Double Crossed ((A Cobras MC Novella))
Page 1
Table of Contents
Double Crossed
Dedication
More Books by Colbie Kay
Playlist
Double Crossed
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Double Crossed
Double Crossed
Colbie Kay Copyright 2017©
Amazon Edition
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design by Kari Ayasha of Cover to Cover Designs
Model: Michael Joseph
Photography by Reggie Deanching of RplusMphoto
Editing & Formatting by E&F Indie Services
Due to strong language and sexual content, this book is not intended for readers under the age of 18+.
Dedication
To my readers.
More Books by Colbie Kay
Satan’s Sinners M.C. Series
City Lights
Quiet Country
Night Sky
Returning Home
Coming Soon - Changing Lanes
The Betrayed (A Rocker Series)
Novella Saving Grace
Book #1 Saving Dawson
Book #2 Surviving Colton
Coming Soon - Freeing Elijah
Twisted Series
Coming Soon - Beautifully Twisted
Georgia Peaches Series
Sweet Southern Secrets
Coming Soon - Sweet Southern Satisfaction
Playlist
Tesla - Love Song
Journey - Don’t Stop Believin’
Chicago - Will You Still Love Me
Tom Petty - Free Fallin’
Cyndi Lauper - Time After Time
Bush - Glycerine
Nick Jonas - Chainsaw
Tom- Petty - Mary Jane’s Last Dance
Poison - Every Rose Has Its Thorn
Guns N’ Roses - Sweet Child O’ Mine
Guns N’ Roses - Don’t Cry
Candlebox - Far Behind
Double Crossed
Chapter One
“Victoria, come out here so we can see if the dress fits.”
Ugh, my mother’s voice grates on my nerves. Gawking at myself in the mirror, I am horrified at the reflection staring back. The peach colored silk monstrosity they call a dress has a puffy bell skirt and huge, also puffy sleeves. The worst part of all is the gigantic bow stuck on the back. I look horrible! The awful color does nothing for my tanned complexion and the fitting of the dress has made my curves disappear. I can’t believe my sister would do this to me! It looks like I’ve been drowned in a tub of orange paint.
“Victoria!” My mother repeats my name through the dressing room door, a little louder this time.
“Coming, Mother.” Sighing deeply, I stand, unlock the door, and step out.
“Stand up straight.” She places her hands on my shoulders, pushing them back to correct my posture.
Stand up straight, Victoria.
Sit like a lady, Victoria.
Do this, do that, Victoria.
Gah, I’m tired of always being the good girl, always doing what I’m told, always being complacent. Ever since my sister moved out a few years ago, it’s all been directed towards me. Now I can’t wait to turn eighteen in a few months and run off to college this summer. Then I won’t have to always try to live up to my mother’s standards.
My parents are well-off; my dad is a CEO of a big company, so my mother doesn’t have to work. She’s the perfect proper housewife, PTA mother, and always the first to host events for the newest charity she comes up with. We live in a big house, have a lot of money, and I’m in a private Catholic school. I may have all of that, but it doesn’t mean I’m happy.
Most seventeen-year-old girls would love to have my life, but I hate it. I want to be a normal teenage girl. I want to experience all the fashion trends I see downtown. The big hair, tie-dyed clothes, the neon colors and loud makeup…
But I can’t—my mother would never allow it.
I’m stuck in the school uniform, or long dresses outside of school, with perfectly straight hair—Not one strand out of place, Victoria—and no makeup. As my mother says, “You wouldn’t want to attract the wrong boys’ attention, would you?”
We have a reputation to uphold, Victoria.
“It looks perfect, Vic!” my sister, Emily, gushes with a little too much enthusiasm.
Grimacing, I look down, my top lip turns up and, now that I have the Elvis lip, I try to figure out what she’s seeing that I’m not. She’s getting married in six months, so here I am in the bridal shop, about to be stuck wearing the worst dress ever. She met the ‘love of her life’ at college her freshman year at Harvard. I’ve seen them together, and I wouldn’t call it love; I’d say it’s more trying to please the parents than anything else. He’s going to be a lawyer, while my sister will get some degree and never use it. She will turn into my mother, and that makes me sad for her. We used to be so close, but distance and time as made us grow apart.
“I think it is a lovely choice, dear.” Mom smiles happily. I’m sure she feels like the cat that got the cream since it was her decision, not Emily’s. My mother is like an evil wedding planner—she takes over all decisions herself, dragging Emily along for the ride.
Putting on a smile, I over-exaggerate my love for this wasted piece of material. “I love it!” Lie, total lie. Turning on my heels, I head back to the dressing room, change, and walk back out, handing my mother the dress. “I’m going to head outside for some fresh air.”
I need out of this bridal shop; it’s stifling. I don’t know why I’ve been getting so worked up lately, but it’s almost too much to take. I may literally end up having a nervous breakdown. Maybe it’s because I’m getting close to being eighteen, maybe I’ve had enough of being told what to do…or maybe I just want to find what makes me happy and not do what everyone else expects of me.
Sucking in a few deep breaths, I stand there looking around at all the people walking on the sidewalk across the street. I get lost in my own thoughts, wondering where they are headed, what kind of life they have, and wishing I could be them.
Suddenly I’m bulldozed over, right out of my thoughts, and I almost fall to the ground. Two strong tattooed arms wrap around my waist, though, and I’m kept on my feet.
“Shit, I’m sorry.”
At the sound of his baritone voice, my eyes trail up from his black boots with a black and yellow bandana tied around the ankle. I take in his body, clad in stonewashed jeans and a t-shirt that says Poison with a black vest over it. When I reach his face, my cheeks are flushed from the thorough perusal of his muscular body. He’s gorgeous in a rough type of way—definitely not what I’m used to seeing from the boys at the Catholic school. His vibran
t green eyes are raking over me just the same. He towers over my five-foot three height, and his five o’clock shadow sits on a strong jaw. His dark hair is cut short on top and hangs long in the back. He’s dark, mysterious, and not a boy at all. He’s a man. All man!
His lips cock up in a grin right before he starts to run away.
I don’t know what propels my feet to start moving, but I chase after him. “Wait!” I yell out, but he doesn’t stop, so I keep running too.
After just two blocks, I’m out of breath trying to keep up, and finally he comes to a stop beside a motorcycle. “Wait,” I huff out, bending over to place my hands on my knees as I try to catch my breath. I must be crazy; the words leave my mouth before I can stop them. “Take me with you.”
His brow arches. “You sure ‘bout that?”
“No.” I laugh and add, “But…I need to get away from here.” I walk over and stand next to him.
“C’mon. We gotta hurry.” He pushes a helmet on the top of my head. I hike up my long floral dress and straddle the bike. He gets on the front. “Wrap your arms around me and hold on tight.” I do just that as the bike rumbles to life and vibrates underneath me.
When he first took off it was scary, but the longer we ride down the streets, taking turn after turn, I get more comfortable. By the time we hit the highway, I’m grinning from ear to ear behind the face shield on the helmet. The wind slaps against the bare skin of my arms and legs, and I feel free for the first time ever as we whiz in between vehicles.
When he reaches our destination, he parks on the gravel road and cuts the motorcycle off. It grows still and quiet, and then he climbs off. When he outstretches his hand towards me, I accept it and he helps me off the back. My legs have become jelly; his hand grips my waist until I become steady. The feel of his rough hand through the thin fabric of my dress makes me shiver, and a low gasp slips from between my lips. Good thing I still have the helmet on, because it would have been embarrassing if he heard it. The shakiness subsides and I get control of myself, so I pull the helmet off and survey our surroundings. We are in the middle of nowhere; all I can see around us is the gravel road ahead and behind. Stretching off on either side of us is nothing but tall grass up to my waist. I should be nervous—I mean, I did hop on the back of this stranger’s motorcycle and let him whisk me away. He could be dangerous—but I’m not scared with him. Strangely I feel safe.
“Come on.” He cups my hand in his.
We wade through the overgrown grass and weeds until we come across a small pond. He lets go of my hand before bending down to pick up a rock and skimming it into the water; it skips the surface a few times before sinking. “Tell me about yourself.” His eyes ghost over me once more, and then he picks up another rock, making it skip across the water too.
“There isn’t much to tell. What would you like to know?” Stepping over some of the dried grass, I sit down and pull my knees up to my chest, making sure my dress is down so I don’t give him a good look at my panties.
“A name would be nice.” He chuckles, walking over and taking a seat next to me. His legs are bent and his arms rest on his knees.
“Victoria.”
“Hello, Victoria. It’s nice to meet’cha. I’m Snake.” He holds his hand out for me to shake.
“Snake? What kind of name is that?” I giggle at the absurdity of it. Maybe that’s why he has a snake tattoo wrapping around his forearm, the head landing on the top of his hand with its mouth open, its teeth bared.
“It’s my road name. I prospect for the Cobras motorcycle club.”
“Oh!” My lips part slightly and I widen my eyes at this new information.
“You regret askin’ to come along now?” His teasing smile has my lips tilting up at the corners.
“I should, but no. I’ve never done anything like that before.” I pick a piece of the grass and twirl it in my fingers, keeping my head down.
“Yeah, why’d you wanna get away?” I can feel his eyes on me.
Tipping my head in his direction, I narrow my eyes against the beam of sunlight that shines through the parted clouds. “My mom. I’m tired of always being the good girl, always doing what’s expected. I guess I just wanted a moment of rebellion.” Taking advantage of the sunlight, I stretch my legs out, pull my dress up to mid-thigh, and lie back. “What were you running from?” Lifting my hand above my eyes, my gaze goes to Snake as I wait for his reply.
He mimics my position, lying down on the grass. “Just some guys; thought they could fuck with me, so I slit their tires.”
“Really?” My mouth hangs open and once again my eyes bulge. My shocked expression has Snake laughing.
“Yeah, really.” His hands lay flat on his shirt over his stomach and he stares at the sky. “How old are you?”
“Seventeen.” Now he’s the one who’s shocked.
“Christ, I thought you were older—you could pass for the sister of Phoebe Cates. I’m not gonna get a kidnapping charge, am I?”
The seriousness in his tone has me laughing now. “No. How old are you?”
“Twenty.” I would have guessed him to be older too.
“You think I look like Phoebe Cates?” I’m shocked at the reference because she is such a beautiful actress.
“Totally. You’re beautiful like her, and the resemblance is to the max: dark hair, tanned skin, dark eyes, the innocent look, and that cute little nose.” He reaches out and pokes the tip with a chuckle.
Swatting his hand away with a laugh, I say, “Wow! Thank you; no one has ever told me that before.”
“They should.” With that, we both look out at the water, succumbing to the quiet.
The sun is starting to set; we’ve been out here for hours and I think I might have fallen asleep at one point. It’s so relaxing out here. But…I hop up faster than a bull in a rodeo.
“We have to go! I’m late for dinner.” I lost track of time, and at my house dinner is at six every night—no earlier, no later.
When I walk in, it’s the same sight as every other night.
My dad sits at the head of the table, dressed in his expensive custom-tailored suit as always; my mom is in her designated seat across the table, wearing her favorite turquoise suede dress. My sister and soon-to-be brother-in-law sit on the left side of the table, both dressed to be perfect mini-mes of my parents. The two chairs on the right sit abandoned.
All eyes turn in my direction. “Where have you been? Emily and I finished at the bridal store, and when we walked outside you were gone.” My mother keeps calm and collected, but I don’t miss the anger in her gaze. “Now you’re late for dinner.”
Scurrying over to my seat opposite of my sister, my eyes drift to hers for a moment, but her head is down and she scoots her food around with her fork. Steeling myself, I turn back to my mother. “I’m sorry, Mother. I decided to go for a walk and time got away from me.”
“Time got away from you?” She repeats my excuse. “You had no business walking off when we were shopping for your sister’s wedding.”
“Nancy.” My father’s tone stops her from saying more, so he continues, directing his words at me. “If you want to go walking, at least let someone know so we don’t worry.” He smiles at me. I have always been a daddy’s girl—I’ll miss him when it’s time to leave for college.
“Yes, Daddy.” He nods and that is the end of it. Dinner is quiet, other than more talk about the wedding. Lately that’s the only subject discussed.
When my plate and water glass are empty, I take them to the kitchen, run hot water over my plate and silverware, and then walk to the winding staircase. As I head up to my room, the smile doesn’t leave my face. It stays there all throughout my nightly routine too; I shower, put on my nightclothes, brush my hair and teeth, turn off my overhead light and turn on the bedside lamp, then get under my covers. As I
grab a book off my nightstand, I think about what excuse I’ll tell my family on Monday. I’m meeting with Snake again and I cannot wait; today was so liberating and fun.
Reading about the romance between the two characters and relishing in the love they have, I wonder if that could be Snake and me. I know it’s ridiculous because I just met him, but I was instantly drawn to him. As I fall asleep, my mind stays cemented on the tall, dark, and handsome man, and the smile stays plastered on my face.
Chapter Two
Mom pulls up along the sidewalk of my private school in our luxury Cadillac, which is right in style with the other cars dropping their kids off. Looking out the window, I see Marie, my best friend, waiting in the drop-off zone for me, as usual. Her head turns in our direction, and when she spots our vehicle she smiles brightly, waving as the car comes to a stop. Her appearance matches mine at the moment: dark hair brushed straight down, a white polo, and grey skirt, both ensembles without a wrinkle in sight.
“Have a good day at school,” Mom drones her usual spiel on auto-pilot while I open the passenger door.
Stepping out, I bend a little to look back in the car. “I will—and don’t forget I don’t need a ride home.”
“I remember,” Mom replies, then looks around me to address my best friend. Mom yells out, “Hi, Marie,” while waving her hand like a madwoman.
If they only knew! I keep quiet, but roll my eyes.
“Hi, Mrs. Reynolds,” Marie responds politely as I shut the car door. She takes my hand in hers, and off we go to the girl’s bathroom.