Page 14 of Cutter

The idea of brown-nosing that full-of-himself asshole turned his stomach.

Emily needs you.

Yes, she did need him, and he’d already decided to help. He just hadn’t told her yet.

Leaning against the countertop, Cutter texted Johnny Gun while he waited for Will to turn his attention to him. The guy was busy filling up a pitcher. Maybe he’d anticipated the coming order.

Will smiled at him. “Be right there,” he said.

“Take your time.”

As Cutter had guessed. Will approached with the full pitcher and three mugs dangling on his fingers.

“This is for your table.” He placed the pitcher and glasses on the counter. “When I saw Diesel come in, I knew what he’d want. Can you manage? I can take it over to the table.”

“No need. I’ll handle it.” As Cutter replied, taking the mug and pitcher, he caught a new arrival out of the corner of his eye. Sitting on a barstool, this guy drummed his fingers with obvious impatience.

Will kept his attention on Cutter. “What can I get for you and your guys? You’re our guests. Diesel gave me the wave.”

“An IPA will work.”

“Sure thing,” Will said. Hands full, Cutter walked back to the table. Blade and Diesel were engaged in a serious conversation, and Breaker and JT ignored each other with stony expressions. He never knew if Breaker was continuously high or if this was normal.

Cutter spoke to Breaker. “I’ve ordered an IPA pitcher for us.”

Breaker broke the daydreaming for a moment. “Sounds good.”

Shaking his head, Cutter returned to the bar. The new guy was harassing the pleasant bartender. Finally, Will stopped pouring into the pitcher. “What the fuck’s your problem, Nails? Diesel is your president. He got here first and has guests. As soon as I finish with this, I’ll take care of you.”

Nails? The name suits him.

“All right, all right,” Nails said. “The boss has seniority.” Abruptly, he looked at Cutter. “What the fuck do you want? Never seen you before.”

Cutter kept his cool. “I’m one of Diesel’s guests.”

“I can see that.” Nails gave him an up-and-down glance, then shifted his attention back to Will. “Hurry it up, man. I have a real good feeling about tonight. I’m gonna find me a sweetie, and I wanna be sauced and ready for her.”

Sauced and ready? Who talks that way?

Cutter stared ahead, trying to forget the hyper dude to his right. Will set the pitcher and glasses in front of him. Cutter dropped a five-note for a tip, muttered a thank-you, and hurried back to his table.

That guy Nails could give a serene person a headache.

As time passed, mugs were filled, pitchers emptied, and the conversation changed from official MC business to favorite chopper models, sports, and crass jokes about chicks. Cutter returned to the bar for a refill. A new guy had joined Nails. Ignoring their raucous banter, Cutter picked up two pitchers and returned to the table.

This time, Blade’s signal to join the others couldn’t be ignored. Cutter abandoned his post at the wall and sat next to Beast. Might as well get to know his counterpart in Chaos a little better.

Soon, as it happened with drinking beer, his bladder filled, and a second later, it was ready to explode. Cutter excused himself and rushed to the restroom. On his way back, the angry noise at a table between two women and a harassing Nails stopped him in his tracks. He didn’t know the dark-haired woman, but he would recognize the fake blonde wearing a Goth outfit anyplace or anytime. The wig would be a good disguise with most people. Not him. She could wear fifteen different-colored wigs all at once, and Cutter would still know those pouty lips and almond-shaped, dark blue eyes.

What the fuck is she doing here?

This wasn’t her job. Infiltrating the Chaos was his thing.

Emily had put herself in harm’s way…

Nails grasped her arm. She jerked and fought him off. Her loud protests traveled through the room. Nails barked a laugh. Apparently, her efforts amused the asshole.

Rage and the impulse to protect flared in Cutter’s chest. He wanted to pulverize Nails and yank Emily out of there, but if he did, the Chaos might question his actions. There was no other choice for him but to control his reaction. To keep his covert work intact, he had to ignore the commotion for now. Maybe the situation would deescalate by itself.

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