Page 10 of Devil to Pay: Cutter

She flinches. “That’s not fair.”

“I don’t answer to bitches. I go where I want.”

She lowers her chin, casting her eyes to the floor as her words come soft, almost a whisper. Almost like she’s talking to herself, not me. “So I’m your prisoner. Got it.”

“Woman, lie down. Take a load off. You’ve got to be wiped. Are you hungry?”

Aja walks over to the bed. She drops down on the edge to begin removing her boots before adjusting the pillow against the headboard and making herself tentatively comfortable.

As I wait for an answer she glances up at me through her thick lashes in a way that can only be described as a demure move that goes straight to my dick. “I could eat,” she says.

“You stop any place good in Tennessee?”

“No. My only stop was that Speedway you clearly know about. I got a double cheeseburger, but while I was eating, a man approached me for sex.”

My whole body locks. “What?”

“I didn’t do it. I just made him think he was going to get sex then knocked him out while I was jacking him off.”

“Jesus—Aja!” This woman. I simultaneously want to fuck her, strangle her and hunt down that jackass for daring to approach her. At the same time she makes me want to laugh with how honest she is. She’s not trying to shock me. She’s just telling it like it is. No games. I find that so refreshing.

“What? He wasn’t just going to give me that hundred and fifty, and I certainly wasn’t going to suck him. I had no choice. I knocked him out, took the money, and got the hell out of there.”

“You seem to say that a lot: You had no choice.”

“I needed money. What was I supposed to do? You think I should’ve sucked him?”

“You didn’t need money. You hadmymoney.”

“Seven hundred isn’t enough to get to California on.”

“You’re heading for California? Why?”

She presses her lips together in a slight grimace, tilting her head to the side as her face takes on a pensive expression. “To start a new life.”

The woman hasn’t given up her secrets yet, but that bruise on her cheek gives me a good idea as to why she needs to start a new life. The bitch stole from me, yet that’s the furthest thing from my mind having her here in my room. The motherfucker who hit her better hope we never meet. He won’t just get a taste of his own medicine, but more than a taste of mine. I move closer, remembering how it felt to have her in my arms but stop before touching her. “I got clean T-shirts in the dresser. Get comfortable. I’ll grab you some food. How you feel about orange chicken?”

“I love orange chicken.”

Right. I nod then turn to get the hell out of there before I end up fucking her brains out again. My brain keeps telling me,“Cutter, you’re pissed as hell at the bitch.”And my brain is right. But my dick keeps reminding me,“Cut, she was the best fuck of your life. You need to hit that again, in every position you can think of.”The problem is, my dick is right, too.

I pause to listen at the door for movement. Once I hear her open my drawers, I lock the door and head back into the main room to find a prospect. She needs food and now I’m in the mood for orange chicken, too. And those saucy noodles. Oh—and those wontons with the pork. Crab rangoons. Egg drop soup. Spring rolls.Fuck. Now I’m even hungrier.

“Horace,” I bellow. He’s the newest prospect. Just moved him up from a hanger-on. Young. He’s still in the cleaning the toilets stage of prospecting. Horace comes running.

“Whatcha need, Cutter?” He’s a good kid. Twenty, I think. A little gangly and wears his hair like he went through and emo phase in school. I still have no idea what he’s doing prospecting for an MC. But he’s willing to take our shit to be here and so far isn’t scared by the life. If he hits the gym and gets himself a few more tats to make him look less innocent, he’ll fit in just fine as a patched-in member.

“Orange chicken. Noodles. Fried pork wontons. Crab rangoons. Egg drop soup. Spring rolls.” I move my finger in a circle. “All that. Two orders.”

He scrunches his face at me. “Where do I get that in Bentley?”

“Bentley? You can’t get shit in Bentley. You’re heading for Emperor’s Garden in Middlesboro. Best get on the road now. I’m starved.”

For the briefest moment, he looks like he wants to argue, but that’ll get his ass booted faster than he can blink. As a prospect, he does whatever any full brother tells him to do without question. Even if it’s ‘take a dump on Vlad’s bike,’ which I’d never do to Vlad, though it’d be pretty damn funny to watch.

“Can you repeat that into my phone?” he asks. “Don’t want to forget anything.” He pulls his phone from his front jeans pocket, swipes up, clicks on the notepad app then presses the mic icon, waiting for me to repeat myself.

Normally this shit would piss me off, but strangely enough, I’m in a pretty good mood considering all that’s gone down, and I like the kid so I repeat my order without punching him.

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