Bad Company: Company of Sinners MC #1

by Lisa J. Hobman

  Cameron

  I hated the fact that the days were passing so slowly. I was hounded by night terrors and had to be sedated on several occasions. Most nights were the same. The pain of someone’s fist connecting with the already tender and bruised parts of my body was far too real. Hearing the blood-curdling sound of laughter as they inflicted pain upon me and the sickening, desperate screams of a female who was witnessing the whole thing had me thrashing around and fighting with the bed sheets as if they were in on the conspiracy. Or there would be the dreams where I was the one inflicting the agony, and these were somehow even harder to bear. The knot in my stomach told me that I didn’t want to carry out such heinous acts; something was driving to do it regardless.

  Following these kinds of episodes, I’d awaken to find everything moving in slow motion. The nurse’s voice would sound slurry and deep. A slight move of my head felt like it took an age—all because of the sedatives. I hated the weakness associated with the drugs when they coursed through my veins. Someone could’ve walked right in and aimed at loaded pistol at my temple, and I would have been powerless to stop my own murder.

  And that seemed to be the expectation on waking in a drug-fogged state. That someone was out to get me. That the people from my dreams would suddenly materialise and finish what they’d started. It was a living hell. And that was putting it mildly.

  The police forensics had been and taken samples for DNA checks and had shown me the old leather jacket that I had been wearing when I was found. It was black and the sleeves had been cut off, making into more of a vest. The back was scratched and marked, and it looked like some patches or something had been removed at some point. Looking at the jacket didn’t spark anything in me except for images of the blue-eyed girl from my nightmares.

  My only saving grace was that I knew I’d get to see Doc McSexy, and for a little while at least I could forget that I’d been beaten to within an inch of my fucking life—well, that is until she started with her incessant questioning. In the back of my mind I was thinking that maybe even if I did remember who the fuck I was, I might just play dumb so that I’d have longer with her. There was just something about her that got to me. She affected me and I had no fucking clue why. I didn’t know what kind of guy I’d been before, but judging by the dreams I was having, I’d say I’d been the ‘love ’em and leave ’em’ kind. Interspersed with the violence there had been tons of erotic dreams, or maybe flashbacks, in which I’d been fucking a different female each time. But the best erotic dreams I had were about Kelly.

  They were different.

  Although I usually awoke from them feeling a sick and empty pit of sadness inside, I never felt regret.

  I’d been in the hospital around three weeks, and my strength was increasing every day. There was a lot going on behind the scenes, I was told, to try and ascertain my identity; but as far as I was aware, they were drawing blanks. I’d gotten into a kind of routine and although I was bored, it could’ve been worse. Judging by the terrible dreams I’d been having—more often than the erotic ones—and if they were flashbacks, I’d been messed up in all kinds of violent shit. Being here in Scotland, I felt kinda safe.

  Judging by the other people in the Mental Health Unit, I wasn’t their typical kind of patient. Many of them were frequent flyers and had racked up their suicide attempt air miles, and after chatting to some of those guys, I felt sorta lucky to have no fucking clue what had brought me here. At least ignorance meant I didn’t have to face up to whatever demons had made me try to take my own life. If that’s what had actually happened.

  I was beginning to think my amnesia was a kind of self-defence mechanism. Maybe my brain had purposefully shut down to stop me from reliving that shit. All I knew was that the other people in this place needed to be here more than I did. The awful things some of those people had gone through. My God. They say that suicide attempts are mostly a cry for help. And something inside of me really wanted to do something positive. If I had tried to take my own life—and it was a big if—then I decided that once I’d figured it all out, I wanted to do something good. My brain was telling me that this way of thinking was something alien to me. And again, thinking about the dreams I’d been having, I hadn’t been a very nice guy in my former life. Or at least I hadn’t mixed with very nice guys.

  In an effort to be the kind of guy I could at least somewhat respect, I’d been sharing books and magazines with some of the other patients, and although I really didn’t want to be there, I made the best of a shitty situation.

  My appointments with Kelly kept me going. We rummaged through the details of every nightmare, looking for clues. And I became increasingly frustrated at the absence of a breakthrough. The only positive was that she was there for me.

  I could talk to her. Make her laugh even. I knew she was being paid to spend time with me, but it felt like she was actually interested in me as a person. The way she locked eyes with me… I knew there was a connection in spite of my bad behaviour. I could feel it in my bones… and my boner.

  I awoke to a dull morning in November, and after washing and dressing, I stood at the window to my private room. The view was hazy due to a low-hanging mist—something I was becoming familiar with, since Scotland in winter can have crazy extremes of weather. I’m talking short sleeves one minute and the next waterproof coats and woolly hats. I was beginning to think I must be from a warmer climate, as I was feeling the cold all too easily, even here in my glass prison.

  Things between Kelly and me were… strange to say the least. I caught her looking at me sometimes but couldn’t decipher her expression. It was like she was trying to figure me out in a way that didn’t involve her job. Like she was trying to find the me hidden underneath all the mystery to see if she liked what she found. But no sooner did the look appear than it vanished in the blink of an eye.

  I was pretty sure I was affecting her. On many occasions a blush would start at her chest and slowly creep up her body to her cheeks. I could follow the heat as it rose. It was damn cute and I couldn’t help smiling, but I really wanted to know what was going on behind those verdant eyes of hers. She was desperately trying to hide from me and remain professional. But I could see from her body language that she was struggling not to straddle me and take the full length of my cock inside herself. And God knows I was fighting this thing between us too. The last thing she needed was to be dragged into the shit pit that my life was turning out to be. But I still had this feeling deep down that I knew her even though the notion was ridiculous. It was like our fucking souls were intertwined or something. Not that I believed in that shit. Well, actually… I didn’t know what I believed because I couldn’t remember much. And no matter how I tried to figure it out, my stupid mind wouldn’t give anything up. And in spite of the fact that she appeared so professional, I could tell that she was drawn to me too.

  The signs were there. She fidgeted around in her seat and couldn’t keep eye contact for very long. Her nipples made more than one appearance—not completely, you understand, but protruding through the flimsy silk blouses she wore when I locked my gaze on hers for too long. All telltale signs of attraction as far as I was concerned. And in all honesty it was more than reciprocated on my part.

  I wanted her.

  Badly.

  Fucking desperately.

  That one thing I knew for certain.

  Although it was becoming more than that. I didn’t just want her. I needed her. I needed a physical connection to her that would prove my emotional connection wasn’t just a fallacy. It was taking over my mind and stopping me from concentrating on the shit I really should have been dealing with.

  I walked down to my appointment with Kelly and knocked on her door. She called for me to go in. Once inside I took a good long look at her. Tight, black skirt and red blouse. Her auburn hair was loose around her shoulders. My blood rushed south and my dick hardened at just this sight of her standing behind her desk, peering down at some notes.

  “Mo
rnin’.” I smiled widely as her eyes connected with mine and she blushed.

  “Good morning, Cameron. Sleep well?”

  Aww fuck, that accent got me every time. “Um… I had another horrific nightmare but it was short this time.”

  “Good. That’s good. Take a seat and we’ll get started.”

  I walked over and took my usual spot on the couch. She followed and sat opposite me, demurely crossing her legs to the side.

  “I wanted to ask you about the iPod that was found with you. Would you mind listening to something to see if it sparks any memories for you?

  I shook my head and shrugged, unsure what good it would do. “Yeah, why not? I’ll try anything at this point.” She passed me the iPod and I stuck in the ear buds.

  She scrolled through the tracks and hit play. “Great. Okay. Close your eyes, please, and relax.”

  I did as she asked and the opening bars of a song began to play. A haunting piano and guitar with voices I didn’t really recognise to begin with. But as I sat there, eyes closed, the lyrics began to talk about being unable to find peace, and for some reason that resonated deep within me. I couldn’t explain the sudden ache in my chest, and I clenched my fists as my jaw tightened and a ball of emotion lodged in my throat. As the chorus kicked in, my heart skipped in my chest and a cold shiver traversed my spine. I was overwhelmed with deep sadness and images of Kelly and me holding hands and smiling as we held each other, but no sooner had the image arrived than it was replaced by me sitting in a desert. The lyrics spoke of being far apart from someone and finding it hard to accept the fact. The image in my mind was of me watching the sun go down, an orange glow cast around me. I was all alone and my face was damp. Anger welled up inside of me, and I couldn’t take the oppressive loneliness anymore.

  My eyes sprang open and Kelly was watching me. I pulled out the ear buds. The music was faint now, but still it was too much. “Please… turn it off. I… I don’t want to listen to it anymore.” My voice cracked as I spoke and I realised the dampness on my face wasn’t just in my imagination.

  She tilted her head to one side inquisitively. “Are you okay, Cameron? Did it spark memories for you?” I sat there in silence, clenching and unclenching my jaw, trying to figure out why the song’d had such a profound effect on me and what the hell Kelly had to do with any of this. I stared down at my hands and didn’t answer and she pushed again. “Would you like to share anything with me, Cameron?”

  I forced a laugh. “No. Nothing came to me,” I lied. “It’s just a fucking buzz kill of a song. Don’t you have anything a little more light-hearted?” I wiped my hands over my face as I tried to make a joke of the situation.

  “Okay. We don’t have to listen to any more for now. Do you need a break?”

  “Nope. I’m fine,” I lied again. I was getting good at deception. Or maybe I always had been. “What the fuck was the song anyway?”

  “It’s a song by Snow Patrol. ‘Set Fire to the Third Bar’. Does that ring any bells with you?”

  I huffed like a teenage kid. “Nah. Someone should set fire to the fucking CD, man. Fuck.”

  “Are you sure there’s nothing you want to discuss after listening to the track?”

  Anger spiked within me at her insistence and my fists clenched. “I said no.”

  She raised her eyebrows and nodded. After a brief pause where she appeared to be doing that analysing shit on me, she finally seemed to accept my vague answers and dropped it. “Okay… so your dream last night. Can you tell me about it?”

  “Actually, there was more than one.”

  Without making eye contact, she began to make notes. “Okay, fine. Start at the beginning.”

  “Uh… Okay… So, I was in a dark room. There was a guy tied to chair and I was… I think I was… I don’t know… interrogating him about some shit or other. I… I hit him a few times and he was crying out for me to stop.” I swallowed hard. Shame crept up my spine like an ice-cold finger, and I twisted my hands into knots.

  “It seems that you’re finding it difficult to talk about this. Why do you think that could be?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I’m feeling guilt? If this is how I was before… Well, I can’t say I’m exactly experiencing a whole lot of pride right now over my behaviour. The poor guy was distraught. When I think of his expression and the way he begged for mercy…” I dropped my head into my hands as the scenes from my dream played over again in my mind like a horror movie. The spatters of blood, the sound of crunching bones as my fist made contact with various parts of his face.

  I shuddered and a wave of nausea rolled over me.

  I heard her inhale deeply. “Okay. That’s fine. It’s clearly distressing you so, let’s move on.”

  Relief swept through me at the opportunity to stop thinking about the awful scene. “There’s been a new addition to my dreams… a bike. Motorcycle, that is. Sometimes I’m just riding at high speed, feeling the wind in my face, and I… I feel calm. Kind of serene, you know? But then… then I’m being chased by other bikers. I can never see who’s chasing me. I just… I feel it. Fear… panic… adrenaline. I try to look over my shoulder and my bike skids out from underneath me, and I wake just before I hit the ground.”

  “Bike… okay… interesting. This is a recurring dream?”

  I nodded my head. “Yeah… it’s happened a couple times now, and it usually wakes me, but then I drift off into another nightmare soon after. Or… or some other kind of dream. That’s what happened last night.”

  She nodded and made more notes. “I see. So… tell me about the subsequent dream.”

  I lifted my gaze and stared into those beautiful green eyes, shaking my head. “Oh… I don’t think you’ll wanna hear the next one, sweetheart,” I told her in a warning tone.

  Tilting her head to one side in that sexy way she had, she said, “Mr. Iss, I’m your doctor, not your sweetheart, and we won’t get anywhere unless you tell me everything. You need to trust me. No matter what the content of your nightmares is, they could hold the key to your identity. So… try me.” The defiance in her voice made my dick harden. Oh, baby, I would love to try you.

  I raised my eyebrows as if to say, ‘All right, you asked for it.’ And keeping my gaze locked on hers, I began. “You were involved. I was in here… in your office… for my session with you. You were sitting on your desk this time and you were staring at me… You had on this little grey skirt, not as tight as the ones you usually wear. Kind of… I don’t… flippy, floaty fabric. You … began to unbutton your blouse, but you kept your eyes locked on mine. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. You opened up the blouse and exposed your lace-covered breasts to me and touched yourself. You were chewing your lip and caressing your nipples.” I paused for a moment, expecting her to tell me to stop… But instead she was listening intently. Her lips parted slightly and her tongue slipped out to wet them.

  “Then… you slipped your skirt up farther and spread your thighs… You… you… weren’t wearing any panties.” I swallowed hard as I recalled the eroticism of the dream and my dick began to throb. “You crooked your finger for me to come to you, and when I obliged, you slipped your hand into my pants and gripped my… gripped me. I shoved my pants down and you leaned back on your desk. Before I knew it I was fu—”

  She cleared her throat and blinked, looking away as if coming out of a trance. She held up one hand. “Okay, stop. I get the picture. You know, it’s not exactly unheard of for a patient to become attached to or infatuated with a care professional in some way. It’s a kind of… a safety blanket thing,” she told me without making eye contact. It was as though she was trying to convince herself that it was just infatuation. She began to flick through her notebook.

  I tried not to smile and pulled my lips between my teeth for a second. “Oh… okay. I—I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” But honestly, deep down, I think I did intend that all along. I wanted to see how she’d react. See if she’d become aroused at my words. I’d felt the sexual ten
sion between us and I was sure she had too. The difference was that I was okay admitting to it. A pink glow had spread up her chest to her cheeks, and her nipples were pushing at the fabric of her shirt. If I didn’t know better, I’d say they were definite signs of arousal. But hell, I couldn’t remember my own name, so what the fuck did I know?

  She stood from the couch suddenly, and a look of confusion came over her pretty features. “I think we can call it a day. I have an urgent meeting to prepare for, and so it’s probably best.” Her voice was terse, and an air of annoyance had come over her.

  What the fuck? She’d asked and I’d told, so what was the fucking problem? She made her way to the door and I followed.

  “Hey, you did ask. So why do I feel like I’ve done something wrong here? It’s not like I told you the damn dream to turn you on,” I lied. “You said you needed to know. Why are you being like this?”

  She turned toward me but there was still no eye contact. “Like I said, Mr Iss, I have a meeting.”

  “Like hell you do. Come on, what’s wrong? We won’t get anywhere with finding out who the fuck I am if you do this shit. I need to know who I am, dammit.” Anger washed over me and I backed her to the wall. Clearly a former character trait rearing its head. “You’re not being fair. This is my rehabilitation, and you’re just cutting me off.” I was aware that my tone was coming off as aggressive, and so I made an effort to soften it. “I… I need you, Kelly.” There were never truer words spoken. And as the words fell from my lips, I realised the weight of them. I did need her for my rehabilitation, but there was more to it. My attachment to her was growing. And not just in a sexual way. Part of me suspected the sex stuff was the tip of the iceberg. I knew there was something so much deeper—and that scared the crap out of me.

  Her chest began to rise and fall rapidly, and I was so close, I could smell her perfume. She always smelled so damn good. Like a field full of the sweetest roses.