Page 22 of Devil to Pay: Cutter

The women begin to laugh—even Rae again—like I’m a sweet, summer child. So maybe it’s just me, then. Maybe there’s something wrong with me that I can’t seem to meet the right any kind of man, let alone a biker.

“Getting another drink,” I mumble, pushing up from the pool, the water dripping off my golden skin in rivulets, but when I make it to the table and pour what’s left of the margarita into my jar, it only fills the glass about a quarter of the way up. “We’re out of margs,” I call over to Nic.

“There’s more in the fridge,” she calls back. I guess that means I’m heading back into the house.

As I’m pulling the pitcher from the fridge, a throat clears behind me and I really wish someone else had come in to get the refill provisions. I turn around. Clearly, he wants me to.

“Vlad,” I say. “How are you?”

“What are you doing in here alone?”

I lift up the pitcher. “Nic sent me in for drinks.”

“My wife is a good woman.” He wears an angrily hard face until mentioning his wife, then it softens for the briefest moment before he turns that scowl and high voltage intensity eyes back on me. I just came in to get the drinks, for his wife, I might add, so I really don’t need this–him–getting inmyface.

“I agree.”

“She thinks because we’ve had luck with Dusty and Rae joining the club ranks as old ladies that every woman who finds herself here is good.”

“But I’m not an old lady.”

“Exactly.”

Oh, wow—that hurt. “What do you want, Vlad? Do you want me to leave? No sense beating around the bush now.”

“You stole from my brother. You’ve proven you can’t be trusted.”

“I stole from him because I was desperate. He got it all back.”

“Doesn’t negate the point.”

“Okay, let me drop this pitcher off and say my goodbyes to the women. I’ll be off club property no later than a half hour. Will that work for you?”

“You’re not leaving. Cut still hasn’t decided what he wants to do with you yet.” He takes what can only be described as a menacing step forward as he leans way into my body space. “But I’m warning you, bitch, you think to mess with my woman or any of these women, if you step even onetoeout of line, I will make you wish you were never born.”

“I’ll just go. Please give Nic my apologies. She can drop off my clothing and I’ll have her suit washed and ready to return.”

He doesn’t get to see my tears. He doesn’t care about them anyway, but they’re mine and he doesn’t need to know how his words have stung. I shove the pitcher into his surprised hands and make a run for the front door.

Their driveway is smooth, but the pavement on the forecourt of the clubhouse is cracked and has stones in places. The sun still burns hot enough to scald the bottoms of my feet. There are whistles and shouts from the men inside the main room when I yank the solid door open and run in. I need a shower. God only knows what’s dried on the flooring of this area.

Once inside Cutter’s room, I slam the door and lock it. Only now do I let myself cry. We were having a good day. Nic, Greer, and Rae all trying to convince me how there are good bikers. I guess they’re only good if you need rescuing, not if you’re in a pickle and rescue yourself.

After my shower, I dress in a pair of cutoff jean shorts and a T-shirt. The shorts were bought like that. I slip on a pair of thong sandals and slip out of my room. There’s yet another party going on.

The pussies, as the men call them, are wearing next to nothing, drinking, playing pool and even having sex right out in the open with various members of the Horde. Some are on their knees giving blow jobs. It’s nothing I haven’t witnessed before. The only thing to shock me is how decent the men are treating these women.

I don’t hear any degradation. No one is being forced as far as I can tell. Not one man has forced a woman to do anything. No guns pointed at their heads. I can give them this: It’s refreshing to see. But I don’t belong among the ranks. I don’t belong anywhere I have to people. Thus, as quietly as possible, I slip outside into the night. It’s still warm, but with a nice breeze trickling over my skin. The moon sits huge and full and bright in the sky, lighting up my steps while I make my way over to an old picnic table and heft myself up to sit on the tabletop.

The cicadas are buzzing tonight along with the crickets and I’ve got a lightning bug light show going on for my amusement. All that’s missing is Pink Floyd’sThe Dark Side of the Moonto complete the experience. And a joint. I could so use a joint to mellow out my nerves. Ever since Vlad and I had our little heart-to-heart today, I’ve felt on edge. Who could blame me? He’s a hulking, scary, biker man. I’m a pipsqueak comparatively. The man could eat me for dinner and use my bones to pick his teeth.

After about fifteen minutes of solitary bliss, a body sits down on the tabletop next to me. “What are you doing out here?” Cutter asks, bringing his booted feet up to rest on the bench seat. “How’d it go at Nic’s?”

How am I supposed to answer that? Well, the women were great, but they want you and I to be a couple and your president threatened my life? Because that would go over well. “When I was a little girl, my mama would have men over. A different man every night.” I stop to take a breath and swallow back the wave of emotion hitting me. “We lived in this tiny, broken-down trailer at the edge of a speck of a town. The whole town was poor. No one had jobs. Drugs warped good people. You knew you were the poorest of the poor when you lived in the trailer park of a town that poor. Now that I think of it, I’m sure my mom had sex for money. Or hell, it could’ve been drugs. There was this old dead oak tree, never grew any leaves, just off to the side of our lot. When the men came over, I would sneak outside and sit under that tree until they left so I didn’t have to hear them—or worse—see them going at it.”

“You saw them?” he asks. I wish I had the nerve to look at him, to read his expressions, but of anybody, Cutter’s judgement would hurt too much and he has to be judging me. How could he not? I wish I’d just kept my mouth shut. I grew up trash. Now he has the proof, the ammunition to use against me. Stupid, stupid Aja–I just handed it to him.

I nod.

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