Sour Cherry

by Nichole Severn

  The combination of the angle of my head, the pressure from Treja’s hand to keep it that way and my bound hands made my shoulders ache. I tried to ignore the discomfort. Any small movement on my part would only press the blade closer to the delicate skin of my throat and I wasn’t about to be responsible for my own death.

  “My heart was taken from me when my own team left me to die in that hellhole,” Treja spat. “You were my brother. I trusted you!”

  The blade pulled a gasp from my lips as Treja pressed the sharp edge further into my skin. This had nothing to with me at all, I realized. I’d been taken to prove a point, to make Cooper hurt the way Treja had been hurt all those years ago. How could I explain to him that my death wouldn’t bring him the satisfaction he wanted? That Cooper had chosen the agency over me?

  “I didn’t leave you,” Cooper assured him, his tone lacking the anger I’d heard a few seconds ago. “They pulled me out and I couldn’t go back.” The chair creaked as he moved. “I’m sorry, Treja. I never would have left if I’d known you were alive.”

  His statement threw the room into silence.

  I struggled to keep my breathing under control, panic rising in the center of my chest. A bad feeling worked its way into the pit of my stomach. Cooper’s apology sounded sincere, but the machete grazing my throat hadn’t moved. I gulped air as if these breaths would be my last.

  “You are not sorry yet, hermano,” Treja whispered and turned his gaze onto me. He studied me, twisting my head from side to side. The movement sent fire down my spine and I gritted my teeth together to prevent my tears from falling. “But you will be. My lovely Ana killed herself because she believed me dead and now, you’ll pay for her blood by losing your love.”

  “It’s me you want, Treja. Not her.”

  At that bold statement, the man with the blade at my throat seemed to lose focus. His eyes glazed as he looked at me, but I couldn’t bring myself to make any sudden movements. “Pity, really. So beautiful a creature, just like my Ana.” His gaze sharpened. “You know you have the same look on your face that your father did when I cut off his head?”

  I tensed under his hold, my eyes widening in disbelief.

  “Ryder never told you?” Treja chuckled, his shoulders rocking the machete harder against my neck. I struggled to pull away from the pain, the chair screaming in protest as it moved against the concrete floor, but I didn’t stop. He held me fast and leaned in closer. “He found out your daddy was CIA. He was the one who ordered the hit on your old man, but he couldn’t afford you finding out, so he hired me to do it. All I had to do was make sure he didn’t come home. And to think, you had the pieces to the puzzle in your hands at our first meeting, but you willingly handed them over to me.”

  I froze, my lungs burning from holding my breath. I tried to understand exactly what he’d said, running the words through my mind over and over. The package. The exchange. It’d all been a cover up for my dad’s murder?

  He placed the tip of the machete on my cheek, tracing a line from my left eye to my lips. “So now you know.” Treja nodded, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips as his free hand wandered lower. Disgust rippled through me when his fingertips slipped beneath the collar of my shirt. “Shame Cooper picked you out of so many. I would have liked to meet you under different circumstances.” His accent did nothing to calm my racing heartbeat and my instincts told me he’d finished his revelations for the day.

  The machete left my face, but reappeared at my throat.

  “Descanse en paz, chica.” Treja swung the blade back, his eyes on me.

  But then a hand reached up and wrapped around Treja’s wrist from behind, spinning him to face Cooper. He’d freed himself somehow, but only after Cooper wrenched the machete out of Treja’s hand and laid the Mexican onto the floor did I realize Blondie had been knocked out cold, too.

  Treja lay motionless on the concrete, his breathing even.

  Cooper stood over him, trying to catch his breath. His mouth hung open slightly as he stared down at the man he’d believed to be dead for so long. I sympathized with him. Betrayal by your brothers resonated in your bones for life.

  He’d saved my life yet again and my heart flooded with gratitude. I wished I could put my arms around him. “I know you have a lot to deal with right now, but can you please untie me?”

  “Oh, God.” Cooper came back to his senses, circling behind me. A few tugs on my wrists granted my freedom and he moved back in front of me to work on my ankles.

  “Thank you.” I rubbed at my wrists absently, running my fingertips over the indentations from the ropes. It felt so good to have feeling in my fingers again, even if they were needles of pain. Testing the nicks on my throat, I stared at the top of Cooper’s head as he freed the last rope, but was suddenly wrenched to my feet.

  Cooper gripped my shoulders like he’d never let me go. “Did he hurt you? Let me see your neck.” He stared at me, hard. “God, I’m so sorry.”

  I’d never seen this particular combination of concern and sincerity—almost possession, actually—in real life before, and I honestly didn’t know how to react. “I’m fine. I just—”

  His lips found mine, warm, eager. I practically melted into his embrace, my shoulders sinking in relief as he pulled me in closer. My tongue tangled with his and for a moment, everything disappeared. Treja, Blondie, Ryder, even Amelia never existed in the world his kisses took me to. Fantasies chased through my mind. The club didn’t exist, my old man hadn’t been murdered by a psychopath and Cooper and I had a future together.

  I never wanted to leave.

  Butterflies swarmed in my belly as his teeth nicked my bottom lip and I was left breathless when he pulled away. I forced myself to focus. “Wow. It’s almost as if you like me or something.”

  I threw his words back at him, waiting to see his reaction. What did he really want from me? In my book, actions spoke louder than words and Cooper’s actions contradicted everything he’d said to me a couple hours ago. Hope that he’d changed his mind blossomed in my chest, but I quickly locked it out. The brand new wall I’d constructed from his rejection helped, but began to crumble when his brown eyes caught mine.

  Cooper brushed his thumb over my bottom lip, taking a few more stones out of my wall and warming my ladyparts. “I was an idiot to think I could push you away,” he whispered.

  I didn’t know what to say.

  A rumbling noise left Treja’s throat, effectively ending the hopeful moment between us. I couldn’t hold back the laugh building from the tension. “Did he just snore?”

  The edges of Cooper’s mouth pulled upward and I fell for him all over again, sucked in just by his smile. “I hit him pretty hard.”

  “So what now?” I wondered if he’d get my double meaning. Not only did I want to know what would happen to Treja and Blondie, I wanted to know what would happen to us. In so many words he’d told me his job was more important than me, but despite my curiosity, I didn’t want to hear it again.

  Cooper inhaled deeply, glancing down to Treja then over to Blondie. “I have to call this in, tell my superiors what happened.”

  I nodded in agreement then crossed my arms over my chest, suddenly cold when he stepped away to pull out his phone. So many things crossed my mind as I listened to his conversation. Everything that had happened in the past week, Ryder setting me up, Treja nearly killing me and Cooper. Now Ryder would go to jail, and Treja would return to the CIA to be debriefed. I shuddered. Wouldn’t that be fun? But it all led to one simple conclusion: I was finally free.

  And nothing in the world sounded better than curling up in bed.

  ****

  I’d been given exactly one week to get my affairs in order before confronting my club with my side of the story. Cooper had taken care of Treja and Blondie while Ryder and his old lady had been shipped off to separate holding locations. Conspiracy to commit murder would buy them seven years apiece when they were officially sentenced and I couldn’t imagine it’d been w
orth it. While Ryder hadn’t killed my father, he deserved every minute behind bars for plotting his murder.

  I sat at the oak table, surrounded by the men who’d turned against me under orders, while the acting president opened the meeting. Silence engulfed the room, all eyes on the empty chair at the head of the table. The president’s chair.

  The weight of their stares pressed against my chest like an anvil. I’d never been good at public speaking, but this time, my membership and life were on the line. Either they’d condemn me as a traitor or recognize me as a hero. Only giving them all the information would decide my fate.

  I told them almost everything.

  The exchange. The man with the tattoo who turned out to be my father’s murderer on Ryder’s orders. His involvement with the cartel. Blondie. Everything except that Cooper was a CIA agent. That was his story to tell.

  By the end of it, the tension in my chest had tripled. I met my brothers’ gazes head on, ten pairs of eyes, trying to decipher their thoughts. I wasn’t in the wrong. I’d done what I had to in order to survive and I wouldn’t apologize. I wouldn’t let them take off my tattoos with a blowtorch either, but taking the day one step at a time was the only thing keeping me sane.

  When nobody spoke, I continued, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Whatever your decision is today, just know Ryder and Amelia warped this club for their own purposes. They got us into some pretty deep shit and I don’t think it was entirely fair to us. We took an oath to ride to the death, but I know we all want to leave this world on our own terms, not with a bullet in our head and blow in our pocket. Continuing the path Ryder laid out for us will make that journey a hell of a lot shorter. But please understand I don’t blame any of you for what happened or for what this club has become.”

  I sat back in my chair, snapping my mouth shut before I made things worse.

  Juarez, the acting president, stood then and my gaze followed his movements. The gavel in his hand would decide my fate, the old wood responsible for the lives and deaths of many. Club votes were irrefutable and my throat tightened with anxiety.

  “We’ve all heard Cherry’s account of matters over the last week—some of us have even witnessed them,” Juarez said. His gaze settled on me, a sad and remorseful expression lingering on his features. “Now we vote.”

  All nine of my seated brethren exhaled simultaneously.

  “All in favor of electing Cherish Williams as President of the Outriggers Motorcycle Club of Las Vegas, NV, raise your hand.”

  I straightened. “Wait. What?”

  Every member in the room raised their right hand. Except me.

  Shock coursed through my veins as I stood. “You want me to be president?” I asked Juarez.

  He sat, setting the gavel on its block, then smiled. “Well, you are Vice President, Cherry. You’re next in line for the chair. We just wanted to know what you had in mind for this club’s future.”

  My gaze darted toward the president’s chair and the buzzing sensation in my ears directed my body to follow. Sidestepping behind the seat, I let my fingertips trace the worn leather slowly. Ryder was gone. I’d been called as president. My brethren would vote on and carry out my orders.

  I pulled the chair out and carefully planted myself within its comfort. It had nothing to do with the chair and everything to do with feeling of belonging at the head of the Outriggers table. I belonged in this seat. It felt right.

  No more running. No guns. No drugs. No blood.

  I lifted my chin parallel to the table, placing my hands on its polished surface as I confronted the ten members staring back at me. I inhaled slowly, taking in the scent of wood polish, leather, and motor oil. There was only one thing left to do. “I accept.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The election party rocked the entire property. Bikers from all over the city, along with their groupies, drank free beer, made barrel fires throughout the parking lot and danced the night away in celebration. They came up to me in packs, slapping me on the back, shaking my hand.

  I even got a nickname from the other clubs, including Satan’s Army.

  Sour Cherry.

  Sweet like a cherry, but a true sour puss when it came to accepting congratulations. I didn’t so much mind the congrats as I did the attention. This entire party had been thrown on my behalf and I’d been bludgeoned out of my comfort zone upon my acceptance of the post. They said I had to get used to it. Being the first female president broke a lot of barriers between the clubs and surprisingly, they were excited to see what I could do.

  The heavy metal music drowned out most conversations, but from what I could tell as I made my way around the property, everyone enjoyed themselves. Too bad I couldn’t.

  The person I wanted to celebrate with hadn’t shown up yet.

  I hadn’t seen Cooper since that night he’d saved me from getting my head chopped off, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever see him again. Satan’s Army had overthrown their president the second news of Ryder’s arrest came through, and Cooper had taken Vazquez’s place as president. The CIA had what they wanted, and so did Cooper. As the first order of business, he’d officially severed ties between the clubs, with my support, and had no reason to come to a rival club’s party, even if his club had shown up.

  Another hand landed on my back as I passed through a group of riders and I shot them a quick smile. My legs felt like jelly and my back bruised from so many congratulations. I headed toward the clubhouse with my mind on the extra apartment shoved in the back. I only wanted to lie down for a couple minutes. It’d be rude to completely disappear from my own party.

  When I opened the door, however, I found somebody already had the same plan, only what he and his groupie were doing didn’t qualify as rest. I eased the door shut and leaned back against it.

  I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the sounds of ravenous sex behind me, but failed. Memories of the times with Cooper flooded my mind and my stomach twisted. I missed him. I wished he’d had the guts to show up.

  “You look tired.”

  My eyes shot open, focusing on Cooper less than two feet away.

  I hadn’t heard him approach and straightened. Clearing my throat, I pushed a stray piece of hair behind one ear. “Yeah. Long week.”

  My entire body vibrated in happiness as he stepped closer.

  “I hear congratulations are in order,” he said. Cooper placed both hands on either side of my head, boxing me in.

  I didn’t mind in the least. “Ditto. I’m sure your friends are very happy with your new post in Satan’s Army.”

  Cooper tilted his head, his brown gaze studying me from toe to head. “I wouldn’t know. I resigned.”

  My lungs deflated in less than a second. I couldn’t wrap my head around his statement, yet wanted to jump up and down with the excitement galloping in the center of my chest. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I heard you right. You resigned?”

  He pressed me back into the door with is body, his feet pushing mine apart to fit right up against me. “You have no idea how awful it was to see Treja hold a machete to your perfect skin.”

  I swallowed hard from the memory, but didn’t pull away from him. I wanted to hear more. “Well, I know how awful it was to feel it.”

  “When I opened my eyes and saw you tied to that chair, I knew I could never live with myself if something happened to you. I would have killed him outright and hunted down every man in his organization to bring you justice.” Cooper’s breath brushed against the sensitive skin of my collarbones and sent shivers straight between my legs.

  “Can you please forgive me, Cherry? I was an idiot to think my job was more important than you. It just took me almost losing you to realize it.”

  Cooper kissed me then with a brush of his lips over mine. “I’m so sorry. I love you and I never want to let you go.”

  I couldn’t answer with arousal licking up my body and I pressed against him harder. Pulling him down by the collar, I kissed him back, my aches and pains disappe
aring as I relaxed into his hold. When I pulled away, I had to force myself, but the smile on my face remained. “How is this going to work with both of us as president of rival clubs?”

  “I had an idea.”

  “You’ve thought this through?” I asked.

  He nodded and my love for him expanded. With such a simple action, he'd told me he wanted us to be together and that we could be happy apart from our clubs. I sobered in that instant. “Let’s hear it.”

  “Patch over.” His expression remained light and full of love, but his eyes explained his seriousness.

  “You want Outriggers to patch over Satan’s Army? Into one club?” I barely waited for him to answer. “Who’d be president?”

  “You.”

  With over twenty members, the entire Las Vegas valley as territory and Cooper at my side…I couldn’t even imagine the possibilities. I hadn’t been prepared to take the president’s chair for my club, but now that I’d accepted the position, I was familiar with the sense of rightness flooding my instincts. Cooper wanted us to be one club, to be together. “In that case, I love you, too.”

  His next kiss roused the aggressive side of my libido, but there was something else we had to address.

  “You still have to make up for choosing your job over me.” I spoke as he worked his tongue and teeth over the tendon between my head and shoulder.

  His responding smile made me shiver and Cooper pressed his swollen groin into me again. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Still got those cuffs?”

  “I have six pairs at home,” he answered, his voice rough.

  A shiver chased down my spine with the possibilities. I gave him a wicked grin, smoothing out his collar nonchalantly. “Let's go get them.”

  A word about the author...

  Nichole Severn graduated with a degree in psychology from Utah Valley University and is an active member of International Thriller Writers and Mystery Writers of America. Her stories are filled with edge-of-your-seat-suspense, psychological trauma and bad guys readers love to hate. She resides with her husband in Las Vegas, NV.