Cutter
He closed the door quietly behind him and headed out into the rec area. Smalls and a few of the guys were playing cards, and some others were just throwing darts. They didn't have any clear direction, no overriding goal to keep them focused. So, now, it was just time to sit and wait. Tom Petty had been right. Waiting was actually the hardest part.
Smalls looked up from his hand. “She settling in alright?”
Cutter shrugged. “Guess so. She's taking a shower right now.”
He considered mentioning the revelation about the wedding invitation, about the card being from Wyland, and not Liona. But, something like that wouldn't have done any good, or served any purpose. All he'd do is raise some hackles and get some of the guys more concerned than they needed to be at that point. Besides, they'd all voted on the matter. For the time being, everything was settled in the MC.
At the same time, though, not telling them immediately was eating away at his insides. He wasn't normally one to keep something from the guys unless it was because of compartmentalizing their “business.” In that case, keeping information back was as much for the MC's safety as it was for his.
This was a different matter. Didn't they deserve to know that the new assistant DA had a hard-on for them, one that went beyond just making a name for himself?
“You okay, buddy?” Smalls said after a moment.
Cutter waved him off and pushed the thoughts from his mind. “Nah, I'm fine. Just thinking about all this stuff, why she left him. That kind of shit.”
His second-in-command nodded, understanding. “It's screwy, buddy. Real screwy.”
Then, Cutter remembered something. He didn't have any clean towels in his bathroom. “Shit,” he muttered. “Towels.”
Smalls laughed as Cutter turned and stalked out of the rec room and went to the central linen closet. With as many beds as they had, and as many showers, they had to have a central place to keep everything organized. He opened the closet up and pulled down a couple towels, tucked them under his arm, and headed back down to his bunk.
He pushed the door open without even thinking about it and marched into his bedroom. Liona had left her clothes on the floor, making a trail that led right into the bathroom. He could hear the shower running but, for some reason, it just didn't register that he should knock. This was his bathroom, after all. He hardly even let the girls from the club shower in there. He was too worried they might see too much in such a small gesture and start getting clingy.
He pushed the door open and walked right in, towels still tucked under one arm.
Naked, Liona was half hidden by the curtain as she leaned in to adjust the water. She turned and cried out, a startled yelp that jarred Cutter and caused him to drop his bundle. She yanked the curtain in front of her instinctively, trying to cover her nude form from his sight.
“Oh, shit!” Cutter said, startled by her reaction, and the fact that she was naked in front of him for the first time ever. He went to cover his eyes but couldn’t help catching a glimpse of her wonderful body.
He also couldn’t help notice the imperfections. Mottled purple bruises covered her torso. The last time Cutter had seen something that bad, it had been on his own body when he'd slipped up on his bike. They were everywhere clothes would always cover: the top of her thighs, her back, her stomach, her ribs. Big, fist-sized bruises that marred her perfect skin.
His vision went red with rage. It didn’t take much to fill in the pieces. The thought that Wyland could have won her in high school the way he did, then hurt her like this! For a moment, he flashed back to when he was growing up, when he'd seen the black eye on his mother's face. Back then, it had been a feeling of helplessness that had flooded him. Now, though, he understood why some people murdered. Why some people killed in a blind passion.
He stepped towards her, hand outstretched. “Liona, Jesus-”
She flinched back, her eyes wide, her lower lip trembling. “Please,” she whispered, her words seemingly catching in her throat. “Just give me a second.”
Something inside Cutter broke. Like a hand had reached into his chest, grabbed his heart, and began to squeeze. He turned away from her, to give her privacy, and put the towels on the sink. He walked back out into his bunk and sat down on the bed, trying to control his breathing. He needed to control his breath, he knew, or he'd fly off the handle and do something crazy. And he couldn't have that. Not now. Not anymore.
He'd loved this woman since the first time he saw her all those years ago. Loved how fierce she'd been, how strong and sure of herself. Now, here she was, carrying the marks of that motherfucker. Cringing away from him like an injured animal.
In the bathroom, the curtain rings clinked together as Liona got in the shower and pulled the curtain closed. Now, Cutter knew why she'd left him at the altar. He shook his head, but kept his breathing steady. If only she'd left him earlier. He ...knew that women in those kinds of situations sometimes didn't have options, didn't have choices. They thought no one would believe them, no one would help. And, if they did say a word, their abuser might come for them, might hurt them worse.
His mother had been that way. She'd stayed with Cutter's dad until the old man croaked from lung cancer. Cutter had enjoyed watching that, the old piece of shit's hair falling out, his skin going flabby and yellow as he withered away to nothing but a husk that couldn't harm a fly.
Where Cutter had grown up, on that side of town, wife beating was pretty common, especially on a Saturday night after a husband had had a few beers. No one called the cops about a few yells, or some screams of pain. Cops were for the rich people that could afford lawyers. People like Wyland, and his family.
Cutter had vowed to never touch a woman like that. Not ever. He'd kill himself before he became like his father. He could see now why Liona was so reticent about discussing why she'd left. To be on the run from your abuser was one thing. To have that same man be a member of law enforcement as district attorney was something else. Who would handle a restraining order? Who would even believe her?
He hung his head, cradled it in his hands. If Liona went forward with her experience, that's all they'd need to ruin Wyland and get them off his back, though. The MC could tear down his career in the eyes of the public, burn his reputation to the ground. No problem. That would still be too good for the likes of Wyland West. Men like that needed to pay. They needed to pay in blood. Men like him would continue to prey on other women somewhere else. This needed to end with her. Liona had to be the last one, no matter what.
A few minutes later, she got out of the shower and came to the bedroom door. She'd wrapped the towel around her body, hiding herself and the marks Wyland had left on her. She looked just as beautiful with her makeup removed and her hair down. “Still wondering why I left him?” she asked in a quiet voice.
He shook his head and sighed. “No. How long has it been going on?”
She came over and sat down on the bed next to him, close enough that her damp thigh pressed against his denim-clad leg. “Since after college, when he was in law school. He'd come home after blowing off some steam with a few beers down at the bar.”
He'd heard the same thing from his mother. His father had just been blowing off some steam. Cutter nodded as she spoke and sat there silently watching his hands. His hands that hadn't been able to protect the women in his life.
“First time he did it, he swore it would never happen again,” she said and gave a dry, mirthless chuckle. “The second time, he promised again. The third, he didn't even bother.” She reached down, touched Cutter's hand.
“Years, then,” Cutter said. It wasn't a question, just a statement of fact.
“Yeah,” she said. “Years. Soon, it just felt normal, you know? Well, not normal. But, like, this is my life? This is just how it is.”
He nodded again. Humans were so adaptable, they could get used to anything, like frogs in a pot water you set to boil. But, sometimes, they reached their breaking point, like she had. “You could have called me,” he said after a while.
She smiled, sniffled a little as her eyes began to water. “I didn't know where you were,” she said. “I was in a strange town, in another state, and didn't know anyone. And I didn't think you'd care, especially after the way everything had happened in school.”
He turned his head and looked at her, gazed deep into her beautiful, sad eyes. “I never would have turned you away, Liona. And I won't now.”
She pressed herself into his side. She sniffled. “Well, yeah, I get that now,” she said, smiling through the tears.
He enveloped her with his arm, wrapped it around her and pulled her close against him. “We're going to get this motherfucker,” he said, his voice quiet and devoid of emotion. “We're going to get him, and we're going to make him pay.”
“Really?” she asked, wiping a tear away from her eye with the heel of her hand.
“Yeah,” he said, holding her in his embrace and squeezing her shoulder. “You'll be the last woman he ever hurts. I promise.”