Cash: The Black Cobras MC #2 Read online

  Cash

  The Black Cobras MC #2

  Savannah Rylan

  Kasey Krane

  Copyright © 2020 by Savannah Rylan & Kasey Krane

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  1. Cash

  2. Vivian

  3. Cash

  4. Vivian

  5. Cash

  6. Vivian

  7. Cash

  8. Vivian

  9. Cash

  10. Vivian

  11. Cash

  12. Vivian

  13. Cash

  14. Vivian

  15. Cash

  16. Vivian

  17. Cash

  18. Vivian

  19. Cash

  20. Vivian

  21. Cash

  22. Vivian

  23. Cash

  24. Vivian

  25. Cash

  26. Vivian

  27. Cash

  28. Vivian

  29. Cash

  30. Vivian

  31. Cash

  32. Vivian

  33. Cash

  34. Vivian

  35. Cash

  36. Vivian

  37. Cash

  38. Vivian

  39. Cash

  40. Vivian

  41. Cash

  42. Vivian

  43. Cash

  Sneak Peak at Patch

  About Savannah Rylan

  About Kasey Krane

  More Books by Savannah Rylan

  1

  Cash

  In the past months since we put the Sons of Satan back in their place; things had returned to fairly normal around here. By normal I meant; business was running smoothly, none of us were involved in random shootouts with the Sons of Satan or any of their cronies, and none of us were getting killed.

  Other than that; it was a matter of opinion. What you thought was normal.

  Seeing Grimm, our President, bounce a kid off his knee didn’t seem very normal to me. But he now had a family, an old lady and a kid to look after. Did it make him soft? Who was I to judge?

  All I knew was that I was going to keep myself out of that shit. I didn’t need a family pulling me down. Not now, not ever. I’d dedicated my life to the Black Cobras, ever since I was nothing more than a fucking teenager, nothing more than a prospect. Grimm took me under his wing, he saw potential in me. Then when he took over as President for his uncle; he appointed me as Second in command.

  It was the biggest honor I could get.

  I felt what knights around King Arthur’s round table probably felt when they were knighted. Or some shit like that. I was just guessing.

  It felt great. Like my life’s worth was now quantified. I was one of the leaders of our club and I was going to do everything in my power to keep it that way.

  We were at the Pit now, our joint. The guys were all hanging around here, playing pool and drinking themselves shitless at the end of another successful day.

  Patch, Bones and Jett were huddled together by the bar counter while Bender served them their endless drinks. Like I said, things were going well. It was peace time. None of us had anything major to worry about, other than making sure that the cash was coming in smoothly.

  Sometimes I liked to stand here, in one corner of the bar, cradling a beer in my hand as I watched over my territory. Everywhere I looked, I saw something that belonged to me. Something I was responsible for.

  A hand jerked me out of my thoughts. It was Patch. He was thumping my back.

  “Got your text about the cargo, we should go check it out in the morning,” he said, swinging his bottle back to empty the beer down his throat. I turned to him and nodded.

  “Yeah, we need to make sure it’s all in place. Some of the guys have looked over it already, but we should do our own recon before agreeing to any kind of deal with the Mexicans,” I replied.

  Patch understood. He got it.

  Even though he was fairly new to the crew, at least compared to some of us old timers; he and I had gotten pretty close over the past years. He was maybe just as dedicated to the club and the work as I was.

  “Grimm wants me to help train the prospects,” he continued. I looked at the group of young men now. They were much younger than us, some as young as nineteen. They were all playing pool and making a rowdy noise in the bar. I was them not too long ago. Almost a decade ago!

  And at thirty; I already felt old and wise when I looked at them.

  “Wanna help?” Patch asked with a smirk.

  “You mean, ride out with you guys to some deserted spot and shoot at cans?” I asked with a laugh. It sounded silly now, but that was how you got better at this job. Practicing your aim, making a better shot of yourself, learning the tricks that the older members of the club taught you.

  Patch shrugged.

  “They have to start somewhere, right?”

  He didn’t have to convince me. I knew exactly how important this kind of training was. Besides, I wanted to keep an eye on every aspect of the process. I wanted to be well aware of every new guy that was patched into our club.

  “Yeah, sure, I’ll do it.”

  “We’re going out to the Norse Quarry tomorrow night, after the next shipment arrives.”

  I nodded in response.

  Someone called Patch over and he walked away. I noticed the swagger in his walk. The good mood that the whole club was in right now. Just six months ago, our President, Grimm, had been kidnapped. His kid had been kidnapped too and the Sons of Satan wanted us to dissolve our club so they could monopolize the city. It was utter chaos. A lot of us got hurt. We nearly lost some of our men. But now with Crow, their president dead and their club dissolved there was peace, and everyone was celebrating.

  The only thing I could hope for was that something else didn’t start up with one of our rival clubs. Things were going good for us, and even though I would walk straight into hellfire to keep our club alive if I had to; I much preferred this environment of calm instead.

  “Challenge you to a game or you too pussy?” Bones was walking up to me. The prospects heard this too and they all turned to look at me encouragingly. I usually kept to myself. Unlike Patch and Bones and the others, I wasn’t big on making friends with the new guys.

  Not until I got to really know them and trust them.

  But what the hell? They wanted to see me play tonight? I’d show them how it was done.

  “You talkin’ to me?” I said with a smirk as I put down my empty bottle and headed in Bones’ direction.

  Things were going to get heated up around here if he was really challenging me. Everyone who knew me knew how much I liked to win. And if there were two things, I was good at in life; one was how to shoot a gun and the other was how to win at pool.

  2

  Vivian

  I was sitting out in the lobby, where all the other girls were. The truth was, no matter how prepared I was for this today, I was just another face in a sea of beautiful faces. Every single girl here, and there were twenty-six, I’d counted, wanted the same thing that I did. We were all here for the same reason and I couldn’t remember what set me apart from them anymore.

  I had the same number of legs, same number of eyes and fingers, I looked after my skin and my makeup, I knew how to manage my weight. The more I sat there, looking around at the bored faces of the other girls who were here for the audition—the more I worried about getting thi
s job.

  In fact, I had been to too many of these casting calls in the past eight months of being here in LA. When I first arrived, I was filled with hope, I even had that small-town glimmer in my eyes. I’d managed to get away. Escape. Free myself from the binds that were holding me back to my hometown.

  I’d spent the past five years saving up for this experience. I’d worked in a hair salon back home, every day, picking up extra shifts when and where I could. I’d lived at home with my parents even though I hated it there. I did everything I could, lived as frugally as possible; just so I could save enough money to move to LA and try my hand at the fashion industry.

  And nobody back home thought I could do it. Least of all my own family. My parents were just waiting for the opportunity to tell me ‘I told you so’. They were expecting to see me knocking on their door any day now, with my suitcases packed and my head bent down, asking them to take me in again because I had royally screwed up.

  That was the one thing I wanted to avoid under any circumstance. I did not want to go back there or return to that life I had done everything to get away from. It was what I’d worked for all my life, to leave and never return. And the only way I knew how to do it was to come to LA and give the modeling industry a shot. I thought I had what it took to make it.

  It was my dream, just like it was obviously the dream of every other woman here too. We all wanted to make it big in the modeling world.

  But I really really wanted it.

  Didn’t I?

  But what if I was too old for it now?

  I couldn’t help but be filled with dread as the clock ticked on. I was twenty-four, and most of the girls in the lobby around me looked like they were at least a few years younger. In this industry, even a few months could make a huge difference. The only kind of women these people were interested in were young girls with that zing of a face. I didn’t know if I was young enough. Did I have that ‘zing’? I wasn’t as sure of myself as I was when I left my apartment that morning.

  My apartment…how long was I going to have a place to stay if I didn’t get this job? Any job?

  I was struggling these past eight months. Surviving on my savings from the hair salon and picking up part-time shifts at delis and cafes when possible. I couldn’t commit to these jobs because I was also running back and forth between casting calls, which I was trying to prioritize.

  In all this time in LA, I’d got exactly three jobs, which wasn’t that great. It wasn’t even remotely an achievement. My career hadn’t kickstarted the way I thought it did when I got the callback for that first job. I was so excited that day, I thought I finally landed.

  And today was just like every other day in my life now. All I could do was wait and not look too nervous. I couldn’t think about making rent at this moment. I needed to focus on doing a good job here.

  And finally, when I was least expecting it, my name was called and someone in a white suit led me into a room in the back.

  I tried not to shake while going in. Instead, I tried to keep a bright smile on my face the whole time I followed the man in.

  The moment I stepped in, there was utter chaos everywhere like these scenes always were. Someone was undressing me without warning. A couple of cameras were trained at me and people were walking around, shouting orders at each other. Possibly the worst environment to relax and look good for the camera. This industry was definitely not easy and not something I was professionally trained to handle.

  A glittery dress was patched on me, which I thankfully fit into and another person was tidying up my hair the way they wanted it to look for the camera. Someone else was doing my makeup.

  I just stood there, being probed and prodded till a few minutes later when they seemed to be happy with the outcome.

  “Okay…Vivian…” One of the cameramen looked at a sheet of paper and said my name. “Time for you to sparkle, sweetheart.”

  The makeup artist and the stylists all moved away from what was going to be my frame. All I knew about this particular job was that it was supposed to be an advertisement for a perfume. I didn’t know how to sell a perfume for a print ad. In fact, did anybody know how to sell perfume? It had to be one of the most difficult products to sell; just through the expression on your face, through the aura that emanated from you.

  “Remember what you’re trying to convey, darlin’. Goddess, beauty, glamor…” The cameraman continued to talk while he trained his long fancy lens at me. The lights seemed too bright in my eyes as they beamed down on me. I was afraid of sweating, of melting through the makeup.

  I tried not to gulp or chew my lip, just stare at the camera and pose. The photographer flashed his lenses repeatedly, while I attempted to change my pose, be creative, give it my all.

  My initial awkwardness was transformed now that I was in front of the camera. I was a natural when it came to the final golden hour. I smiled and didn’t smile. I blushed and looked stern. I knew I was good at this job, but was I good enough? Was I better than the others? There was no way to know. All I could do was perform and hope for the best.

  * * *

  I walked out of the studio, still trying to keep my spirits up and smile just in case I bumped into someone on the way out who was responsible for giving me this job.

  There was no way for me to know how the shoot actually went. Once the photographer was done taking the pictures, he sent me packing straight away without giving me any feedback on what he thought.

  I didn’t expect him to. It wasn’t his job to praise me for what I was doing right or correct what I was doing wrong. I just had one chance in a cut-throat industry like this and if I screwed up the opportunity, then it was nobody else’s fault but mine.

  I couldn’t predict if the people deciding on the new face of this perfume would be happy with my shots or not. They had over twenty other girls’ shoots to choose from, each more attractive than the previous one. Each bringing something different to the story. The very fact that we had been shortlisted meant that we were good. At least I had that going for me. I was shortlisted! And got a call for casting.

  But still, I didn’t get a good feeling about my performance today. I wasn’t sure if I’d put in my best effort today. If I put my best foot forward. Every time after a photoshoot, I doubted myself and I had every reason to. I’d only gotten three jobs. It had to mean something, right? That I wasn’t good enough for this industry maybe?

  I didn’t know what I would do if I didn’t get this one. I didn’t know if I could keep stretching my resources any further. I couldn’t even spare money to take the bus back to my shared apartment tonight. I would have to walk it, so I could save that cash for something else that I really needed.

  I was trying my best to cut corners.

  If I was going to pick up more shifts at the deli and start looking for other jobs, did that mean I was giving up on my modeling career? What if there weren’t any regular jobs available? LA was a big city and a demanding place. I wasn’t sure what my skills were.

  What if it came to the situation where I had to go back home? Just the thought of returning to my hometown to live with my parents again sent chills down my spine.

  It would be my last resort, if I absolutely had no other option but to do that.

  I started walking in the direction of my apartment now, not sure how I was feeling about anything. This attempt at keeping my chin up in the face of all this uncertainty was turning out to be more difficult than I thought.

  I was alone here, I had no support; there was only so much I could do to stay positive.

  3

  Cash

  I arrived at the Norse Quarry after I was done for the day and saw Patch was already there with the prospects.

  They’d lined up empty cans of beer, apples, some mason jars and other pieces of rubbish they could find. They were taking shots at it now, with Patch standing in the center and shouting out orders. This could go on for hours, I thought, and lit my cigarette as I walked lazily over to them.


  I watched them from the back, taking long puffs of smoke while they laughed and congratulated each other with every shot. Patch was doing a good job of correcting them, giving them, advice and I was happy with their progress for now.

  But being patched into the club wasn’t just about being a good shot. They would have to prove themselves in other realms too. There was no rush, though. We had plenty of time to make our decisions.

  Patch turned to find me standing there eventually. He tucked his gun in and walked towards me. The prospects caught sight of me and straightened themselves up too. I knew they were always walking on eggshells around me, even more so than Grimm, the President, who was way more relaxed and chill than I was.

  “Wanna play?” Patch asked with a smirk and pulled his own cigarette out.

  “Nah, I’ve put my gun away for the day,” I said and we both smiled at that because it sounded funny. You never put your gun away. You were always on high alert. Anything could happen at any moment. We all knew that.

  “What do you think?” Patch asked, glancing at the young ones over his shoulder, while they continued to take shots and thump each other on their shoulders.

  “I think they’re coming along just fine, but we still have time before we patch them in,” I replied, taking another long drag. Patch nodded. He was aware of my propensity for perfection. Our club wasn’t a big gang, not like some of the other high rollers. We could do with a bunch of new patch-ins, sure, to build our strength. But I’d be damned if I was going to do a poor job of it. If we were going to grow, we were going to grow well. Each member hand-picked by Grimm and myself.