Chapter Fifteen

Cutter

 

 

 

 

Wrench’s room is tucked at the back of the club, out of earshot and eyesight. The whole room is filled with computers, printers, all sorts of techy shit that I have no clue about. Among it is some of the latest tracking and surveillance gear, not entirely legally obtained. The club functions on hard work and connections. Someone does you a favor, you’re into them for a marker. Trading markers is part of this world.

I need to see if he has found out where that asshole is hiding. When I track him down, he's in his usual place at the desk, typing away on the computer.

“You got anything for me?”

He spins in the chair, the look on his face answering me. “I only looked for an hour before Pres gave me a different assignment. He also said you can’t have us using club resources and providing protection for a girl who ain’t yours.”

Anger fills every inch of my body. “Bull-fucking-shit. She works for us. She’s entitled to protection.”

“While she’s at the club, yes, not in the way you want, brother, sorry. You want any more, you gotta take it up with Pres. Otherwise, let it go.” He moves out from behind the desk and holds the door open. “Let’s get to church.”

Like fuck I am letting this go. I need to find out where Dylan is. I know that he won't accept her leaving him and I want to get to him before he tries to get to her.

It’s a full house today. I take my seat toward the head of the table with the other officers, resting my chin on my hands when Pres bangs the gavel.

"Don't know who they are, or what they want, but some fuckers are messing with our runs. Wrench is working on it, but we don’t have much to go off. Our last run was hijacked, but luckily everyone got away and the product was secured. We are not on lockdown . . . yet. If this shit escalates, it might lead to one."

The murmurs around the table start as we all anticipate what this could mean. We’ve had our share of turf wars and battles with other clubs, but things have been quiet recently—something most of us have enjoyed. None of us want the shit storm that brings again.

“Second order of business—” A knock on the door sounds. Pres looks around the room. “One of you get up and see what the fuck is so important that they are interrupting church.” One of the prospects walks in, looking like his balls are about to shrivel up and die. “You make it a point to interrupt important shit?”

“Whip’s old lady’s on the phone. She said they got problems and to get him or Cutter.”

I’m out of my chair and over to him before he’s even finished talking, snatching the phone out of his hand. “Luce?”

“You need to get here now. There’s a delivery, and it ain’t the takeout I ordered. I’m thinking this was her prick husband.” The shake in her voice gives her away.

“Fuck, on my way.” I give the prospect back his phone and look up at Pres.

“Church ain’t over.” He’s glaring. I can’t disrespect him in front of the brothers. I also need to leave, now.

“Lucy and Jasmine are at my place.” I look at Whip. “Something is up, I’m not sure what because Luce didn’t tell me over the phone, but she sounded off. She told me to get there. She thinks Jasmine’s husband is screwing with them.”

Whip stands, leaning across the table, eyes on Pres.

“If the asshole knows that’s Cutter’s place, I need to get Lucy out of there.”

The room goes quiet. Against my better judgment, I shoot Pres a look. I haven’t got time for this shit.

"Everyone else out!" Pres bangs his fist on the table, his words grating through his teeth. There’s no pause. Everyone except Pres, Whip, and me leave the room.

He looks over at Whip. "You, too. He'll be there in a minute."

The door slams. “You have to—”

Pres is across the room in a second, his finger in my face. “I don’t have to do shit. We have fucking rules, and they have been around longer than your ass, Cutter. Girls get protection and backing if they are club property. Just because you feel fucking bad for the girl don’t make her an exception.”

He turns and takes his seat at the head of the table. “Wrench isn’t looking into the husband, and there will be no prospect watching over her. You got a problem with the by-laws, I don’t know what to tell you, ’cause they ain’t changing.”

A thousand thoughts are running through my mind. If the asshole knows where my place is then this could get really bad, really fast, and as fired up as I am, having my brothers at my back would make this so much easier. But Pres is right—my concerns don’t mean shit while Jasmine is just an employee. When you claim a girl she's tied to you for life. Am I willing to do that? Tie myself to a woman who I'm not even sure will want me once she's better? Hell, I'm not even fucking sure that it would work between us.

He’ll get to her.

With one hand on the door, I turn to Pres. "I'm fucking claiming her."

I open the door and slam it shut behind me. I very well could have just permanently screwed myself, but if it means Jasmine will be safe and have a chance to get herself free from this asshole, it’ll be worth it. Her life is more important than anything else. I might be shooting myself in the goddamn foot, but I don't give a shit right now.

I start jogging down the hall.

“Cutter!” Whip catches up to me but I don’t stop. I just head out front to my bike.

Out of the corner of my eye I see him swing a leg over his Harley, the roar from the engine merging with mine, obliterating the silence of the street. Mile by mile, our tires eat up the distance between the clubhouse and my place.

My bike is barely parked when I hop off, racing up the steps. I throw open my door stopping when a pungent smell fills my lungs, making me thankful I haven’t had a chance to grab lunch yet.

I cover my mouth with my T-shirt. “What the fuck is that?”

Lucy and Jasmine come out of the hallway, their faces wracked with fear. “I ordered food,” Lucy says as she walks over to Whip, wrapping her arms around him, tucking her head under his arm. “It’s the same place I always order from. The guy dropped it off and I didn’t smell it at first. Then I opened the bag and pulled out the container and there it was.” She nods to the bag.

“Go stand with Jasmine, babe,” Whip says after placing a kiss on her mouth.

Lucy nods. I look at Whip and flip open the lid of the container. Staring up at me is the head of what seems to be a small pig, lipstick smeared across its snout. A small piece of paper pokes out of the mouth. I use a pen to open the mouth and retrieve the bloodied note.

You can’t hide forever.

“Fuckin’ sick asshole.”

A sharp scream pierces the air. I turn, looking over Whip’s shoulder to see Jasmine’s hand is over her mouth. She turns and runs down the hallway. Lucy appears in the doorway. “I’m sorry,” she says, before racing after Jasmine, and I’m glad she has because as much as I want to make sure she’s okay, I need to handle shit.

Whip takes the note from me, turning it over. There’s nothing else on it.

“Call the restaurant and find their driver. I need to know how this happened. I’m calling Wrench. We need to find this fucker.”

“Thought Pres said—”

“Yeah, well, I fucking claimed her. She’s club property now.”

The last thing I need right now is to be fucking questioned. I just want to stop this before it gets any worse. I pull out my phone and dial Wrench’s number.

“I was expecting your call sooner.” He laughs, but from where I’m standing there’s fuck all funny about this.

“I need him found yesterday.”

I hang up and fight the urge to walk back to my bedroom. Whip is nowhere to be seen. Where the hell could he have gone? I toss the container back into the bag, tie it up twice, and then toss it into the trash.

The house is quiet. No sounds are coming from the bedroom so I’m guessing Lucy managed to calm Jasmine down. I wander into the kitchen, looking for Whip.

“Restaurant hasn’t heard from the guy in over an hour.” I turn around to see him walk in. “Checked the street. There’s a car parked in the lot with some food orders in it. I looked in the back seat and there’s a tarp there. Can’t be certain but I think he’s on the floor. Car is locked so I don’t know if he’s alive or not.”

"Fuck, that means it wasn't him who brought this shit up here."

The fact that Dylan had the nerve to come to my place makes my blood boil. With each passing day, the amount of pain I want to inflict on him grows. One thing is for sure: he won't survive what I'm ready to do to him.

Whip takes out a smoke and lights up. “You got a plan?”

No. I do not have a fucking plan.

“She can’t stay here, obviously—especially if I’m not here. When I’m not home with her, she’ll be at the clubhouse.” I know that it’s gonna be a problem for her. I doubt she’s ready to deal with all the bullshit that goes on there, and I honestly don't know how her damaged mind will make out there. I don't have a choice, though. I can't even send her to Ambrosia because I'm sure the asshole knows to check there. "You heading back to the club?"

“Yeah. Gotta get some shit done.”

“Let Pres know what happened. Tell him to text me if he needs anything.”

“Sure thing, brother. Luce!” There’s a moment’s pause before Lucy comes walking out of the bedroom, slipping her patch on. “We gotta go.”

Whip heads out to his bike. Lucy starts to follow but then stops and turns, coming over and giving me a hug. “She’ll be okay. She’s got it in her, she just needs help finding the strength.”

“Thanks, sorry about this shit.”

She offers me a smile before following Whip out the door.

I take a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself down before I walk down the hallway. The last thing Jasmine needs right now is for me to be angry. She’s had too much of that in her life. There isn’t enough time for me to completely cool down, but as I skirt the edges of livid, I go to the bedroom and find Jasmine is sitting cross-legged on the bed. I sit down next to her, not having a clue what to say.

My instinct is to pull her to me, tell her that I claimed her today and she's mine. Let her know that I want her to be mine in every sense of the word. I'd vow to protect her from this crazy psycho and then I'd take her until the memory of today was erased. That won't work with her, though. I think the thought of being property would do the opposite of what I'm trying to accomplish. I'm also sure that me taking her and making her mine would scare her more than being my property.

Fuck.

So instead of saying anything and potentially fucking this situation up even more, I lie back and pull her down next to me, tucking her into my side, my arms wrapping around her, holding on until her body relaxes against mine. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” I say, pressing my lips to her hair. She nods and the both of us just lie quiet for the longest time.

My fingers are running through her hair when my phone buzzes.

Pres: I know you have your own shit going on there, but you need to be on this run. Leaving tonight back tomorrow afternoon. I’m having Nikki get your room ready for your woman. Whip said you didn’t want her at your place. Understandable.

“Shit.”

Jasmine turns in my arms. “What’s wrong?”

Her face is creased with worry lines and her big eyes look up at me. My arms tighten around her as I rest my forehead again hers. “I have to go on a run tonight. I won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon.”

It takes a minute but as the realization sets in her body hardens.

“I can’t leave you here alone so you’re gonna stay at the club, but I don’t know how that will go for you. It’s not an easy place to be sometimes.” The parties, the club girls looking for a fight, none of it is what she needs to be around right now.

“I’ll be okay.” I know she is trying to be brave—finding the strength that Lucy said she had.

I pull my head back and look her in the eye. “Nothing will happen to you.” I can see the trust there—barely. It’s mixed with fear, though, and that guts me.

I lean my head down, touching my lips to hers. I know that taking her would be wrong, but I need to touch her, need to feel her. Her hand fists my shirt and I pray it’s a good feeling running through her because when her mouth opens to me, I take full advantage. She tastes sweet and it’s like an addiction that’s taking over me, I can feel my need for her grow. It forms a haze around us where nothing else matters. When a tiny moan escapes her mouth I pull back, knowing that if I keep going I won’t be able to stop.

She looks up at me, a small sated smile crossing her face.

“We need to get going.” I stand up before I lose all control.

“Umm . . . okay.”

She sounds disappointed. Watching her move around the room robotically once again, her eyes downcast and not making contact with mine, is a kick to the stomach.

I walk over to her taking the bag that she’s packing from her hands and putting it on the dresser. “What’s wrong?” Her eyes look everywhere but at me. “Look at me. Tell me what it is.”

She sighs. “I just . . . I’m sorry if I wasn’t good. I haven’t really—”

“What are you talking about?”

“The kiss. I just don’t have a lot of experience.” Her teeth tug on her bottom lip and she tries to move away from me. I put out an arm to stop her. I did jump out of the bed like there was a damn fire. No wonder she’s upset.

"The kiss was fucking great." Her eyebrows draw in. "If I didn't get up right then and there I would have taken it somewhere I don't think you’re ready for."

Her eyes go wide as a small blush reddens her cheeks. “Oh.”

I press my mouth against hers again to show that I can't resist her. When she puts her hands on my hips, her fingers digging into my skin, I force myself to pull back.

“You’re a goddamn drug, woman.” I smile as she laughs.

The wall she built is starting to crack.

With each smile, each laugh, and each kiss, I’ll knock that shit down until there’s nothing left.

Nothing but her.

And, hopefully, me.