Sour Cherry(3)

“How do I get a hold of you?” she yelled across the street.

I didn’t answer, carefully setting my helmet over my head to avoid my nose. I threw one leg over my pride and joy and started the ignition. Thoughts of the hit I’d just been paid to participate in disappeared as I focused keeping my breathing even. Not knowing what would happen to me today set me on edge. Less than ten minutes later, I drove into Outrigger territory. Anxiety clawed its way up my throat. I’d been a member for more than two years, but my status as Vice President wouldn’t cushion the punishment waiting for me.

I’d fucked up. Big time.

I’d be surprised if the club didn’t burn off my membership tattoo for letting one of the largest shipments of cocaine out of my sight.

My bike rumbled beneath me as I shifted down and pulled into the shop’s parking lot. Other members of the crew avoided my gaze as I parked. I threw the kickstand down, pulled off my helmet, and stepped onto the asphalt.

The shop employed every member of the Outriggers Motorcycle Club on paper and served as headquarters for meetings. The cinderblock walls, plywood doors and oil-stained cement gave cops the impression of a garage, but that end of business had died out long ago. If you needed your bike fixed, you had to do it yourself.

A bike I didn’t recognize had been parked on the other side of the lot, another behind it I couldn’t see. Looked like Satan’s Army had already arrived, which meant the meeting had started without me.

I pushed my way through the side door, and was immediately confronted with the long, oak table surrounded by my brethren. As the only female member, I’d gotten plenty of lusty, offended and confused looks in my day, but now? The Grim Reaper himself stared out through my president’s eyes.

“What the hell happened to your face?” Ryder Branson, President of the Outriggers, stood. He walked over to me then cradled my face with both hands.

His touch sent a shudder down my spine. Not only had he taken what was once a good, honest, and family-oriented club and turned it into his personal shell company for dealing blow, he gave me the creeps. “Skateboard accident.” No point in telling them some Double-D’d hoodlum paid me to kill someone.

“Have Trish look at it when we’re through.” He motioned for me to sit. “Cherry, you’ve met Vasquez, President of Satan’s Army, Nevada.”

I maneuvered around the standing members to my reserved chair and sat. My gaze connected with Vazquez and I nodded curtly. I’m sure the embarrassment running rampant in my body showed through the new bruises on my face. Nothing like a Vice President showing up late to a members meeting.

“And this is his VP, Cooper Nolan.”

I immediately wished Blondie had killed me.

Slowly, I directed my gaze to the man whose apartment I’d left this morning in a hurry. My one-night stand. Shit.





Chapter Two

The meeting went as expected, except I’d survived against all odds.

However, I couldn’t say the same for the newest VP of Satan’s Army. I’d cornered him at the back of the in-house bar during the celebrations. Outriggers and Satan’s Army were now partners in the cocaine business and it looked like I’d be stuck with him. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were S.A.” I took a swig of my beer as I kept a lookout for any signs my ass would be handed to me soon. “This was supposed to be a one-time thing, remember? Never see each other again?”

“You didn’t really give me a chance to talk.” Cooper gave me that devilish grin that’d gotten us into trouble in the first place.

“You will not blame this on me,” I hissed. “You came onto me.”

He laughed then took a drink from his own beer. “Whatever you say, baby.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“You didn’t seem to mind last night.” Those steel-gray eyes of his roamed over the party. He wouldn’t even give me the courtesy of looking at me.

Bastard.

“Skateboard accident, huh? Looked a little more serious than that when I left this morning.”

The anger in the center of my chest burned hotter. “You saw me?”

“Hard to miss a cat fight.”

“It wasn’t a fight.” At least not on my end.

Cooper’s laugh only fueled the fire. “What’d you do to piss off...?” He cupped both hands in front of his chest and I knew what he meant.

Disgusting.

“Ask Big and Blonde next time you see her.”

He didn’t even react.

I reached out lighting-fast and dug my fingernails into his tattooed-to-hell-and-back arm. I secretly hoped my nails had left injuries across his back. “Listen to me. No one can know about what we did. Do you hear me? They’ll kill us.” I searched the bar again, ensuring we weren’t watched or overheard.