Cook (The Ridge MC Book 4)

Chapter 25

Cook

Today’s church was a long time coming, and not just because of Massimo Parisi’s intrusion and demands. When Wilde came out to the Ridge—passing through and overstaying his welcome—it set our town onto a collision course with Diablo, an MC out of LA. After Celt popped Rex, our two motorcycle clubs merged, but none of the official shit had really happened yet.

We had been going back and forth with Celt having a big say in the club, since he was probably the longest standing member in the Ridge. But he was also a cop.

Wilde, I had to admit, was far more suited for the job.

“Shut up,” roared Celt over the people packed into the kitchenette of Bou’s shop.

I glanced around. We were quickly outgrowing this place and needed somewhere bigger to hold church. Although, I wondered if Bou would welcome the club inside their new home once their little bun popped out of the oven.

She leaned up against the wall, standing between Celt and Wilde. She was as much a part of this as anyone here, maybe more.

Wilde planted his palms on the marble and leaned onto the island. “With the Gambinos and the cartels up our asses, we need to get our shit in order.” He glanced over at Angel.

The man swept his long black and white hair over one shoulder. “We had to disband Diablo after we were caught on camera pulling kids from that motel. We gotta count ourselves lucky we had a club to fall back on.”

“The Ridge?” questioned Sas.

“The Ridge!” I yelled, and several other voices chimed in too.

“The Ridge!” A few arms shot up into the air with the shared exclamations.

Wilde stood back, folding his arms over his chest. “Yep. We’re one now. The Ridge MC. LA and Arizona. And, as much as I hate to say this, we need to keep our territory safe.”

Celt gave a singular nod. “Agreed.”

They put on a united front, and I wondered if Celt and Wilde had talked about this when Angel and I weren’t around. Or was Bou passing notes back and forth?

All the brothers shifted their weight, and I braced myself for the earthquake of my life.

“The drug running dried up when the laws changed,” said Wilde, “and bringing in stuff from Colombia hasn’t panned out.” He pinned Sas with his ice blue stare.

“However,” added Celt, “that shit’s pushing us into major leagues. Whether it’s what we planned or not.”

Wilde took the next line, and I wondered if they’d rehearsed this since the middle of last night. “If we’re gonna keep going,” Prez said, “we need a tight ship. No in-house fighting. We’re brothers. LA and Park Ridge as one MC.”

The guys looked around at each other.

“With that being said,” started Celt, “I’m not an officer. Wilde is Prez.” He stared down the former Ridge Rats—Hammer, Coyote, me.

We shifted uncomfortably, but I tried to remain stone faced.

Wilde stepped forward. “Thanks, man. I’ll be Prez, but you’re not getting out of it so easily.”

Celt smirked. “Nah, man. I gotchu. I’m the law in the Ridge. Always have been, always will.”

“You’re still patched, asshole,” said Wilde. “You’ve still got a vote. You still attend church.”

“Fair ’nuff.”

“And,” Wilde barked, “you’re moving your ass back here pronto.”

“Already packed, Prez,” answered Celt, and I knew that to be true. I hoped his new place wouldn’t be as cluttered as that tiny apartment.

“And Bou.” Wilde held out his hand to her. “It may not be standard, but she’s my first lady. No property of patch for her. She’s a full-blown voting member. Read me?”

Taking his hand, she stepped up beside Wilde. Guys who’d grown up in the Ridge respected her, knowing her as the former Prez’s daughter. Bou had proved herself to be formidable. Even pregnant, she was one badass bitch.

Wilde turned to Angel, and even his enforcer seemed uneasy. “I need a VP in LA.”

Angel shook his head. “I’m staying in Park Ridge.” He didn’t add Melanie to the mix, but I saw it in his eyes when he looked at me. His ol’ lady would certainly be sticking very close to Maddie.

Celt gave a shake of his head. Something silent passed between him and Wilde. I let them have their exchange because I didn’t want the decision. I had never been interested in climbing any club ladders. I just wanted the brotherhood part when I had the patches made.

“You’re sure you don’t want it?” Wilde asked Celt.

“Absolutely,” said Celt, crossing his arms over his chest. “Give it to Angel.”

“Good deal,” said Wilde. “Angel, you’ll be VP here. Sas,”

“Yeah, Prez?” the big guy said from his spot near the door.

“VP in LA?” Wilde asked, but I had a feeling it wasn’t much of a question.

Sas stood from where he was leaning against the wall, surprise written all over his ugly mug. “You got it.”

That much was settled, but it wasn’t enough.

I was no VP—didn’t want it—but if we were forming a new and larger club, there would be more than a few open positions. The days of Celt and me and a few guys defending the Ridge were over.

With eyes on me, Wilde said, “You would make a good secretary.”

“Fuck that,” I muttered. “I’m not taking meeting notes and shit. I’m the goddamn enforcer.”

“Fine,” said Wilde, annoyed, but Bou grinned.

We were on a roll now.

Wilde continued, “Warden will be the CIO or whatever. Tech guy. Both here and in LA.”

The man nodded. “Done.”

“Beans?”

“Yeah, Prez?”

“Treasurer for both.”

“Bank on it,” said the man wearing a bow tie. It was the first time I met him, and he gave me the shivers. Something about a nerdy, tatted, muscle-bound guy didn’t jive.

Wilde kept up the litany. “Teller, road captain LA. Graff, tail guard LA. Any recs for the LA enforcer?”

“Jackyl,” offered Sas.

“Oh, yeah.” Wilde scanned the room. “Where is that fucker, anyway?”

“Had to go see his grams in San Fran,” Sas answered.

Wilde seemed to get that. I didn’t, but I also didn’t care much about anything but getting through this meeting and getting back to Maddie.

Prez rattled the names off like everyone knew who they were. I had probably met them once or twice, but when punting names around, I couldn’t keep it all straight to remember them.

“Who do you think for PR?” Wilde finally asked.

“Hammer for road captain,” answered Celt. “Coyote, tail guard.”

“Good choices.” Wilde cracked his knuckles. “Now the hard part. What position for Parisi’s brother and the other dealio?”

“Make the Parisi brother the pencil pusher,” I offered.

Wilde mused. “Secretary. It meets Massimo’s ‘officer’ requirement. Done. What about...?”

I swallowed over the lump in my throat, thinking about Massimo’s second demand from last night. Arranged marriage. Who the fuck did that in this day and age?

Apparently, la fucking Famiglia.

It obviously wouldn’t be Wilde, Celt, Angel, the Warden, or me. We had our ol’ ladies, but there were enough young dudes in the MC who’d be good enough for the Mafia princess. Sas, Teller, Graff, Hammer, Coyote, Jackyl were the few we could fully trust.

“Do we want to make it easy or hard for whoever Massimo’s little Mafia princess is?” asked Bou with a crooked smile.

Maddie

Blinking back my tears, I finished, “And that’s what happened, Doctor Richardson.”

The doctor sat opposite me, not even moving as I told her my story. I didn’t know what I expected her to say or do, but she was a statue with her face painfully drawn and her eyes focused on me. I tried not to squirm under her gaze.

Finally, she said, “You can call me Ava.”

I nearly laughed. That was all she had to say as I opened up my mouth like an artery and the last decade plus bled out. Every terrible thing that had cut me to the bone and all the bastards who had held me down and raped me, and all she could do was tell me to call her Ava?

However, some of the weight fell off my shoulders. I wasn’t foolish enough to think that one bout of spilling my guts would make me as composed as Roni, but by saying it aloud made me feel free.

Safe.

Like I didn’t have to face nameless or faceless monsters in my nightmares anymore.

Welcomed and loved.

“Do you think you could say any of this to your sister?” Roni asked me, and Ava glanced away. Even the doctor didn’t think it was a good idea.

“No,” I said. She didn’t need to know what happened to me.

“Are there other things you could talk about with Lanie?” asked Ava, and I wondered whose side she was on. “Your sister cares for you deeply. She came to see you in the recovery house. She’s had counseling sessions and has waited patiently to reconnect with you.”

“Are you pushing me to see her?” I asked.

We had already connected on some things. Did I need to hand myself over to her?

“No,” said Ava at the same time Roni said, “Yes.”

The two shared a look, caught on their warring sides, and then Roni pushed, “Yes, I am. If you have the opportunity to get back a lost sibling, do it. I lost my brother, Justin, and if I had the chance, I’d tell him everything.” Her voice broke. “You’re lucky that Lanie is still here.”

Luck felt too far-fetched for my situation. My fate had been a result of too many plans. My kidnapping didn’t just happen. Signora’s plots weren’t a product of what the universe cooked up. Tommy G.’s using me certainly wasn’t happenstance.

Cook saving me and meeting Mel again—they may not have planned that exactly, but I can’t think myself lucky because of it.

Regardless, both Mel and I were alive and together. Did that mean I owed our sisterhood a chance? Where were our parents? They must’ve been dead if they hadn’t come, right? That, I would have to ask.

How many girls had I watched beaten to death or raped, and they had never recovered? Mel could’ve been hit by a car walking across the street or been killed by any number of crazy bastards she faced as a DA. Yet we were both here.

So, was I the lucky one?

Roni and Ava were both waiting for me, expecting me to do or say something. Apparently, I hadn’t said enough.

With a hefty huff, I peered out over the desert at the red cliffs I was beginning to love. At the huge cactus that marked our driveway. At the blue-gray sage and small creosote bushes that Cook had pointed out while we worked around the house’s exterior. Shadows slanted sideways, but the day was hot. Sweat slicked my skin, and Mel sat in the car, likely blasting the AC.

She turned off the car as I neared, extending my hands.

“Don’t shoot,” I muttered, trying to lighten the situation.

Mel gave me a deadpan look as she slammed the door shut. So much for sisterly bonding that Roni and Ava wanted. After I had told them basically all that had happened to me, they made me do something more tortuous. I knew I should’ve wanted this—most people would—but I didn’t know what to do around non-broken women. Her trauma and mine weren’t the same.

“Hey,” said Mel, pasting a pained smile on her face. “How’s it going?”

“I haven’t cried yet,” I said.

“Is that a good thing?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I admitted and then kicked a rock away from my toe.

She followed my gaze to the ground, and neither of us seemed to know what to say. My stomach still felt sour, and acid burned my throat after all I had relived. Maybe it would’ve been easier to live alone, under a rock. But that was a lie too, because the thoughts would still come to me in the middle of the night. Or whenever I closed my eyes.

I needed Cook and needed this life to be whole. The sooner I dealt with everyone, the better.

“Roni will be testifying against the Gambinos,” I said.

Mel jerked back like she had just been slapped. “I’ll try to help in any way possible. I’m used to coaching witnesses in getting ready to take the stand.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled. “Roni will probably like that.”

“And I’ll call up Hellen Heels.” Mel smiled, a small expression, but one that told me she was remembering something fondly.

I had no idea who Hellen Heels was, so I asked, “Who?”

“She’s a DA in LA. Her real name is Marley Jacobson, but everyone calls her Hellen Heels, because she’s kind of a hellcat in the courtroom... and beyond. I’ll call her up and ask her to come down to the Ridge.”

I drew my brows together. “I’m not sure why we’d need her to come here.”

“Oh, well, if we’re talking about testifying against the Gambinos, she’s probably the one who has the case. I just assumed. Well, maybe I shouldn’t have... anyway.” Now Mel kicked a stray rock.

“Thanks,” I mumbled.

“Maddie?”

I looked up at her.

“Are you thinking of testifying too? That’s a huge deal.”

“I, um, I don’t know.” I hugged myself and focused on the huge cactus off to my right.

“Okay. You don’t have to decide right now. Is there another reason you came out here?” asked Mel, leaning back against the hood of her car.

Yeah, they made me.I dropped my hands to my sides. “I felt bad for you being locked in the car.”

“Did Doctor Richardson help?”

“Yeah, Ava has helped me,” I said. “And Roni too.”

Mel nodded. “That’s good.”

The bridge we had been building last night seemed to crumble, and I was too tired right now to rebuild it. No amount of small talk could fix the broken me.

Only Cook could.

He was a balm over my wounds, all of them freshly reopened. Although, I didn’t think I could ever say any of those things to him, like I couldn’t with Mel, because I didn’t want to pull them into my pain. I just wanted to be free of it.

Suddenly, Mel pulled up her head like a dog. I tried to listen like she did. The wind was picking up in the canyon. Pushing off the hood of the car, she grabbed a gun at her side, and I sucked in a deep breath. Did everyone have a gun around here except me? Melanie was training to go into the FBI—to find me, I thought she’d said—so she knew how to handle the weapon.

The rumbling sound then hit my ears, only a few seconds before I felt it in my bones. A motorcycle. No, many bikes. Mel pointed toward the road, where a blob of black became a group of riders followed by a dust cloud.

Melanie didn’t lower her weapon until the motorcycles rolled to the stop.

Those were our men, but when had Cook gone back to Phoenix to get his bike?

I dodged around Melanie, running to Cook, and he took me up in his arms. It was good to have him home. But when I looked down at the bike, I could see it wasn’t his.

After Cook kissed me on the forehead, he slung his arm around my shoulder and led me toward the house. “Pack a bag,” he said.

“Where are we going?” I asked hesitantly. I only wanted to be with him and in our home, where it was safe. I checked over my shoulder at Celt as Roni came out to greet him.

“We’re riding up to the hills for a bonfire and party.” Cook leaned his head down to my ear. “Make sure you’re pretty for me, okay?”

Latching my fingers together, I twisted them nervously. But I forced myself to give him a nod and then I cleared my throat, trying to remove the lump. “What’s the party for?”

“Time to get our new patches and positions.” He beamed.

I stared down at the rock I’d been kicking. “I thought it was dangerous.”

He grabbed my chin. “Eyes on me, nizhóní.”

When I met his gaze, the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Life’s dangerous, baby girl, but in this, I gotchu.”

Smiling, I curled into him. I had Cook, and I trusted him to have me too.