Lying.
It was the one thing Lena knew how to do well. How to fake everything in life. Happiness, love, peace, add in any fucking word you want. It was something she learned at a young age. The fights between her parents that turned violent and little Lena walked in on the physical altercations, never allowed to show emotion towards it. Because if she cried, her mother got louder. And if her mother got louder, her father got more violent. The cycle going and going and going… but if Lena rubbed her eyes, yawned, and pretended she had woken from a bad dream, the fight would end. Her parents would take her to bed and get her back to sleep. Yeah, her Daddy’s breath smelled like whiskey. Yeah, her Mommy had blood on her teeth. But they weren’t fighting anymore.
That’s what faking it did.
It fixed a lot of things.
Including this…
Waking up in the clubhouse of Back Down Devil MC, the entire night was fresh on her mind. Leaving poor Annie and going to see Victor. Then running from Victor and that big lunk of an asshole. And finally… stabbing Victor and getting hit by the big lunk.
Of course, there was more locked in Lena’s mind. Including the uncontrollable urge that had attacked her when she opened her eyes the first time and saw someone as rough and sexy as Jett hovering over her.
Jett.
What a fucking name.
What a fucking cock, too.
She couldn’t remember the last time her body had been so engaged like that. The way he slowly and carefully stripped her of her bloody shirt. The way he gently touched her, fighting his own urges. And then when he finally did let go, he ravaged her in a way that left Lena feeling alive. Really alive. Finally, for once.
But that was all last night.
Now she had to fake this to get out of it. There was no way anyone could know who she was, or that she was affiliated with Victor and all his mob ties. It wasn’t fair to Back Down Devil MC. And if the stab wound did kill Victor, the target on Lena’s back was a mile wide. And that included anyone near her.
Which put into place the plan for the day… to get the fuck out of here.
The first biker she saw was a guy named Blaine. He was a dickhead. A complete ass that looked up her shirt. Literally lifted the shirt and looked at her naked body. She had to playfully stir and wake up. Her first instinct was to lie, and she confessed to Blaine she had no idea who she was. He bought it, but only because his eyes were wondering what the rest of her naked body looked like and tasted like.
Then came Jett.
Seeing him had the same effect on her body as it did last night. Now that was a hard thing to fight off, especially moving her shoulder when he touched her. She played dumb with the mug of coffee, sniffing it as though it were some foreign liquid.
Lena scrambled trying to figure out how to make it all seem real. Did people with amnesia remember food? Remember how to breathe? Remember how to blink? What did they think about?
So she stared straight ahead and heard Jett and Blaine talking at the door.
In the back of her mind - since she could remember everything about her life - she tried to figure out an escape plan. Truth was, she didn’t remember anything from getting hit by the big guy with Victor until she started to regain feeling as Jett took her shirt off. Which meant she didn’t know how the clubhouse was set up. One story? Two stories? Halls? And when she did get out… where would she go and how would she find some kind of safety.
Well, there was no such thing as safety. Lena knew that by now. Her original plan had been to stab Victor and then make a run for it. But before she stabbed Victor he had taken her car and left her basically stranded. Jett solved the stranded issue, but he didn’t need the violence Victor would bring.
“Just get the fuck out,” Jett said. He slammed the door shut.
Lena swallowed and turned her head. “What’s going on?”
“You tell me. What the fuck is going on with you?”
“I don’t know… you’re Jett, right?”
“You don’t know…”
Lena shook her head. “I don’t remember anything. Who am I?”
“Lena,” Jett said. “Your name is Lena. You woke up last night. We…”
We fucked. Yeah, I remember that. Fuck, I remember it, Jett.
“We what? What happened?”
Jett stared at her. Lena tried to keep minimal eye contact, afraid she was going to give her lie away. She knew the punishment of that, too. There had been plenty of times she got wrapped up in a lie and it never ended well.
“Okay, I’ll play,” Jett said. He reached down and opened a shirt. “This was what you were wearing. See it? See the blood?”
“Yeah,” Lena said. “Was I hurt?”
“Do you feel hurt?”
“I don’t know what I feel. I’m confused.”
Jett sighed. “Fucking Christ. You were passed out on my motorcycle.”
“You have a motorcycle?” Lena asked.