Chapter One
Venom
The antiseptic scent of bleach and stale air assaulted my nostrils as I clawed my way back to consciousness. My eyelids felt like lead weights, refusing to cooperate as I struggled to open them. When I finally managed to pry them apart, harsh fluorescent lights seared my retinas, sending sharp daggers of pain through my skull.
I blinked rapidly, trying to bring the blurry room into focus. Sterile white walls. Beeping monitors. The rhythmic hiss of oxygen. Hospital. But why? My mind felt foggy, memories just out of reach.
I attempted to shift positions, but my body refused to obey. Every muscle ached, protesting even the slightest movement. This couldn’t be my body -- it felt alien, unfamiliar. Panic started to bubble up in my chest.
The soft click of the door opening caught my attention. A petite blonde woman entered, her blue eyes widening as they landed on me. Relief flooded her delicate features, quickly followed by apprehension. She hesitated at the threshold, one hand still on the doorknob as if debating whether to flee.
“You’re awake,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll get the doctor.”
She raced out and soon a team of doctors and nurses came in. They immediately checked the machines, someone checked my pulse, and the doctor stared at a device in his hand.
“We’re going to remove the tube from your throat in just a moment,” the doctor said. “I’ll let the nurses help you get comfortable, then I’ll go over a few things with you. It’s good to see you awake.”
He stepped out of the room and someone else entered. The process of removing the tube was far from fun, but I was glad to have it out. A nurse offered an ice chip.
“I know your mouth and throat are dry, but drinking water right off could make you sick. I need you to suck on these for the moment,” she said, placing the cup within reach.
I opened my mouth to ask a question but couldn’t get words out. Instead, I ended up coughing. The nurses helped me calm down, fluffed my pillows, and helped me sit up a bit more. By the time they’d finished, the doctor returned.
“First, do you know the date?” the doctor asked.
I stared at him, trying to figure out why he was asking me that. I rattled off what I thought was the correct answer, and he made a note but didn’t comment.
“And your name?”
“Venom,” I said. He stared at me over the top of his glasses but fuck if I was telling him my legal name. I hadn’t used it in forever. “I’m the VP for the Dixie Reapers MC. Venom is the only name you’re getting out of me.”
I saw his lips slightly twitch, but he just made another note on the device in his hand.
“What do you remember?” he asked.
My brow furrowed. “Look, I don’t know why I’m here, but I want to go home.”
The doctor set the device aside and folded his arms. “Mr. Venom, you’re in the ICU. You were shot twice in an altercation, died twice and came back, and you’ve been in a coma for months. My questions may seem tedious, but I assure you there’s a reason for them.”
“Months?” I asked. What the fuck? And shot? I didn’t remember doing anything that would have gotten me into that situation. At least, not recently. It wasn’t like I was an angel. The club had good days and bad days. Had a job gone wrong? I doubted the doctor knew the particulars, but I did know things had to have been really fucking bad for the club to send me to the damn hospital.
“It seems you’re suffering from amnesia. It could be temporary, or… Well, there’s always the chance it’s permanent.”
“But I remember things just fine.”
The doctor stared at me, as if trying to decide what he wanted to say. When he did speak, it didn’t give me a lot of confidence.
“Mr. Venom, the situation is more serious than you realize, but I don’t think we should push. It could end up having disastrous results. It’s best to let your memory return on its own. The brain is complex. What we may think wouldn’t be a big deal could have lasting consequences.”
Clearly I wasn’t going to get anywhere with this asshat. “Where’s the woman who was here before?”
“Ridley?” one of the nurses asked.
“Pretty blonde with blue eyes,” I said.
Her lips parted and then she snapped them shut. She quickly pasted a smile on her face. “We’ll send her back in when we step out.”
Her reaction said I’d forgotten more than just how I’d ended up in this damn hospital bed. Who was that woman to me? Why did these people seem to think I should know her? I had to admit, she’d seemed a bit familiar, even though I couldn’t place where I’d seen her before.
“You have a catheter in,” the doctor said. “We’ll take it out today and you’ll be able to get up to use the restroom. Please don’t try to get out of bed on your own. Press the call button and a nurse will help you.”
“Why the fuck would I do that?” I asked.
“Because you’re a fall risk, Mr. Venom. You’ve been lying prone in that bed for months. Your legs aren’t going to be as strong as you’re expecting them to be.”
Fine. I’d do as he said. Once. After that, all bets were off. I wasn’t a fucking child who needed someone to take them to the damn bathroom.
It took a while longer before everyone finally left the room. I closed my eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. And after what felt like forever, the woman they’d called Ridley came back into the room, giving me a cautious smile. She looked like she’d been crying, and for some reason, I wanted to pull her into my arms and comfort her.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, her tone gentle.
I cleared my throat. “Like I’ve been hit by a damn semi,” I said, my voice sounding more like a growl. “What the hell happened? The doctors wouldn’t tell me much. Something about being shot and being in a coma.”
A flicker of pain crossed her face before she schooled her expression. “Did they tell you that you were unconscious for months?”
I nodded. Yeah, they’d mentioned that, the shooting, and not a hell of a lot else. Something felt incredibly wrong about this situation, but I didn’t know why. Nor did I understand my reactions to this woman. Even now, I wanted to take her into my arms. What the fuck was wrong with me?
She reached out as if to touch my arm, then thought better of it. Her hand hovered uncertainly in the air between us before dropping back to her lap. The gesture struck me as oddly intimate.
“Venom,” she said softly, “do you know who I am?”
The use of my road name sent a jolt through me. The way that nurse had acted, I’d assumed I knew this woman somehow. I studied her face more closely, searching for any hint of recognition. There was something achingly familiar about her blue eyes, the curve of her lips. But try as I might, I couldn’t place her.
“Should I?” I asked, my voice gruff with confusion and a hint of suspicion.
The hope in her eyes dimmed, her shoulders sagging almost imperceptibly. She took a deep breath, squaring those delicate shoulders as if steeling herself for battle.
“It’s all right,” she said, though the slight quaver in her voice betrayed her. “The doctor warned us this might happen. We’ll figure it out together, okay?”
I nodded warily, unsure what to make of this woman and the complex emotions swirling just beneath her calm exterior. As she talked about mundane things like the weather, a festival I’d missed, and apparently any random thought that popped into her mind, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing something vitally important. The air between us crackled with unspoken tension, heavy with secrets I couldn’t begin to fathom.
The woman’s fingers traced abstract patterns on the edge of my hospital bed as she spoke, her gaze fixed on some distant point. “My name is Ridley. As to the rest, the doctor cautioned against telling you too much.”
What the fuck? “Are you serious right now?”
She winced. “I know you don’t like people telling you what to do. But he said if I told you about the time you’ve missed, it could actually hurt you.”
I snorted. “Look, I was apparently shot twice, died and was brought back. I don’t think you talking to me is going to make me keel over.”
She smiled faintly. “I know you’re tough. If anyone knows it, it’s me.”
“So, talk to me, pretty girl.”
Tears welled in her eyes and she pressed her lips together. “Like I said, my name is Ridley… and we’ve been married for nearly thirty years.”
Holy. Fucking. Shit. I didn’t stop her. Just listened. But was she telling the truth? They’d said I had amnesia. I’d assumed that meant I was missing a few months of my life. Not decades!
“We have three beautiful children together -- Dawson, Mariah, and Farrah. Dawson is actually our youngest, and the only one who still lives in town. We also have several grandchildren.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. Married? Children? Grand children? There was no fucking way! I wasn’t old enough for that shit. Hell, I was only in my thirties. I searched my fragmented memories, desperately seeking any shred of truth to her claims. But there was nothing -- just a vast, echoing emptiness where those memories should have been.
“I’m sorry,” I said, frustration seeping into my tone. “But I don’t… I can’t remember any of that. And no offense, but your claims are a bit unrealistic. How could I be a grandpa when I’m only in my thirties?”
Ridley’s eyes snapped back to mine, a storm of emotions swirling in their blue depths. “Did you say thirties?”
I nodded, then winced at the pain and dizziness that hit me.
“Are you sure you want to know the entire truth?” she asked. “Even if it could end up making things worse?”
“Yeah. Hit me with it. I don’t like that lying-ass fucking doctor. I’m an adult and can handle whatever you throw at me. Haven’t run away so far, right?”
“I think there’s something you need to see.” She took a small compact out of her purse and handed it to me.
Apprehension filled me even though I wasn’t sure why. I held the mirror up and immediately dropped it when I saw my reflection. “What the fuck? What the actual fuck?”
“Venom, you’re in your sixties now.” She paused. “As for who I am, other than your wife… I’m Bull’s daughter.”
My gaze snapped to hers. “You’re… No fucking way.”
She nodded. “Yeah. I came back to the Dixie Reapers about thirty years ago, in trouble and needing my dad. A Prospect detained me at the gate, and you let me through. We’ve been together ever since.”
I held up a hand. “Just… wait. You’re little Ridley? The girl who used to play at the clubhouse before moving to Florida with your mom? That Ridley?”
“Yes. I know this is a lot…”
Pain spiked through my head, and I gripped it, trying to make sense of everything. The alarms went nuts on the machines. A nurse came in to check on me, but I waved her off. Whatever this woman, Ridley, had to say, I knew I needed to hear it. And something told me the staff here would chase her out if they thought she might be stressing me out.
“It’s okay,” she said, reaching out as if to touch my hand before thinking better of it. “We’ll take it slow. One day at a time.”
I watched as she pulled a small photo from her wallet. “This is us,” she explained, holding it out for me to see. “Back when you first claimed me. Or rather, I claimed you.”
The image showed a younger version of myself, the version of me I remembered, with my arms wrapped around a radiant blonde. We both looked… happy. Content. It was like looking at strangers.
“You really don’t remember?” Ridley asked, her voice cracking slightly.
I shook my head, my throat tight. “No. I’m sorry, but… you’re a stranger to me. At least, this adult version of you.”
The pain that flashed across her face was visceral, but she quickly masked it with a determined smile. “I’m not giving up on us, Venom. Not now, not ever.”
I stared at Ridley, my mind a maelstrom of disbelief and frustration. The woman before me was undeniably beautiful, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, eyes filled with a mixture of hope and worry. But all I could see was the ghost of a teenage girl, Bull’s daughter, superimposed over this stranger who claimed to be my wife. Even though she hadn’t been back to the clubhouse since she was a small child, he'd shown me pictures, ones he’d received over the years. I might not remember much about my past, but I did recall how proud he was every time he got one of those pictures. He’d show them to everyone, bragging on his daughter.
“You were just a kid,” I muttered, more to myself than to her. “How the hell did we…”
Ridley’s lips quirked into a sad smile. “We didn’t exactly plan it. And trust me, my dad was far from pleased about it. It just… happened. You fought it at first, you know. Thought you were too old, too rough around the edges. Then Torch called me into Church, and I claimed you in front of all your brothers. You were amused by it.”
As she spoke, I found myself hanging on her every word, desperate for any shred of connection to the life she described.
“You saved me, you know? My stepdad was trying to sell me off to some man called Montoya. You made sure he could never get his hands on me or hurt anyone else ever again.”
Something stirred in the depths of my mind -- not a memory, exactly, but a feeling. In my gut, I knew she was right. I’d killed the man she spoke of. Then again, I’d killed quite a few men over the years -- the years I remembered. I doubted getting married had changed me that much.
“Sounds like something I’d do,” I admitted grudgingly, my fingers twitching with the urge to reach out and touch her, to see if it would spark any recognition.
Ridley’s face lit up at my words, and for a moment, I caught a glimpse of the vibrant, outgoing woman she must be when not weighed down by this impossible situation.
“Our lives weren’t a fairy tale exactly, but we were happy. I loved you, and I knew you loved me. Even when the club was in chaos, even when things got tough, you were my rock.”
I listened, torn between the evidence of a life well-lived and the vast emptiness where those memories should have been. Part of me wanted to believe her, to accept this reality where I’d found love and built a family. But the skeptical, hardened part of my nature -- the part that had kept me alive through decades in an MC -- couldn’t quite let go.
“I want to believe you,” I said finally, my voice rough. “But it’s like you’re talking about someone else. I can’t… I can’t feel any of it.”
Ridley nodded, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears once more. I seemed to be doing a great job at making her cry. “I know. But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. We’ll figure this out together, okay?”
As I looked at her, really looked at her, I felt a flicker of something. Not memory, not recognition, but… intrigue. A spark of curiosity about the life we’d supposedly built, the love we’d shared. And despite my reservations, I found myself wanting to know more.
The silence that fell between us was thick enough to cut with a knife. Ridley’s words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of years I couldn’t remember. I watched her, this woman who claimed to be my wife, as she fidgeted with the edge of her leather cut. And that’s when it hit me.
“Turn around,” I said.
Her eyes widened a moment, and she stood, then turned so I could see her back. There, for all the world to see, Property of Venom .
My throat tightened as I struggled to find words, any words, to bridge the chasm between us. The beeping of the heart monitor seemed to grow louder in the stillness, a stark reminder of how close I’d come to oblivion.
Ridley’s gaze met mine, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths. She lifted her hand, then froze, as if she were going to reach for me. I wondered how hard it was for her to hold herself back like that. The distance between us felt both insurmountable and paper-thin.
“I know this is a lot to take in,” Ridley finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. “Why don’t I help you piece together the missing years? And it doesn’t have to be today. We have all the time in the world.”
I looked around the room. “Clearly not if I was injured bad enough to end up here.”
She swallowed hard. “Um, about the shooting… It was someone you knew.”
“Excuse me?”
She licked her lips. “Someone from the Dixie Reapers’ past called Tinker showed up. Apparently, everyone had thought the man died. You were shot and nearly died during a confrontation with him.”
Holy shit. Tinker hadn’t been dead? Now I really felt like I was missing huge chunks of my memory. What else had happened over all the missing years?
I studied her face, noting the determination etched in the lines around her eyes, the vulnerability in the slight tremble of her lower lip. This vibrant woman, so different from the playful girl I remembered, was offering to be my guide through the fog of my own mind.
“And if I never remember?” The question slipped out before I could stop it, harsh and abrupt.
Ridley flinched, but her gaze remained steady. “Then, maybe we can start over,” she said softly.
The resolve in her voice stirred something within me -- respect, perhaps, or the faintest glimmer of hope. I found myself nodding, despite the doubts still swirling in my mind.
“All right. One step at a time.” It wasn’t like I could deny anything she’d said. Not after seeing that picture and my name across her back.
Ridley’s face lit up, a tentative smile curving her lips. The sight tugged at something deep within me, a feeling I couldn’t quite name.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. She settled into the chair beside my bed, leaning forward slightly. “Where should we start?”
I shifted uncomfortably, the starched hospital sheets rustling beneath me. “The club,” I muttered, latching onto the one constant I could remember.
“Right. When we first met, you were the VP.”
“Why is that in past tense?” I asked.
“You stepped down several years ago. Now Saint is the VP. Um, you may remember a Prospect called Johnny? I’m not sure how far back your memories go.”
Jesus Christ. I’d clearly gotten older, but why the fuck had I stepped down? Or had it even been my choice?
“Torch is no longer President either. In fact, all the old officers turned the club over to younger guys at the same time. Savior, who was the Prospect Gabriel, is now the President. Tempest… Um, I doubt you’d remember him. He was a Prospect after we got together. He’s the Sergeant-at-Arms. There’s more, but I don’t want to overwhelm you more than I already have.”
“Tell me more,” I said gruffly, surprising myself with the request. “About… us.”
Ridley’s eyes softened, a mixture of hope and tenderness flickering across her features. Her perfume -- a delicate blend of lavender and vanilla -- wafting toward me. The scent stirred something deep within, a fleeting sense of comfort and desire that I couldn’t fully grasp.
“Well,” she began, her voice dropping to a lower, more intimate tone, “we’ve always had a bit of a wild streak together. I got pregnant with our first child, Farrah, almost immediately. She’s with a guy named Demon at the Devil’s Fury. In fact, he’s their Sergeant-at-Arms. Our middle child, Mariah, is also with them. Her man is called Savage. There’s a bit of story behind the two of them getting together. Let’s just say, you arranged it.”
“You said we had three children.”
She nodded. “Dawson is our youngest. He’s in his twenties, is a fireman, and is also the VP of a local club called the Swift Angels.”
I held up a hand. “My son is a what ?”
Her lips twitched. “You didn’t handle it well the first time you found out either. He’s really good at his job. He’s married to a sweet woman named Nora. They have a little girl and just had a baby boy. In fact, our granddaughter likes you more than me.”
I shook my head, frustrated by the void where that memory should have been. But as Ridley continued talking about our years together, painting a picture of stolen moments and passionate encounters, I found myself captivated. The way she described our connection -- the fire, the understanding, the unwavering support -- it resonated with a part of me I thought long buried.
“You’ve always been my rock, Jackson,” she murmured. “Even when the world’s gone to hell, you’re there, steady as ever.”
I jolted at the use of my real name, then swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. “Sounds like a fairy tale. You said it wasn’t, but it sounds like one to me.”
Ridley’s laugh was rich and throaty. “Oh, trust me, it hasn’t all been smooth sailing. We’ve had our share of fights. You’re as stubborn as they come. And when I’m angry, I’m not exactly easy to deal with.”
As she recounted one of our apparent disagreements, I found myself torn. Part of me still rebelled against the idea of this life she described -- husband, father, settled down. But another part, growing stronger with each passing moment, yearned for the connection she spoke of.
“I wish I could remember,” I admitted gruffly, my fists clenching in frustration. “It’s all there, just out of reach. Like trying to grab smoke.”
Ridley’s expression softened, and for a moment, I saw the weight of our situation reflected in her eyes. The silence that fell between us was heavy, laden with unspoken promises and shared uncertainty. I studied Ridley’s face, searching for any hint of deception, but found only open vulnerability and a fierce determination that stirred something deep within me.
“I can’t promise I’ll ever be the man you remember, but…” I trailed off, struggling to find the right words.
Ridley leaned forward, her gaze intense. “But?”
I inhaled deeply, the sterile hospital scent mingling with the faint, enticing whisper of her perfume. “But I’m willing to try.”
A small smile tugged at the corners of Ridley’s lips, a spark of hope igniting in her gaze. “That’s all I ask.”
The air between us crackled with a tension I couldn’t quite name. My body seemed to lean toward her of its own accord, drawn by some inexplicable magnetism. I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to reach out and touch her.
“So, where do we start?” I asked, desperate to break the charged silence.
Ridley’s smile widened, a mischievous glint in her eye. “How about with your favorite meal? I make a mean chili that always gets you talking. Of course, that can’t happen until you’re able to go home.”
For the first time since waking up in this strange new reality, I felt the ghost of a smile tug at my lips. “All right, darlin’,” I drawled, the endearment slipping out naturally.
A nurse came in and let us know visiting hours were over. I wanted to argue, and beg for Ridley to stay, but she’d given me a lot to think about.
As Ridley stood, gathering her things, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of anticipation. The road ahead was uncertain, fraught with obstacles, but something told me this fiery woman would make the journey worthwhile.