Page 16 of Devil to Pay: Cutter

“Good deal. I can do that, too. Now, how about you give me half of your food and I’ll give you half of mine? That way, we get to try everything.”

Itisa good deal. There’s no way a man like Darrin could keep me safe from the Death Bringers the way the Horde will with me sleeping in their compound every night, and I get bacon and hash browns, too?Hell yeah!I don’t think this day could go any better.

We divvy up the goods and I get down to eating, feeling better about our arrangement. It’s good to know where I stand. I can work within his parameters. After that, we get down to the business of enjoying each other’s company again.

“What brought you to joining the Horde?” I ask.

“Same as anyone, I suppose. I came from a shit home. Dropped out of school. Spent some time in lockup—minor shit. After I got out, the last time, I went to work for a man who taught me to rebuild Harleys from the tires up.” He pauses to take another bite. “Met Rough when he came into the shop for a new part. Told me he’d been hanging around this MC called The Bedlam Horde and was about to start his prospecting period. I didn’t know much about MCs at the time, but Rough told me I should come check it out.”

While he pauses to take another bite, I add two more creamer cups and another sugar packet to my coffee. The food is fantastic. The coffee, however… I think they gave us the bottom of the carafe. Next cup, I’m ordering fresh. Cutter watches me as if he’s actually interested. Like he’s considering my preferences, which is so wrong and stupid for me to consider. He doesn’t even consider us friends. It’s best I just get those kinds of thoughts out of my head now. I know what he wants from me. He knows what to expect from me. A woman can’t really ask more than that in this hell we call life.

As I lift the cup to my mouth, his eyes follow. Cutter clears his throat then continues his story. “If the brothers agreed, they’d let me hang around. After a year or two, they liked me, they’d let me prospect.”

“So you needed to hang around for two years?”

“Fuckno.” His lip curls in disgust as his eyes go cold, flat, while he stares me down. He’s not really looking at me, though. More caught up in an unpleasant memory. “It was bullshit. They called hangers-on fucking clingers and shit. Treated the pussies better. Told ’em I wasn’t down with this hanging-on bullshit. They take me as a prospect or I walked. Our old president, Rage, he shoved me down to the dirty, piss-, booze-, and cum-sticky floor. Told me to lick his boots clean. Then I could skip to prospecting.”

I gasp. I can’t help it. That’s utterly disgusting and something I’m sure the president of the Death Bringers made their prospects or hangers-on do on the daily. “You licked his boots?”

Cutter drops his fork and knife. “Fuck no. Who am I?”

“Uh… Cutter?”

“Yeah, and I got the name that very night. Flipped open my switchblade, shot to stand, and sliced him from hairline to chin. Cut that sucker in deep. Left a thick scar running down the length of his face for the rest of his life.”

“And they let you in after that?”

“Clearly. He admired my tenacity. Said I must have had balls of steel to take him on.” Cutter shrugs. “Then he punched me hard enough in the gut for me to double over and my prospect period started.”

I should be scared of him hearing that. I should not want to have anything to do with him. I should get the hell away from Cutter and the Horde.

The problem is, I find it hot. I find everything about Cutter hot, but, like, hearing that makes me want to drag him to the bathroom to fuck his brains out.

But I won’t. No, of course I won’t. I need a rest.

“What?” he asks, eyeing me suspiciously.

“Can I be honest with you?”

“Please.”

“My pussy needs the recoup time, but that story seriously turned me on.”

“You got an ass,” he says in this sexy, low, rumbling voice.

“Ha! You don’t getnearmy ass without some major prep first. Think to shove that elephant schlong inside without at the very least some numbing lube, I’ll cut that thing off while you sleep.”

I expect him to get angry because I suspect women don’t backtalk him very often. Hell, I don’t think most men backtalk Cutter. But he surprises the hell out of me by throwing his head back to laugh.

Who is this man? I sit here stunned into silence, watching him. Taking in the beauty that is Cutter. Laughter makes him look younger.

“Eat,” he says, pointing his knife at me. “Then we’ll get you those clothes.”

Damn. Seeing the slight glow to his cheeks and hearing the richness of his voice, he could order me to lickhisboots and I’d probably do it.

This is bad. I have to get gone. Fast. Super fast.Yesterday. Because God help me, I’m going to end up falling for another dead end.

When will I finally start making good decisions?

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