Sour Cherry(5)

I slid into the hallway, slowly closing the bathroom door behind me. Mug shots of current members stared down at me as I made my way to the end of the hall, each silently judging me for betraying the club I vowed to protect. Even my own eyes stared at me with seething hatred. Then again, I’d just been arrested at four in the morning on suspicion of dealing cocaine. I could have just been grumpy at the time.

At the end of the hall, I could go left or right. Back into the celebration of a new alliance with Satan’s Army, taking my punishment with dignity. Or I’d keep all my skin and skulk away like a coward, effectively leaving behind the hard work I’d put into the club for the last two years and ruining the progression for women everywhere in MCs.

What made me stop was the club’s patch, the same patch I wore on my back. The Outriggers Motorcycle Club promoted balance in all things. Two swords, their hilts inlayed with sapphires, the strongest gemstone aside from diamonds, met in the center, crossed with tips pointed upward. Symbolizing spiritual, mental, and physical healing, the sapphires had become the signature element of the Outriggers, every member encouraged to wear one at all times. Above the swords, signifying strength and military mightiness, the club’s name regaled onlookers with pride. Below them, however, is what stopped me.

My club’s motto read “Guarded by the Faithful”. “Faithful” translated into both past and current members.

My fingers absently moved over the tattoo on my right wrist.

A vulture atop an eight ball.

With my pulse in my throat, I stared down at it through dim lighting. I’d made a promise to more than my club when I got this tattoo. To my own guardian angel, in fact. But couldn’t promises be broken if your life was at stake?

I swallowed hard. Then went left, flinching at every sound wafting toward me from the party. Clinks from glasses, celebratory hollers from familiar voices, giggles from the groupies. Each echoed loud in my mind. I kept moving toward the front door, prayers of freedom racing through my head.

I’d made it outside when I heard my name.

“Cherry, baby. You’re missing the party.” Female voice.

I froze, anxiety clawing its way up my throat. I couldn’t fight or shoot her. How the hell would I get away from my president’s old lady? I turned toward Amelia slowly, taking in all six feet of her. “Not in the mood.” Wasn’t that an understatement.

Amelia sauntered forward, her heels scuffling the pavement. I never understood why a six-foot-something woman wore heels. Maybe Ryder liked his women Amazonian-like. In skinny jeans and a tight tank top, the president’s wife smiled at me. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

Always the mother hen.

How could I tell the woman who’d stepped into my mother’s shoes her husband most likely wanted to skin me alive? Or kill me. I licked my suddenly dry lips. “Cramps.” Of all the excuses, I had to pick the most ridiculous.

“Do you want something for ʼem?” Amelia asked. She stepped completely into me. Running her hands up and down my arms, she brought me in for a hug. “I’ve got some good stuff.”

I practically melted. Not only was I betraying my club, I’d betrayed the one woman who cared about me. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see her again, but I couldn’t forget Amelia had her fair share of decision making in the club. Ryder included her in every piece of club business. She might even know about my fuck up by now. “No, thanks.” I pulled away. “I’m just going to sleep them off.”

Another smile told me my lie worked and a pang of regret speared my heart. “Ok, baby. I’ll see you later?”

I nodded, unable to answer from the lump swelling in my throat. I needed to get out of here.

Amelia went back into the clubhouse, her short brown hair blowing in rhythm to the hot Las Vegas breeze. Traces of her scent lingered on my clothing and I breathed it in. I’d miss it, the feeling of family. My ass had been saved numerous times by the club. They’d taken me into their protection when I needed it the most, practically helped raise me when my father prospected twenty years ago.

I couldn’t let it go to my head and I couldn’t let them kill me.

I mounted my bike and took off.

****

I'd like to say I found a safe place to hide, that I’d gone home and everything turned out okay. But life had never smacked me upside the head with logic.

I waited outside in the street, staring across it as the man I’d come to see entered his apartment. Still wearing his cut, Cooper looked every bit as tempting as I remembered last night. Too bad he’d turned out to be an ass.

But all’s fair in gangs. Even in the ones claiming to be plain old motorcycle clubs, men rarely showed their true natures. I’d learned that the hard way.