctor Clayton approached me with caution. “Mr Somers. How are you feeling?”

  “How the fuck do you think I’m feeling? I’m stuck in fucking Scotland while my kid sister is being held against her will by fucking maniacs. So, yeah, peachy. Just fucking peachy.”

  “Look, Mr. Somers, your aggressive nature is in no way helping the situation. We have informed the police that your memory appears to be returning, and they are going to attend the hospital to meet with you. They will be able to help you, I’m sure of that. But until we can substantiate these dreams as factual flashbacks, you will have to remain here where you can be cared for. It’s for your own good, believe me.”

  I closed my eyes and laid my head back as the doc checked my blood pressure. Rifling through my scattered thoughts I tried desperately to make sense of things. To piece the fractured jigsaw together. To try and discover what else I could remember. But I drew a blank. I knew that there was Rosa… and that the Company had taken her. But… I couldn’t remember who the Company were exactly. I knew that they must know me and I them. And that something big had gone down. And that Rosa was in danger… But why? What the fuck had happened? Why couldn’t I remember?

  That night I was restless. Not surprising, really. I was plagued by more dreams, but this time they weren’t quite as horrific…

  Rosa was skipping toward me with her motorcycle helmet hooked over her arm. I shook my head and smiled. I couldn’t help myself. She was so damn cute, and just seeing her made my day. Tall and lean with long, stringy legs that didn’t seem to belong. Her dark, almost black hair was tied in long braids. The vivid blue streak in the front matched the colour of her eyes. Her peers were standing, just staring as she slung her backpack on and secured the chin strap on her helmet before kicking her leg over and slipping her arms around my waist.

  “Hey, big bro. How’s it going?” She squeezed me and I patted her small hands with mine.

  “All the better for seeing you, kiddo. Good day?” I asked over my shoulder.

  “Meh… you know… it’s high school.”

  She wasn’t a huge fan of the whole academic thing, but she was incredibly bright. Sadly she wasn’t one of the cool, popular kids. In fact, many of the kids her age avoided her on account of her big brother and the bad company he kept. I was always assuring her that what they thought didn’t matter, but I know that her lack of friends affected her.

  “Hey, your patch is coming off your cut again. Remind me when we get home, and I’ll take a look and sew it back on for you. Can’t have you representing the club looking all messed up, huh?” That was Rosa for you. Always looking out for me even though I was supposed to be the adult. I was more than capable of sewing my own patches on, but I would let her do it anyhow. She always said she liked to feel useful.

  I didn’t need to reply. Instead I nodded my head once and turned the key in the bike’s ignition, and the beast roared to life. We pulled away at speed down the road toward home…

  Chapter Ten

  Kelly

  My nerves jangled as I waited for Cameron… or should I say Cain, to arrive. Dammit, I needed to get used to this change in name. And to be honest, the name Cain seemed to suit him better. Cameron was a Scottish name, and he was very much an American. I repeated his name over and over in my mind in a bid to acquaint myself with it, but all it did was produce images in my mind of my American in a kilt, bare chested and staring at me with that bl
ue-eyed smoulder. My nipples stood to attention just at the thought. I had a major thing for a man in traditional Scottish dress anyway, but Cain, the all-American bad boy in all his tattooed glory, kitted out in this way made my breasts feel heavy with lust and set my needy clit tingling.

  There was a knock at the door and it snapped me back from my latest inappropriate fantasy. I inhaled a long, deep breath and shook my hands in front of me like a boxer warming up for a fight. “Come in.”

  He walked into the room and I instinctively gravitated toward him by several steps; and as I did so I noticed that he did the same. Warmth flooded my veins and I smiled in a way that I hoped would be reassuring, considering our last encounter and the information I had imparted. His responding smile was curt and I watched as he raised his arms toward me briefly. But he suddenly clenched his fists and then slipped his hands into his jeans pockets. I wasn’t sure what he’d been about to do, but that one small action caused the ache of lust to turn to one of deep longing. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and tell him that everything would be okay. He looked so lost but so very handsome at the same time. Patty, his nurse, had brought him some clothes. They had belonged to her son, who had emigrated to Australia, and they almost fit him. But the lack of a belt around his waist meant the blue jeans hung low on his hips. Belts were not allowed on the ward for reasons of suicide risk.

  With his vivid blue gaze fixed on mine, Cain once again walked slowly toward me. He wore a pale blue button-up T-shirt with the first two buttons unfastened. The sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, revealing the tattoos on his muscular forearms.

  Needing to release myself from his magnetic draw, I turned and walked over to sit on one of the couches where I usually conducted my therapy sessions. I cleared my throat. “Hi, Cain. Have a seat.” I gestured to the couch opposite, and he sat.