Cobra: Reapers MC Book 8 Page 2

  As soon as we hit the outside steps that lead up to our trailer I see Damon, our Prez and Amara who’s Damon’s sister and also the VP of the club standing beside him. Both of their eyes are glued on me, wearing bleak expressions on their faces. Dixon stands across from them, smoking a joint but instead of a somber look, the bastard smirks. He and I don’t get along too well, so somethin’ is sure about to fuck my life up. I can feel it.

  “C’mon, we have a lot to go over.” Damon calls out from under the porch. He turns and heads in the clubhouse with Amara and Dixon following suit. Boog and I push the door open, go inside and head towards church. When we walk inside the room where church is held I’m confused, seeing only the five of us are here. We’re not like the other motorcycle clubs around. While they usually restrict who comes into church and hears the important shit, we don’t. We’re the Reapers and we’re a family.

  “Where’s Chaz, Widow, Hawk, Kade and Mouser?” I inquire, lookin’ to the Prez himself.

  Damon shares a look with his sister as he takes a seat at the head of the table, slamming the gavel down. “Church is now in session. They’re not here because this isn’t news they need to be aware of. I’ll tell them what they need to know in a couple weeks when things have progressed.”

  Drawing my brows together, “I’m not followin’. Wanna explain this further?”

  Amara speaks up, “Your stone-cold bitch is double crossin’ us, that’s what’s up.”

  Boog cringes, suckin’ in a breath and takes a seat beside Damon. “Way to ease Cobra in on that one, Amara.”

  She rolls her eyes, obviously irritated and is sure to tell us all how she really feels. “I’m not here to tip toe around his feelings. We’ve had this information for well over a day and now we’re telling him? This entire situation is ridiculous. What’s more insane is my dear brother allowing Onyx to work her way into the club, only to be an ungrateful, seedy little twat.”

  Heaviness falls on my chest and suddenly I feel like I can’t breathe. Everything they’re saying about Onyx is sinking in right now. “What is she doin’?” I question, prayin’ to some higher power they’re wrong.

  “She kept leaving the grounds at odd hours of the day and night. I had Mouser follow her a few times. Found out she was meeting this seedy lookin’ bunch in town. He took cell phone pics and we were able to identify one of them. Ever hear of the Diaz brothers?” Damon asks.

  I shake my head from side to side, “No. Who’re they?”

  “To us, no one. Onyx seems to think they’re the next people she and her line of whores should be teaming up with, though.” Amara shoots out, glaring at me. Fuck. This has gotta be the biggest load of shit I ever heard.

  Onyx isn’t my ol’ lady by any means, but if I had my way she would be. Ever since I saw her walk into view I knew I didn’t want to let those hips strut off in the distance to never be seen again. With the history I have, gettin’ an ol’ lady and subjecting her to the same torment I’m used to isn’t smart. It’s better for me to stay unattached. Hell, I do it on purpose. If push comes to shove I’ll leave my brothers so they don’t have to deal with the man who’s haunted my life since I was a boy. Up until this point we haven’t crossed paths and I hope we never do.

  My mind shifts back over to the beautiful creature who finally has allowed me into her bed at night. We playfully bantered back and forth for months before she let me take a step in her direction. Motherfucker, I’ve come to love the girl . . . and here she goes betraying the club. We simply can’t have that.

  “What do you have on her exactly?” Part of me wants to know but another part of me doesn’t want to know shit. I’m afraid for the truth that just might slap me straight across the face.

  Instead of our Prez or VP responding, Boog is the one who does. “Mouser caught her on Eduardo’s lap on more than one occasion. You know the shipments we’ve had stolen?”

  I nod. Damon had a couple shipments of cocaine come in from Mexico over the last month. Almost every single one has been hit, but not by the feds. It only leads to one possibility: we have a traitor in our midst. Of course, he’d look into Onyx and her girls before he ever put surveillance on any of the brothers. “She told them. Didn’t she?” I ask.

  “Ding, ding, ding and we have a winner. Now I don’t know about you but I’m ready to deal with this little weasel.” Amara hisses out. As she steps across the floor the clicking of her heels tap against it.

  “Calm down, Amara. We’re doing this my way, which means we’ll keep the rat here for the moment. I have a plan. One where she’ll wish she was dead. Cobra, do me a solid and in the meantime keep doin’ what you’ve been doin’.” Damon chuckles with a devious look in his eye.

  If I didn’t have a heart it would be a hell of a lot easier, but here we go. All I have to do is treat her like a common whore but add a little charm. I’m one dazzlin’ son of a bitch, so that won’t be a problem.

  2

  Truth is like surgery. It hurts but cures. Lies are like a pain killer. It gives instant relief but has side effects forever.

  ~ Unknown

  Cobra

  Present Day

  Early this mornin’ I went to Damon and did somethin’ I don’t typically do. Instead of tellin’ him I was takin’ a couple days off for myself, I asked. The thing is, I know I’m not in the Brotherhood MC anymore. They merged with the Reapers and when we abandoned our name, we took an oath to abide and follow the rules the Reapers always set in stone.

  Some rough shit happened a week ago. Bull’s ol’ lady was attacked by her deranged serial killer of a father in the streets of Billings, MT. Only, she wasn’t the one who got hurt. Fist did, and he died saving Alexa. I met the man once and couldn’t think of a nobler way to go. He was stabbed straight through his heart. While the man was called Fist, every single Reaper I’ve ever spoken to has told me how compassionate the man was. It’s a shame he died.

  Before his death he was goin’ through some pretty rough shit in losin’ his woman, Saffron. Long story short the Bears MC attacked the club. Saffron was trapped in the clubhouse. Those motherfuckers boarded up the windows and nailed them shut, keeping her in a room that was on fire. Damn, thinkin’ about this shit makes my stomach roll.

  We still haven’t gotten revenge for what they did. Not only did Saffron die, but our VP Cracker, who was also Fist and Roxy’s brother died earlier that day. We were hit back to back with losses and the man who was supposed to lead us felt it the most. The two closest people in his life died on the same day. What kinda luck is that? I wasn’t close to the man in any sense, but recent events have made me realize how you shouldn’t take shit for granted. So, I’m on my way to visit my momma in Elkhart, Kansas.

  My ass is numb at this point considerin’ I’m only about five minutes from the small house I set her up in before I left. I tried to get her to move with me wherever I went but she wouldn’t budge. She’s a stubborn old bat, stickin’ to her guns and huffin’ about the fact she was born and raised in Kansas and she’d never leave the state. I mentioned comin’ to Las Vegas with me when I made that move and she told me the same thing she always does. As much as I love the woman, damn I wish she’d change her mind. It would ease my own if she did. Not only is Kansas where she lives, but the man who haunts us lives there too.

  Momma lives off Route 8 down a long lane that backs up to an old two-bedroom farmhouse. It’s nothin’ too big, but she loves it. She moved here a couple years ago after Titan found the last place I put her in. The trouble of it is I have to tell her to not leave the house. It pisses me off so bad ‘cause she’s trapped in this place. Nothin’ I do or say can make her move away.

  As much as I hate the life she’s livin’, or barely livin’ when I come to think of it . . . I can’t do anything. She’s made her choice and while I don’t like it, I have to respect it.

  I make my way further down the dirt lane that they don’t bother to pave. It’s useless when winter rolls in. There’s a good chance if you
plow the work you put in makin’ the pavement nice and sturdy will just pull the shit up, or cause a pothole and well, it would be useless. You just gotta make sure you have a decent vehicle to survive up here.

  Come to think of it, my momma’s probably shittin’ herself right now thinkin’ Titan is the one pullin’ up her driveway. Normally I shoot off a text message and let her know I’m comin’ but I wanted to surprise the old bat. Fuck, guess I am surprisin’ her in a sense. I chuckle to myself, pull up next to her porch and turn off my bike, prop the kickstand up and slide my keys into my pocket as I walk up the few steps and knock on her door.

  “Momma, it’s me. You can come out!” I holler, waitin’ to here one of seven deadbolts she installed come undone. It reminds me of Jaime Lee Curtis’ character in the most recent Halloween movie. My momma is just as badass as she is.

  Within a minute I hear the first of the deadbolts start to turn and the door starts to come open. “Why in the world didn’t you text me, Colton? You could’ve given me a heart attack!” She berates me, placin’ her hand over her heart while she breathes in pretty damn heavy.

  “Sorry. I wanted to surprise ya. I didn’t think how the rumblin’ of my bike would make you think someone else was payin’ a visit.”

  Momma shuts her eyes for a second before openin’ them back up. “It’s alright. Seeing my only son is the best present in the world. Now, get in here. It’s too darn chilly to be keeping this door open.”

  I do as she says and walk in her house, shut the door behind me and put all of the deadbolts back in a locked position. “If you want I can make you some coffee. Well, shoot. Do you even still like it these days?”

  Shit, I run on coffee. “Now why would you ask a silly thing like that,” I chuckle, following her as she heads into her small galley kitchen. I lean against the opposite counter as she grabs a filter from the cabinet, pops it in the top of the coffee pot and puts a decent bit of grounds in. She’s the type who always has water in the back so all she does now is press the start button.

  “Is something going on? You never just come by and pay me a visit, sweetie.” Fuck, leave it to her to read between the lines and know something else is going on.

  Shakin’ my head in disbelief, I give her a nod. “Yeah, somethin’s goin’ on but I can’t give you all the details.”

  She purses her lips at me, understandin’ exactly what I mean. As a little boy my momma didn’t wanna tell me anything to do with Titan, otherwise known as my sperm donor. But as I grew older I asked her a hell of a lot of questions. There were times I was teased in school for bein’ raised by a single mother and I took out those frustrations on the one person who was here for me through everything— her. I demanded answers so I could understand why Titan was the way he was. But she didn’t want to tell me anything until I was sixteen. The age she deemed appropriate for knowing such cruel facts about the world we live in.

  It was then when she informed me about the realities of motorcycle clubs, about how there are law abiding clubs like Bikers Against Abuse and then there are clubs called one-percenters. She was slow and careful in telling me that the club Titan belongs to was a one-percenter club and while some of these clubs can be decent, most of them aren’t. She went into detail as she went on to say these clubs usually deal in illegal activities like drugs, prostitution, hell sometimes even human traffickin’ to name a few.

  I had understood what she meant for a while, until she got onto the part of how she even met my father. They met like almost every couple does: at a bar. She was smitten with him when she first laid eyes on him and for a while it sounded like an adorable story. That is, until she explained he told her they couldn’t be together unless she was part of the club. Back then women didn’t have a place in the club as anythin’ but an ol’ lady or a clubwhore. Only, I didn’t know what either of those were when I was sixteen.

  At my age I know what he did to my mother was trap her in the club as something he could use whenever he wanted. Foolishly she allowed him to because she was in love with a bad man she thought she could change. By the time she was ready to leave, she was pregnant with me. Momma tried to get out but he wouldn’t let her. He stalked her like a crazy fuck and it even went as far as gettin’ him thrown in the slammer a couple of times before he started to take her seriously. They came up with an agreement since stalking laws weren’t too great when I was a wee little one. He could come around three times a year, on Thanksgiving, Christmas and my birthday as long as he left us alone the remaining three hundred and sixty-two days a year. She later confessed if she knew what he was gonna do to me she never would’ve allowed it.

  Fuck, we were lucky enough to evade him two years in a row but the following year when he found us . . . we knew not to do anything like that again. Instead of takin’ his anger out on me, he did it to her. God, even rememberin’ this shit is causing a forceful rage to ignite within me. I might not be an angel, but I sure as hell don’t come close to him. Or so I thought. Until yesterday.

  “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

  Sucking in a deep breath, I let it out. “I thought about beating the shit out of someone I love. She’s betrayed the club and done some pretty twisted shit, Momma. I fuckin’ love her. Or, well, fuck. Loved her. I loved her until I knew what kind of traitorous bitch she is and now all I wanna do is put her in the ground. You know how it makes me feel? Like I’m him. Like I’m fuckin’ Titan.”

  She comes straight over to me and wraps her arms around me as my body starts to shake. All my life I’ve made sure I’m nothing like that monster, but Onyx’s betrayal is fuckin’ with my head in more ways than one. “Oh, sweetheart. You’re not like your father. Trust me. You’re nothing like him. You my son have the biggest heart. You fearlessly love anyone who shows you a piece of themselves, are loyal to the core and your compassion knows no bounds. Colton, you will never be like your father, even with the thoughts you’ve had. It’s only natural with what you’ve said. This woman has betrayed your club, who are an extension of your family. Just remember there’s always a better way than violence.” I so badly want to believe what she’s sayin’, but in my experience there isn’t. Violence is the only way to get people to understand shit, and I mean really understand it. Damon says he has a plan but I’ve just gotta hope and pray it’s goin’ down soon. I can’t keep pretending like everythin’ is fine between Onyx and I. For fuck’s sake, I’m still sinkin’ my cock into her.

  Before it meant somethin’ and now it doesn’t mean a damn thing. I go numb like a fuckin’ void and treat her like she’s a prostitute on the streets who I don’t give a damn about. I was never the type to give two shits about a woman until her. Now I’m back to internally tellin’ myself all that matters is gettin’ my dick wet.

  The only trouble is she did mean somethin’ to me, and now whenever I connect with her in a physical way I’m only reminded of her transgressions against the club. It makes me hate her even more.

  “Now, let’s stop discussing this negative stuff and take a seat at the table. I’ll toast up some apple cinnamon muffins for us to snack on with our coffee. How does that sound?”

  “Amazing,” I respond, walkin’ off towards the small table she has on the outside of her kitchen. While I’m visitin’ I might as well make it worth my while and not think about all this other crap.

  3

  Fuck Society’s Idea of Beauty

  ~Unknown

  Izzy

  “I’m still mind blown, those old, pretentious bastards at Channel 3 fired you. You’re the entire reason their ratings went up. Jesus Christ! How are you acting so calm right now?” Travis blares, slamming his hands down on the marble kitchen island that adorns our kitchen.

  I smirk, trying not to giggle. What my GBF should realize is that I always have a backup plan. “Trav, sweetie. When have I ever been blindsided in my life?”

  Travis and I have known one another since college, majoring in the same thing and even interned at the same news st
ation where we were given full time positions. We’ve both been there for a couple years now and he’s not wrong about what I did for the ratings and the viewership. Before I came on as chief meteorologist the stations previous one made a remark that was perceived as racist. Even her screwing her way to the top couldn’t get her out of that major fuck up. I bet Martin hated firing his little ho, but he gave me the position and I didn’t even have to fuck him for it. Ashlynn has hated me ever since I was an intern and coming on board to take her position was sweeter than I could ever imagine. Now she must be the type to hold grudges if she was so determined to make multiple fake email addresses and complain about my hair color. For fuck’s sake, we’re in Las Vegas.

  “No, you smart wench. Never. Care to tell me what’s going on, ‘cause girl I wanna leave that trash pit.”

  I lean my arms down on the marble and stare into Travis’ eyes. “Leonardo Morcai gave me a job over at Channel 8. I looked over my termination agreement and there is no type of gag order in there, so I’m about to unleash everything to the world.”

  “Did you have a lawyer check it, just to make sure?”

  I nod, “Yes, I sure did. Leonardo is even coming out of retirement to do a one-on-one exclusive with me before he announces I’ve officially been given a position. Trav, I’m so excited. He’s given me a pretty big advance in what I was making annually, plus more vacation time and sick days.”

  Travis rolls his eyes, “Duh, you’re about to trash talk his number one rival. Of course he wants to make sure you’re paid well. Now . . . you said your interview is one-on-one?” He cocks an eyebrow, looking at me in an accusatory way.

  “While I understand you want me to play the field a bit on the dating scene, I’m not turning into Ashlynn. It’s a bit offensive you’d think I would.” I admit, walking toward the fridge to pull out the open bottle of wine we’d split the evening before when I made a late-night steak. It pairs very well together.