The Reaper (Eastward Prison)

Chapter 9

CHAPTER

NINE

HANNAH

“There’s something I want to ask you,” he said, almost as soon as she arrived. His voice was low, quiet. He had the relaxed lounge of someone laid back on a bed. But his eyes were alert, flashing up and down, assessing, calculating. Underneath his seemingly languid reclining posture, there was tension, like a wild cat ready to pounce. He had a different energy to the softness of the previous night. She had wondered if they would explore each other physically again, that she could reciprocate and give back to him as he had given to her last night. She’d dreamed of doing that last night. Sinking down onto her knees and putting the tip of his flared cock on her lips. Then sucking. Hard. Until he shuddered above her and lost control. But his manner didn’t seem to suggest he was in the mood for that.

“Yes?” she asked, unsure, blinking away her fantasy.

“I know someone is trying to kill me. Someone here at Eastward Prison,” he said under his breath.

Very suddenly, very certainly, she believed him. Hannah let the last remnants of their passion from last night melt away, yes, it was time to get serious now. If she let go of her grip on what her world had been, as she already had, and leaned just a little further over the edge, she could see it, too. What was crazy anymore? Was she crazy, for going along with all this? Was he insane? Had he lost his mind? Well, the simple answer was he had lost his memory, he had lost part of his mind. And someone had wanted to kill him, someone had beaten him black and blue. Was it so strange a jump to then surmise that someone was still trying to kill him? No, it was quite a logical conclusion.

“Like someone here is working for someone else, some large organisation or something-” She stopped herself. Like the Bratva? Exactly like the Bratva. Had she said too much? She had to tread carefully here, she couldn’t give away too much, he had to remember it himself, and not plant false memories like the doctor had said.

“Yes,” he said simply. “You don’t know anything about any of this, do you?” he asked. He almost looked hopeful. Like he wanted the trail to end at her. Like he wanted her to have the answers.

“Jack, I’ve told you, I wish I knew, I wish I could just tell you, but I’m sorry, I’m just a nurse. I literally have no idea about who beat you up-”

“So you’ve said,” he growled again, darkly, cutting her off.

Hannah frowned. “Don’t get angry with me, just because I don’t know, you don’t know, either. The answer is probably inside your head somewhere, something you did, something you were involved in… you are a member of the Reapers MC, honestly, you should have expected trouble-”

“Oh, I should expect trouble, should I? Is that a threat?”

She scoffed, “Come on Jack, that’s ridiculous. I’m just saying, you can’t be a member of a MC club like the Reapers and have a normal quiet life. I don’t know what happened. You are the one who knows but can’t remember. I never even knew anything in the first place, you never told me anything,” she finished. She breathed.

He looked at her but didn’t say anything. They both felt the distance between them now, suddenly, and how it had contrasted with the earlier visit yesterday, the possibility of intimacy, this felt heated but angrier than before. He was angry, he’d got her riled up, too.

“The combination of the brain trauma and the medication is likely to make you a little paranoid, that’s understandable-” she said, aware of her heated tone.

“Paranoid? You think I’ve lost my mind?” he countered.

“I just think you aren’t in a rational place right now to judge what you think is real and what is going on inside your brain right now.”

“You do think I’ve lost my mind,” he snapped tersely.

“You’ve said yourself, you can’t tell what’s a dream and what’s reality,” she countered.

“I know I’m not dreaming this. I feel it. Like I feel things for you, like I know there is something between us, I feel something is going on, someone is trying to kill me here…”

Hannah gulped. He was beginning to remember. He hadn’t been truthful with the neurologist. Something had switched. He wasn’t his usual self. Or the Jack she had come to know over the last week, at least. She hated herself for being so naive, for falling too hard into the lie she had constructed. She could see it on his face, she could hear it in his voice. Jack was beginning to remember.

“Look, I’m not going to argue with you about this-” Hannah began, trying to deflect.

“Argue?” he snarled. “Is that what we’re doing? Did we used to argue a lot? What would we argue about, who did the washing up? Who took out the bins? Friends that we didn’t like? What would we argue about Hannah?” His tone was harsh.

She was taken aback at his temper, but she wasn’t going to back down to him. He wanted heat, she could match him there. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and crossed her arms over her chest. “Jack, I’m not talking about our arguments-”

“And how would we resolve our arguments?” he ground out, looking angry, murderously angry. “What would you do when you got angry with me, Hannah? Shout? Stomp your foot and have a tantrum? Cry? Did you tie me up and beat me? What would I have done to you? I could bend you over the sofa, pound into you, a hard and angry fuck. Is that how we would resolve it?”

Hannah stood up and rolled her eyes, she was angry that he was angry. She was angry that he kept pushing at this. She didn’t want the lie to end. She wasn’t ready.

“Did we do anything, other than fuck, Hannah?” he suddenly said, bluntly. He turned his head fully now, his tone harsher than she expected.

“Not really, no,” she snapped back, she was getting tired now. Frustrated. Stretched too thin for this.

He swore under his breath. “I’m cross at myself. You deserve better. I’m cross with you, too, in honesty,” he said. “Why didn’t you demand more from me?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a smart, young, attractive woman, you’re an absolute catch Hannah, and I treated you like a whore-”

“It wasn’t like that-”

“Well, it sounds a lot like it. We didn’t walk, we barely talked, not about each other, not about anything meaningful, we didn’t go out anywhere, we didn’t live together, fuck… but when I touch you…” He shivered.

“We were lovers-”

“That’s just a nicer way of saying it Hannah, we met up, we fucked, I left. That sounds like that's about it. Why didn’t I want more? If I couldn’t be there for you, as a proper partner, you know, a loving boyfriend, willing to commit to making a go of it, why did you let me treat you that way?”

“Hey now, are you considering that you could have it all the wrong way round? Why didn’t I want more? Why didn’t I want to make a go of it, ask you to stay... because I could have. It’s not just you, I could have done more.”

“I just don’t get it, it doesn’t feel… like me,” he finished quietly. “Was it enough for you?” he asked.

She hesitated. How could she even begin to explain, to vocalise. No, she thought, it wasn’t enough for me. Because it wasn’t anything for me. Because there wasn’t a me and you before.

“I don’t think it's enough for me anymore,” he finished.

Her eyes flashed furiously now, too. She was meeting him, toe to toe. “Jack, I’m not talking about this with you, rehashing what could have happened and all the questions you want answers to, not in this state you’re in, I might as well go-”

“Are you running away from an argument? Maybe we avoided arguments because you would always disappear, is that what would happen?”

She shook her head once. “No, I’m not afraid of a fight Jack, I just don’t want to do this here, now-”

He interrupted her. “And what if I want to do this here, now, what if I am so angry, you’re angry, that we simply have to have it out here and now, Hannah?”

She looked at him and he indeed looked angry, his face was flashed and his eyes were glinting. He was looking at her intensely and she felt her anger burning off her. It wasn’t fair that he was getting angry with her. It wasn’t fair that he was going to take out his frustrations on her. Maybe she should take out her frustrations on him.

He then began to pull the sheets off of him, his irritation palpable.

“Jack, what are you doing, you can’t get up-” she said exasperatedly.

“I can and I will,” he ground out through clenched teeth. And she saw the moment he realised that really he couldn’t stand and realised he only had his hospital gown on, with it half hanging off him. Hannah swallowed. He was tall. He lurched forward unsteadily, his cannula in his wrist rattled.

“Jack, you can’t get up yet, the nurses said —”

“Fuck what the nurses said, Hannah, is this how he would resolve our arguments?“ He stepped forward then. She did not back down. She squared up to him, even though she had to look up to meet his eyes and she shifted her shoulders back and down. What was he going to do to her, really?

He stepped forward again and looked down at her. “Is this what we would do Hannah?”

“Maybe we did, Jack, more to the point, maybe we will again.”

There was one way she knew they could find resolution. She shot her hands out and fisted his hospital gown, pulling him closer, so that he was pressed up against her. She adjusted her legs and pushed her hips against his thigh. Her clit rubbed against him. She moaned again, extended up and bit his ear.

He gasped, his eyes widened.

“Maybe we will again,” she repeated to emphasise her point. “You’re always looking behind, Jack, maybe you should start looking ahead.”

“Fuck.” Was all he managed to utter, and then he promptly fainted.