Page 6 of Cutter

Except for the occasional nod, Blade didn’t show any emotion as he listened. When Cutter stopped, Blade gave a thoughtful sigh. “You did the right thing telling the detective I had to be involved. My first reaction is to warn you to stay the fuck out of that mess. Why put yourself in harm’s way? That MC is new to us. We don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

“There’s a but coming,” Cutter said.

“You ain’t no angel. None of us are,” Blade said. “But human trafficking and spreading dangerous drugs around, especially to kids, don’t sit right with any of us either. These guys drag a lot of unscrupulous, hardcore elements along with them, the kind most Americans aren’t familiar with. They’re going to ruin a safe residential neighborhood.”

“Are you going to help me?”

“What a question. You’re my brother. I owe you my life and my happiness. Leaving you alone and without backup ain’t happening.”

“Blade.” Cutter held up a hand. “There’s no need.”

“Sure, there is,” Blade growled. “You took the rap for me. Who the fuck does that? Since you’re involved in this investigation, and if I read you correctly, the little detective has caught your eye, then I’m in with you.” Blade picked up his phone and started typing a text. “Actually, it’s time to remind the Sons of Chaos we’re the established MC in the area. Breaker will begin the conversation.”

“Are you saying no one from Chaos has approached you? Fuck. They’re breaking protocol.”

Blade sneered. “Damned right, they are, and you know how I feel about disrespect and breach of established customs.”

“What are your demands?”

“For now, I wanna scope them out. Get a good read on them and assert our authority. They’re gonna have to comehere, grovel some, and make nice with the Devils’ Spawn.” Blade grinned. “Better stroke my ego. I’ll accept nothing less.”

This time, the hairs on the back of Cutter’s neck bristled. Better clean his SIG and get it ready for action. Whenever Blade gave that full-toothed smile, trouble was on the way.

Chapter Two

Emily returned to the partitioned detectives’ office, her thoughts churning in several directions. Inside her cubicle, she tossed the file on her desk and sat down with a huff. Leaning back, she blew out a long breath, enjoying a rare moment of peaceful silence. Two out of the three Garden City detectives were out in the field, investigating the incident at the convenience store.

This was overkill, if anyone asked her. One detective should’ve been sufficient to investigate a felony murder as cut and dried as this one. But Garden City was small, and unlike the bigger, more cosmopolitan neighboring Savannah, not many things happened here. When the call came, her fellow detectives nearly trampled each other on the way out. The sad truth was that even after hundreds of man-hours were invested in the investigation, the perp most likely wouldn’t be found and arrested, and the case would end up forgotten within a tangle of red tape.

Being the junior detective, she’d been ordered to be a “good girl” and man the phones. As luck would have it, the patronizing had worked to her benefit anyway.

Tapping her pencil on the desk, she revisited her conversation with the disturbingly appealing Cutter…and the unexpected flurry of sensations and emotions the big guy had reawakened.

Ominous and intense, Cutter’s presence had stirred her insides with the age-old irresistible pull toward the forbidden:“thou shall not eat of it.”And boy, if she were to be honest, she’d burn in that fire as she slowly tasted every part of the man to her complete satisfaction. Only a few years had passed since the night when she’d cuffed him, but his striking dark features, piercing brown eyes full of mysterious promises, and muscular physique had hijacked her imagination. How often had she reminisced and fantasized over a man who she knew wouldn’t notice her at all? She’d lost count.

In Emily Mayhew’s intimate world, Cutter was pure temptation, walking on long and powerful legs. Even though she hadn’t seen them displayed in the flesh, she could visualize their shape by the way the jeans above the lowcut boots molded the muscle. There was nothing soft in him. From top to bottom, Cutter oozed the raw Dominant Daddy masculinity she’d wished for in secret and hoped to find.

With her mind filled to the brim with images of Cutter, she went back in time to the night of his arrest…

Cutter had shocked Emily and her partner when he’d calmly offered his wrists to be cuffed—without so much as a hint of resistance. In her mind, it was a ridiculous act. The man had the build of a feral feline. How could someone her size possibly subdue him?

Emily had exercised as much composure as she’d been trained to do. But she’d been too aware of her pitifully trembling fingers when she’d snapped the cold metal clasp closed around his warm, sinewy wrists. Touching his steel-like forearmscovered in tattoos had sent ripples of desire everywhere, and every night thereafter, as she relived the moment.

Months later, as Emily pondered her firstbigarrest, she’d tried to figure out what sort of person would sacrifice his life and future, put so much at risk, for the sake of a friend. Because had the guard been severely injured or died, Cutter could’ve faced long years behind bars or even capital punishment. Not to mention the host of dangers life in prison presented, which she preferred not to think about.

Fortunately for the Devils’ Spawn and Cutter, any wounded rival club members had fled the scene. During questioning, Cutter had stated it was dark, and he’d struck the guard by mistake, thinking it was a rival. Investigations produced no weapon. No witnesses were found and no statements were made because other than a bump on the head, the guard hadn’t suffered serious bodily harm, couldn’t remember what happened, and just wanted to forget the incident.

As he had no prior record, Cutter’s case should’ve been dismissed.

Not so.

Rod Salazar, the ambitious and newly appointed DA, had wanted to make an example out of Cutter and send a message to the MCs in the region. So he took the case to a judge trial. The public defender advised Cutter to plea down to a battery charge. Although the judge wasn’t happy with the prosecutor’s zeal and the overall case, he still gave Cutter six months in county jail.

Two months later, the balance of justice tilted the other way.

A trusted confidential informant came out of the shadows. The informer presented Captain Weaver with credible evidence of Cutter’s innocence. The wrong man had been arrested. Cutter had confessed to a crime he hadn’t committed.

When Emily learned the biker had been released and all charges were dropped, she was privately pleased. Though shedidn’t know the details, as the evidence was kept confidential, she felt justice had finally prevailed. Cutter might not have been squeaky clean, but he hadn’t deserved jail time.

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