OWNED: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Blood Warriors MC)

by Naomi West

  He shrugged. “When all the guys are in one place. Could be in a couple days, could be next week. We got a couple guys in lockup right now, so it might be a while.”

  She hadn't known about that! She made a face. “In lockup?” she asked.

  He nodded, solemnly. “Wyland.”

  All she needed was that one word. So, her fiancée was coming after them, too. She didn't know why, though. Maybe, she figured, they were just easy pickings. He'd always been more interested in his career than anything else, and he already had his eye on the District Attorney's job. All he needed to get there was some good headlines. And a notorious MC like Cutter and his friends would fit that bill perfectly.

  She took a sip of coffee. The hot liquor burned at the same time it soothed.

  “Guess it's time,” Cutter said after a while, “we discussed the sleeping arrangement here. The two guys I mentioned, they don't have bunks here, so we're full at the moment.”

  Here it came. A mixture of heady desire and trepidation filled Liona. She hadn't ever slept with another man besides Wyland. In one sense, she was attracted to Cutter, but she still couldn’t figure him out. Had the tension she’d felt earlier between them been sexual in nature. Her mind wandered again as she wondered what he would be like. Would he be too rough with her? Could she handle a man like him? And would she be woman enough to satisfy his needs?

  It wasn't the expectation of sex that worried her, really. She'd been going through that with Wyland for years. Paying for her room and board with her body had become almost second nature.

  “So, I hope my bed is comfortable enough for you,” Cutter said. “Don't worry, I'm taking the couch in the rec room.”

  A bit of a shock hit her, then. “You ... you're not ...?”

  “Not what?” Cutter asked, clearly confused.

  He hadn't been planning on taking advantage of her at all, she realized. She was a person in need, to him, not some piece of meat he could use for his every whim.

  Inside, she was ecstatic that he wasn't like that. At the same time, though, she was a little hurt he didn't seem to want her in that way. She blushed and shook her head and looked down at her bourbon-laced coffee. “Nothing,” she muttered. “Nothing, I guess.”

  “Uh ...” he said. “Oh ... kay?”

  She looked back up at him, a small, soft smile on her face now. “Anything else I should know about?”

  “Yeah,” he said, setting his coffee cup back on the dresser. “Don't be worried about the guys. They know who you are, and they know you're my friend. They're all gruff, mostly, and may mess with you a bit, but if the MC says it'll protect you, that's what we'll all do.”

  She nodded, a flush growing on her face, and her smile growing bigger.

  “What?” Cutter asked, returning her smile.

  She shook her head. “Nothing.” She looked back down at her coffee, thinking about her words. “It's just that, well, I'm wondering where you've been all this time. You and your guys. And, I'm just thinking about how lucky I was that you happened to be riding by.”

  “Guess that's what it was,” he said. “Luck. I wasn't even planning on going to the wedding, you know. But, then Wyland had one of the guys arrested at the restaurant.”

  She smiled, but then thought about what he'd just said. She cocked her head to the side. “How'd you know about the wedding? Hear about it on Facebook or something?”

  “No,” he said and gave her a perplexed look. “You sent me an invitation at the restaurant. Didn't you?”

  She shook her head. “I didn't even know you were still around, remember?”

  “Oh ...” Cutter said, his brow furrowed. “That means Wyland must have.”

  “Why, though?”

  He shook his head. “This is just too weird.” He let the subject drop after that. It was probably for the best they didn't dwell too much on Wyland's obsessiveness.

  “Well, tell you what,” she said after another sip of the spiked coffee, “how about I take a shower and get some of this makeup off?”

  “Yeah,” Cutter said, grabbing his coffee mug off the dresser and heading to the door, “probably a good idea. Bathroom's through there. Faucet's a little finicky on the hot water, so be careful. It'll scald.”

  She drank down the rest of her coffee and got up off the bed. “Don't worry, I'll be careful.”

  Chapter 10

  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 se
en 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.”

  Chapter 11

  Liona

  Cutter held her like that for a while, and they just talked like the old friends they were. They talked about her friend Carly, about her dad and mom. About her life, her hopes and dreams. She melted into him, into the feel of his strong, warm arms around her. He didn't offer to fix anything, he didn't offer his advice. He was just there, present, a warm, comforting shoulder to cry on. She even forgot that she was dressed only in her towel, and practically naked as she sat next to him. After a while, though, their stomachs began to grumble. He glanced up and checked the time on his alarm clock.

  “Hungry?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I can eat.”

  “You should probably put some clothes on, then,” he replied with a deep laugh. “Unless you wanna give the guys a show.”

  She looked down at her nearly nude body, covered only in her towel wrapping, and her laughter joined his. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  He got up from the bed. “I'll give you some privacy,” he said. “If you follow the hall back down, you'll see the rec room, and the kitchen beyond that.”

  She nodded as she got up. “Got it.” She waited for him to leave before she headed to the bathroom. Along the way, she gathered up her trail of clothes. She hung up her towel, a thousand thoughts filling her mind.

  She still couldn't believe she'd let Wyland do this to her, make her a victim. Even as she thought about the series of events that had occurred, about the small, incremental changes that had happened in her life, a flush crept into her cheek. As she stared into the mirror, completely naked in Cutter's bathroom, she realized that this was her moment. This was her chance to take control back. Cutter wasn't going to do everything for her. He might try to punish Wyland, hurt him in every way he knew how but it was up to her to provide her own focus and control in her life.

  No one was going to do it for her.

  “You got this, girl,” she said to her reflection, and nodded. “You got this.”

  She looked around for a brush. Of course, he didn't have one. She grabbed one of his combs off the edge of the sink, instead, and ran it through her damp hair. She worked out the tangles, her mind still swirling.

  She'd made the wrong decision all those years ago, she realized. She'd been blinded by Wyland's family's wealth, his prospects for the future, the gifts he'd showered on her with his ample allowance. She hadn't looked at Wyland's mother, or his father, to see what kind of man he might become.

  Back then, she should have been looking at Cutter. Now, she could see him for the good, honest man that he was. Sure, he was
rough around the edges. But he'd never hurt her. She was more than just some kind of trophy for him, a bit of arm candy to show around at parties and functions.

  She frowned into the mirror as realization set in.

  It was probably too late, despite what Cutter said or implied about his feelings for her. He wouldn't have her, now, not after all these years. How could he? She had Wyland's prints all over her, little proofs of his tender “love.” And, then again, she'd chosen Wyland, and not the man Cutter used to be. She hadn't believed in him back then, believed in the kind of man he would become.

  Besides, what kind of man would take her now? Especially after she'd become such damaged goods. She was broken, just like Humpty Dumpty. And, just like the big egg from the nursery rhyme, all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put Liona back together again. She nearly began crying again, but somehow managed to keep her tears locked up inside her.