Sour Cherry

by Nichole Severn

  When I opened my eyes, I smiled. “It’s like Romeo and Juliet, don’t you think?” I turned on my heel. Trying to soothe the pain in my face with quick caresses from my fingertips, I nearly ran face-first into the club’s Sergeant at Arms.

  “Whoa, Cherry, where you headed? Prez wants to see you.” Talon’s bright blue eyes darkened when he caught sight of my face. “Jesus.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Who did it?”

  Always the protector, but I guess that was his job. “Nobody. Listen, can you buy me a few minutes? I just need to...” I motioned to my face. “Clean up.”

  Talon ran his hands through a few strands of curly, dark hair. “Yeah, yeah. Sure. Don’t take forever though. I got a hot date.” He glanced behind me, nodding.

  I turned around, catching sight of a smaller version of Blondie. Stick thin, shot bleached hair and four-inch heels. Club Groupie. “Just don’t break her. I’ll be right back.”

  My original intention had been exactly what I’d told Talon. I went to the bathroom to clean up and chugged a couple Tylenol I kept in my pocket. Always be prepared. As I observed the damage to my nose in the small mirror, something occurred to me: Ryder wanted to see me.

  Not good. Only two subjects could possibly grant this kind of meeting: either he was about to hand me my walking papers with a blowtorch for the deal-gone-bad or call me out on my whereabouts last night.

  Neither seemed beneficial to me.

  I pulled the thousand bucks from my bra. Wasn’t much, wouldn’t take me far, but it was a start. A scoff left my lips as I remembered Blondie’s offer. I had a little over a thousand frozen in a block of ice in my freezer, but I imagine the club had already found it. That is, if my gut instincts were right. Either way, no matter what topic Ryder brought up, I wouldn’t walk out of that room in one piece.

  I nodded to myself. I had to leave.

  Talon would come knocking if I didn’t show up soon, but it wasn’t like I’d be able to squeeze through the tiny window to escape. Ryder had sealed the window when the club took over the building, probably for situations like this.

  I’d have to walk out the front door.

  “You can do this. You’ve prepared for this.” I ran through the lines I’d designed should the occasion arise.

  My hand trembled over the doorknob. I took another cleansing breath in order to keep my focus and quietly opened the door. No one seemed to be guarding me or even looking for me. Too easy.

  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.

  Truth was, I’d been looking for a way out for a while. Practically since my initiation. The drugs and guns were getting too much, but I couldn't just disappear. The Outriggers held chapters in every state. I wouldn’t make it five feet across the border with that many eyes out looking for me. Nobody likes a deserter.

  I waited another few minutes before jogging across the street. If I were him, I’d already know who headed for my door and run out the back, but I hoped Cooper’s ability to pleasure a woman was his only talent. I knocked softly, searching the street for signs of spies. My paranoia level had reached an all-time high, but the Outriggers had never been a club to just let a member just walk away.

  The door opened.

  My eyes connected with Cooper’s and his narrowed.

  “So that’s what they�
�re so mad about.”

  “What?”

  “Your club is looking for you. Something about you not showing up to take your punishment. Some job gone wrong.” A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth and I had to grind my teeth together in order to control myself.

  “Can I come in?” I asked through gritted teeth. I didn’t have the patience to explain what’d happened and wanted to get off the street.

  He blocked the doorway more fully, pushing forward. Cooper looked out into the street, showing off the dark stubble forming at his jawline. “No.”

  I can’t believe this. “Why not?” Millions of answers to that question fluttered across my mind and I supported over half of them. However, I was desperate. I’d do anything I had to in order to get inside and he knew it.

  “For one, you deserted your club. Your president even asked for our help in finding you and I agreed.”

  A jolt of anxiety shot straight into my chest. Shit. I opened my mouth, but he cut me off before I could speak.

  “And two, I don’t like you.”

  The rumble of a Harley echoed down the street. Double shit.

  I glanced over my shoulder. There was no way they could find me this fast unless... panic clawed its way up my throat, tainting every word as I turned on him. “You called them?”

  “What was I supposed to do?” Cooper asked.

  My vision blurred. Always happened when I couldn’t keep control of my emotions. A mixture of fury and sorrow crushed my windpipe. If I didn’t get myself under control, bad things would happen. For one, I’d faint. Always came with the heart defect. “How—”

  Everything went black.

  ****

  The smell of bleach assaulted my nose. I jerked awake, but wished I hadn’t.

  Cooper stared down at me, concern written all over his expression. “Are you awake this time?”

  I ignored his question, my spidey-senses freaking out. I sat upright in the bed and tried not to shiver when he pressed his hand against my shoulder. My eyes locked on his. The last thing I remembered was the Harley screaming down the street and this sure as hell didn’t look like Cooper’s apartment. I had first-hand knowledge. “Where am I?”

  He sat back in his chair, hands stretched behind his head. “Safe house.”

  I diverted my gaze from the tight T-shirt stretched across his muscular chest to study the red brick walls. Every corner of the room dripped with dried tar, but it didn’t explain the bleach. The floor sported a wet spot. “Did you just clean up a crime scene?” I rubbed my eyes of sleep. “The bleach is giving me a headache.”

  “You threw up on my floor.”

  Oh, God. My face grew hot. “I’m sorry. It happens when—”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Cooper stood. He turned his back on me and walked across the room to the dresser shoved in the corner. He riffled through the drawers as he spoke. “You’ll have to ditch your clothes. Your club knows what you were wearing when you disappeared. I have a couple sets of sweats you can borrow until I have time to get you something else. Until then, there’s hair dye in the bathroom and food in the fridge. Don’t leave.”

  “Where are you going?” I pushed out of the bed, accepting the clothing he offered on unsteady feet. The sweatpants and T-shirt were male. His. And smelled like him. It took everything I had not to bury my nose in them. Every second of our night together replayed through my head in an instant.

  The bed. The couch. The kitchen table. All had played a key role in our short acquaintance.

  Mmm.

  Scented with a mixture of cinnamon and man, Cooper waved a hand in front of my face, intensifying my urge to tackle him all over again. I wouldn’t even need a couple drinks in me this time. “You didn’t hear me, did you?”

  “Huh?” I snapped my mouth shut, coming back to reality. Yeah, definitely top two, maybe even number one in the lineup.

  “I said I’m going back to your clubhouse.” Cooper gave me a crooked smile. He started toward the door, calling back over his shoulder. “Want me to say hello for you?”

  “Wait.” I lurched toward him, my fingers wrapping around his muscled forearm.

  He froze, looking down at my grasp on him. Without looking directly at me, his eyes told me touching was off limits.

  As if I’d been shocked, I jerked my hand away, but it didn’t divert my reasoning. “Why did you change your mind? Why help me?”

  He didn’t answer right away, forcing my stomach to knot. Maybe he hadn’t helped me. Maybe he’d placed me right where he wanted me. Ripe for the picking.

  Or killing.

  “Well, I couldn’t just leave you there.”

  His answer gave nothing away. I didn’t know how to respond and watched him walk down the hall. “Are you just going to leave me here alone?”

  The door at the end of the hall slammed shut.

  “I’ll go through your underwear drawer!”

  Chapter Three

  Oh, boy. My fingertips brushed over a pair of gray cotton briefs. I’d taken a pair just like these off him last night. Only black. With my teeth. The scent of peppermint sent tingles down my spine. My favorite scent and partly the reason I’d stayed overnight during our brief time together.

  The safe house turned out to be void of furniture, aside from the bed and dresser in the bedroom, and highly wired with audio/visual equipment. Even now a camera blinked at me from high in the corner of the room. I made a show of pulling his underwear out, running my fingers over the fabric, smelling it. I shot a smile toward Big Brother. “I hope you weren’t planning on leaving me here for long. I tend to get nosy.”

  The camera merely stared at me, no signs I’d been heard.

  I hadn’t exactly planned on hiding out in a dump, with a rival of my club/my one-night stand, but I was alive.

  Thanks to Cooper.

  A scoff rushed past my lips when I remembered the last thing he’d said before I blacked out.

  What was I supposed to do?

  In Column A, he’d given my club my location. Presumably for a reward of some type. But bringing me here? Keeping an eye on me? Those actions didn’t correspond to someone looking for a reward, and went straight into Column B.

  I shoved his underwear back in the drawer and pushed it shut in frustration. Glaring at the camera to my left, I stuck my tongue out like a child. Men.

  “Why can’t you just be the simple jackasses you’re supposed to be?” I asked the camera.

  No response.

  I hoped he’d see my little show of going through his things later. He’d told me not to leave the house, but I had every intention of running this show. This was my club we were dealing with, and my life. If Cooper Nolan thought he could lock me away to confront later, he had another think coming.

  I twisted around and stalked toward the bed. The oversized sweats hung off my hips uncomfortably, catching beneath my feet with every step.

  I wanted to scream.

  I’d never been a fan of staying indoors all day. Cabin Fever. That’s what they called it. Anxiety swam beneath my skin. Any second now, I’d break down. I could feel the walls closing in, the air suffocating me slowly. I closed my eyes and lay back on the bed. I just had to breathe. With nothing to do in this Godforsaken house, I needed to keep my thoughts preoccupied. I checked my nose again. Just after a couple hours the pain seemed to have diminished ten times. Still sore, but I didn’t feel like crying when I touched it.

  The pillows were drenched in musk. Cooper’s. It seemed I’d be haunted by his scent everywhere I went. Once again, I was reminded of our brief performance together. He’d smelled just like that: sweat, cinnamon, and peppermint. I wondered absently how often he stayed here, but the thought didn’t last long.

  I remembered the way his calloused fingers traced lines up the insides of my right thigh, how his tongue followed the trail he’d created. All the way to my core.

  A scuffling noise brought me back to reality.

  My eyes shot open. I barely registered
the fact my hand had made it beneath the borrowed sweatpants when I caught sight of Cooper in the doorway. I bolted upright so fast, black spots floated in front of me. “That was fast.”

  I fought for control over my breathing, but the heat in my face only made it harder.

  He stood motionless, a smile plastered on his smug face.

  Ass.

  “Please,”—he motioned toward me—“continue.”

  I took a deep breath to hold back the retort telling him exactly what’d I’d rather do. It consisted of that alarm clock on the nightstand meeting his face, but I kept it to myself. “Anything new?”

  Cooper stepped into the room, all six feet three inches of him towering over me when he stopped. “Yes.”

  I stood my ground, my gaze steady on his. “Are you going to explain further?”

  He chuckled. His sweet breath drifted across my face, and despite people breathing on me being my biggest pet peeve, I didn’t flinch. “Tell you what,” he said as he pressed himself against me, “for every minute you let me watch, I’ll give up a piece of information.”

  “Watch what?”

  “You.”

  My mouth nearly dropped to the floor. I knew what he meant, but I wanted to claim ignorance. “What makes you think I didn’t finish?”

  A close-lipped smile is all he gave me for a series of breaths. “Did you?”

  I notched my chin up just a bit further. “Yes.”

  Without warning, Cooper gave me a quick peck on the lips, avoiding my nose thankfully. “Too bad.” He stepped away and out into the hallway.

  I couldn’t move. For treating me like a pariah earlier, he certainly didn’t mind kissing me now. I imagined the change had been recent. As in, I’d-been-caught-with-my-hand-down-my-pants recent. I brushed the tingling sensation from my lips with the back of my hand.