Page 41 of Devil to Pay: Cutter

“This is Danni,” Cutter says. “Her mother was Constantina Romero.”

“Fuck,” Reaper says, not mumbling.

“I take it you’ve all heard of her mother, then?” I ask.

“Wish we hadn’t,” he answers for the group. “I’m so, so sorry about your mom. We lost one of ours and almost lost a second.”

“I have money,” she says.

“For?” Cutter asks.

“For your help finding him. You’re working with the FBI, right? I saw the story on the news about you. I was here in Kentucky hoping to find you and like a miracle, you end up in the same diner as me.”

Cutter looks up at Reaper. They have a silent conversation, both ending it with a head nod. Then Cut gets up. “Give us a sec,” he says and he and Reaper move out of earshot. Dusty takes the spot Cutter vacated.

“I’m Dusty. Reaper, my husband, along with Cutter, are lieutenants in the Kentucky Horde. They have the ear of the president.”

She smiles tentatively. “I… um… I’ve never met real bikers before, like the kind who wear patches and have presidents. To be honest, I’m sort of intimidated by them. But I’m not scared. I can’t let myself be scared of anything.”

“Honey,” Dusty says, “everyone gets scared.”

Danni shakes her head vehemently. “Not when you’re hunting a serial killer. I can be scared once he’s off the streets and I get justice for my mom.”

I cut a look to Dusty, who has to be thinking the same thing as me. This woman is going to get herself killed. This is totally new territory for me, looking out for someone other than myself. Thankfully, Cutter and Reaper step up to the table again.

“We talked to our president,” says Reaper. “He wants us to bring you in, but, honey, it’s not safe for you to be out chasing this guy. We can’t let you continue.”

That’s a blow she lets all of us feel, but just as fast, she squares her shoulders and looks up at Reaper, which, when you’re sitting, means looking way up. “Then I won’t be going with you. I wanted your help, but I don’t need your permission. It’s unfortunate—” Her bottom lip quivers and I reach out to squeeze her hand. “He took everything from me and Misty,” she whispers.

“Misty?” Dusty asks.

“My younger sister. She’s with her dad right now, but she hates it there. She hates his wife and their kids are spoiled brats. Misty and I lived with our mom and we were happy. But the courts said I didn’t make enough to take care of both her and myself.” Danni wipes at her eyes. “I had a family. Now I have nothing and that’shisfault.”

“Shit.” Reaper drops one hand to his hip; the other he runs up his face in frustration.

“Follow us back to the compound,” Cutter says. “Vlad’s gonna hate this, but we’re helping you.”

“You sure?” Dusty asks.

“He’s definitely going to hate this, but yeah—we’re sure,” Reaper says in agreement.

With that response, I find even more respect for Reaper and fall even harder in love with Cutter. The men pay for our meals and for Danni’s, then she follows us outside.

The four of us get Danni’s number and make sure she has all of ours programmed in her phone before we take off.

“Set your GPS for Bentley,” Cut tells her. “In case we get separated on the highway, you know where you’re going.”

“Okay.” She opens her car door. It’s not old, but it’s not new. A beige sedan. It’s a middle class car for a middle class woman. Very nondescript. She stops before getting in. “Thank you. You don’t know what this means to me.”

I’m sure the others are aware, but I absolutely get it, having that hand reach out to you when you are desperate for help. It’s how I’ve lived my whole life.

We ride the two and a half hours back to the clubhouse. I thought that Dusty and Reaper would continue on home to Middlesboro, which is about a half hour farther down the road, but I suppose with Danni in tow, Reaper wanted to be here to help keep Vlad from going off on Cutter when Cut tells him what both Reaper and he decided about working with Danni.

I want to be around, but at the same time, the man already detests me. The last thing any of us needs is for Vlad to go extra jackass on Cutter because he doesn’t like that we’re together. I think I’d like to move closer to Reaper and Dusty. I wonder what Cut will think about that.

As we carry our bags into the clubhouse, I turn to my man and ask, “You want anything to eat? I think I’m going to make myself a sandwich.”

He cuts me a glance. “Babe, we just ate three hours ago.”

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