by Naomi West
After all the years of abuse, gas lighting, and bullshit that man had put her through, he had the audacity to try for the higher ground. Liona gritted her teeth and made a noise of frustration, anger. “Did he use those exact words?” Liona demanded, seething with anger. Her voice echoed out over the deserted woods, but was answered back by only the rustling of branches.
Startled at the flash of anger, Carly took a step back. “Yeah, he did. Why?”
Boots crunched on the road as Cutter came bounding over, quick as lightning. “What's wrong?” he growled as he approached. “You okay?”
“Wyland,” Liona spat. “That fucking asshole said he'd take me back even after all the trouble I've put him through.”
Cutter didn't respond. Not at first. He took his time, thinking over his words as Carly gazed up at him in some sort of strange awe.
“Like,” Liona continued, “this has all been my fault, all on me. Fuck him.”
“Show her,” Cutter said, his voice steady.
Fear and shame rose up inside of her, though. She didn't to show her friend what she'd been hiding all these years. Just the betrayal of not telling her best friend, it would be too much to pile on top of all the other pain she'd already endured.
“Show me what?” Carly asked, a sudden resolve and strength entering her voice.
Cutter looked at her, his eyes caring and soft, but his mouth set and determined. “I know you don’t want to,” he said. “I understand how you feel, but she should know. For her own sake, and for yours.”
He was right. She had to show her friend. She had to accept the consequences of her actions, of her decision to hide things from the people she cared about, and who cared about her. She turned her face away, a frown firmly set on her lips, and grabbed the bottom hem of her shirt.
“Show me-” Carly repeated, but was cut off by Liona lifting her shirt to show her mottled and bruised midriff. The other woman went pale and mute.
After a couple days of healing her skin had gone from a stark blue-red to a splotchy jaundiced yellow as the bruises and contusions had begun to dissipate. They were the sickly color of old injuries, the kind that couldn't have been faked in just one day. It was clear they would have taken an extended amount of time to build up, time that she and Cutter hadn't had since the wedding.
Carly covered her mouth with one hand and let out a low, soul-shattering sob. It was like she'd taken all of Liona's pain over the years, gathered it up, and compressed it all down into that one, single, guttural note. “How?” she asked. “How did you ...?”
How had she hidden it from her? How had she avoided telling anyone? How had she not left Wyland sooner? How had she ever considered marrying that man? There were a hundred questions Liona imagined her friend asking.
“How did you,” her friend finally asked, though, “get in touch with Cutter to get away?” Tears filled the corner of her eyes as she drew Liona into a hug, pulling her against herself.
“I didn't,” Liona said, surprised tears running down her face, as she returned her friend's embrace. “I just took off out of the bridal room. I went out through the forest, and he was pulling over on the highway when I looked up.”
“Oh, my God,” Carly said, her tears really coming down now, “that's so weirdly fucking sweet.”
They sobbed into each other. “Thank you,” Liona said.
“Thank me?” her ex-maid of honor asked. “Thank Cutter.”
“Uh,” Cutter said from beside them, his boots shifting in the gravel. He was clearly uncomfortable with the amount of female energy coming off them in waves. He must have felt like a buoy in a flood of estrogen.
They broke their hug, both wiping tears from the corners of their eyes and drying their cheeks. Carly grabbed Liona by her shoulders and leveled her gaze. “Tell me what you need me to do.”
“Nothing,” Liona replied, shaking her head. “I don't want you near him, or any of this. Wyland's not stable, and I don't want you at risk.”
“Yeah,” Cutter said from beside them. “Best thing for you would be to get out of town.”
“What?” Carly asked, shocked. She shook her head, dismissing them both. “I'm not doing that shit.” She'd always been stubborn, more stubborn than any person Liona had ever met in her entire life. That was probably why they were still friends, truth be told. Every time Liona wanted to put off plans, or had been forced to because of Wyland, Carly wouldn't take no for an answer. She'd just show up anyways.
Liona smiled, wiped away another tear that had trickled down her cheek. “The cops are involved, girl. Wyland's coming for Cutter, too.”
“We don't know what he's going to do,” Cutter added.
“You think I can afford to take a trip after all this wedding bullshit?”
Beside them, Cutter dug into his back pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. There must have been thousands of dollars. “Here,” he said, taking Carly's hand and stuffing the money into it, “take this and disappear. Just for a little while? Okay?”
Her friend looked down at the stack of folded bills the big biker had just placed in her hand. Her jaw had fallen open, and if she wasn't careful she was going to get gravel pits on it. She looked back up to Cutter, then to Liona. “Are you fucking kidding me? What is this?”
Liona, as astonished as Carly had been, looked at Cutter. Where had he gotten that kind of money? Did he keep stacks of cash on reserve, or something?
“Traveling cash, okay? Just stay gone, and Liona will call you till it's safe. We don't want to give Wyland anymore leverage, or any other ways he might be able to track her. Please,” he said, his voice low and deadly serious, “this is for her safety, too. Not just yours.”
Her eyes changed. They narrowed, became harder, just as they were being opened to the world. Carly nodded, the gravity of the situation clearly beginning to set in. “Okay,” she said, looking from Cutter to Liona, and back again. “Okay, you're probably right. Should I go right now?”
“Right now,” Cutter agreed, nodding his head emphatically. “Soon as you can. Got it? And use the cash as much as possible, not your cards. Cops can track cards.”
“But, I don't even have any clothes.”
“Make it a shopping vacation, then,” Cutter insisted. “There should be plenty there.”
“Just go,” Liona said, grabbing her stunned friend's hand. “I'll be fine. He can protect me.”
“I just don't know if we can protect everybody,” Cutter said to Carly, emphasizing the last word. “Not unless you want to go into hiding, too.”
Carly shook her head at first, then shrugged. “Not unless you got some sexy bikers to keep me company, too.”
Cutter grinned a little to acknowledge her joke, but it quickly faded. “Unfortunately, not where we're staying.” He stopped and looked at both of them, his eyes cold and steely. This was a man who had things under control. Who could take care of Liona, keep her safe. “Say your goodbyes, ladies. We gotta get back.”
Liona didn't bristle at his statement. There was something about the way he said it, where it was just a statement of fact, and not a command, that she just nodded. “You heard the man,” she said, grinning a little lopsided grin as Cutter turned around and headed back to his bike.
“Yeah,” Carly said, agreeing with her. “I guess I gotta go. Where to, though?”
Liona shook her head. “I don't think we should know,” she said. “I just want you to be safe. Okay? Go somewhere far away. Far as you can get.”
Carly nodded. “Got it,” she said, then shook her head. “Shit.”
“What?” Liona asked, squeezing her hand.
“This is just so surreal,” Carly said, laughing a little as she squeezed her hand back. “Okay, I'm gone.”
The two women hugged again, more tightly this time. Liona noticed that Carly avoided her bruised areas when she squeezed. Not that it really mattered to Liona. She'd long ago learned to bear the constant pain.
They separated and Carly got back in her car
as Liona headed back over to Cutter. Her friend started up the little Honda and turned around, pulling back onto the road and heading off down the winding road.
Together, they waited in the silence, not saying a word. Liona wanted to ask Cutter about the money, about where it had come from. But, at the same time, she didn't want to know the answer. Instead, she just buried it down beneath a layer of reminders that she trusted this man. That, yes, he was dangerous. But, at least she'd known that when she pulled him into bed with her.
But, even more than that, she wanted to ask him about whether or not he really was worried about Carly. She hoped more than anything that she hadn't accidentally pulled her friend into a web of danger.
“She'll be fine,” Cutter said, somehow detecting her unease without her even saying anything. “I'm just being cautious, that's all.”
“You don't think he'd really do anything to her, would he?”
He shook his head silently. “I don't know. But, if we remove your friend from the equation, we prevent him from using her. Don't we?”
“Yeah,” Liona replied as they watched her friend drive away into the night, high beams on. “I suppose so.”
Soon, Carly's taillights disappeared around the bend, and even the sound of her distant car couldn't be heard anymore over the shaking of the tree limbs all around the pair. “Ready?” Cutter asked as he climbed back onto his chopper.
“Yeah,” Liona said. “I'm ready.”
She hopped up on his chopper behind him and, together, they took off through the night.
Chapter 19
Cutter
It was the MC's traditional night off from opening Farm to Fable in the morning, and the Vanguard clubhouse was in full swing when they got back. Cutter, normally always one for a party, didn't really appreciate it. They were supposed to be keeping a low profile while all this shit was going on. Not having a party out in front, complete with burning barrels and drunk club girls littering the parking lot.
Still, he had to admit he hadn't specifically told the guys not to have one. And, when you got down to it, it would actually be more suspicious if they didn't throw a party. That might get their usual attendees talking about changes going on in the club. Changes that very well might tip off Wyland as to where Liona might be hiding.
Engine idling, he walked his rumbling bike through the crowd of revelers to his parking spot through the crowd of revelers. Liona shifted around in her seat, her head whipping back and forth, as they moved through the crowd.
“Oh, my god,” she said, amazed by the array of people, “this is fucking insane.”
“Ain't even midnight, yet,” Cutter said, trying to suppress a grin. “Things don't get really going till closer to two.”
They got down off Cutter's bike, and he ushered her inside and away from the madness. There weren't ticket takers at this kind of thing, no one checking ID's. There was no telling what kind of person could just walk up and scope out the place. Liona was safer inside, away from the noise and all the potential interlopers.
“You guys have these a lot?” she shouted as they pushed their way through the crowded entry and into the densely-packed rec room. He had a hand on her as they threaded their way through the mass of people.
“Every week,” he shouted back as he pulled her along in his wake. “Gotta let the boys blow off some steam, you know?”
“Just some steam?” she shouted back, a grin growing on her lips. “This is worse than the keggers in college!”
They entered the rec room and headed back to the hallway that led through to the bunks. All manner of people packed the place: freaks, punks, bikers, you name it. But most of them all had two common denominators: black leather and tattoos. Here, Liona stuck out like a pure near-virginal thumb.
“Frat boys are fucking pansies,” Cutter shouted back, a big grin spreading on his lips.
As much as he knew he needed to protect Liona, that she was his priority, he still wanted to stay out here in the hustle and bustle of the drunken crowd. He might need the couple hours’ silence in the morning, but he needed this kind of release in the same way. Drinking beer with your buddies, cheering on the college-aged girls doing body shots off each other, all with the loudest music a person had ever heard pumping through the heart of the building, the bass thumping like a giant heavy metal heart.
Indulging in those baser impulses of his made him feel alive, just like racing down the highway with Liona on the back of his bike did. But, priorities were priorities. They turned the corner and he led her down the hallway, back to his bunk. Familiar faces greeted him, clapped him on the back. People from the bar he and the guys frequented, and even the occasional customer from the restaurant.
He pushed the door that led into his bunk, dragged Liona inside, and firmly shut the door behind him. Thanks to the huge amounts of sound proofing he'd installed, the party outside the walls quieted to a dull roar they didn't need to shout over in order to be heard. He tossed his jacket and vest over the seat of his chair and went to his dresser, pulled out his bottle of bourbon.
“Sorry about the party,” he said as he pulled down a shot glass from his shelf. “Didn't even think about it being tonight.” He poured a shot for himself.
She tossed her backpack over in the corner, on top of his coat. “Why be sorry?” she asked as she sidled up next to him and slipped a lithe arm around his waist.
He could already feel the fires building as she touched his body, just like the night before. “Just, the noise and all. You don't seem much like the partying type.”
She reached down and snatched up his shot before he could take it. “What makes you think I'm such a goody two-shoes?” she asked, her lower lip pouting as they locked eyes. She grinned and took the shot, winced and shook her head against the burn.
Cutter laughed. “Kinda what I always liked about you,” he said, taking the glass from her and pouring himself a drink, “that's all.”
“Well,” she said, “what if I told you the best part about all the noise is that it just means no one else can hear us?”
He laughed again, slipping his arm around her waist and pulling her close to him. He tilted her chin up to his, bringing their lips closer together. “Then I'd tell you that you ain't been doing it right all these years.”
Recovered from the kick of the bourbon, she smiled as her lust-filled eyes burned with need. He leaned down as he pulled Liona to him, crushed her lips with his. His kiss was firm, insistent, and she quickly parted her lips for his tongue. The taste of the liquor on her was a strange aphrodisiac, bizarrely stimulating to him.
She pressed her body into his, her breasts flattening against his chest as he gripped her tighter around the waist and let his free hand begin to roam over her firm body. The swell of her hips, the fullness of her breasts. Even though he'd hardly touched them before yesterday, it was like returning to an old, forgotten friend.
“I missed you for all those years,” he growled. “Thought about you every day.”
She smiled a little, kissed him again.
He groaned as she slid her tongue into his mouth, quickly, briefly, before biting his lower lip as she pulled away. His eyes flickered between her lips and her gaze for a moment, then he grabbed her hand and led her over to the bed. “And, now that I've got you here ...” he said as he pulled her along.
Willingly, she let herself be pulled along. “Going to show me how much you missed me?” she asked.
He could feel his excitement growing, straining against his jeans. More than anything, he wanted her writhing beneath his touch, wanted to feel the softness of her skin, and her strong legs wrapped around his back. He turned and kissed her again, this time more forcefully, then pushed her down onto the edge of the bed. “Something like that,” he said.
She reached up, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and pulled his lips down to hers. They kissed again, their hands tearing at each other's clothes. Their breath fast and panting between kisses, and soon she had him stripped
down to just his boxer briefs, and he had her stripped to her bra and panties.
His hands ran over her smooth skin, caressing and kneading her flesh, loving the way she felt beneath them. His lips covered her body, and she arched into his kisses and bites. She purred beneath his attention, pulled him onto his bed as she backed onto it. He crawled onto the bed after her, his hand slipping between her thighs and she spread her legs for him with a whimper, inviting him to move higher. He edged his hand higher, teasing her with his fingertips. Heat was rolling off her, enticing him to go higher and higher, to find her hidden treasure. She bit his lip again, thrust her hips a little to try and encourage his continued climb.
Cutter grinned, loving how responsive she was. He kissed her again as he slipped a hand behind her back and began to unhook her bra. He began to unfasten her piece of lingerie, began to unveil those orbs he'd admired the night before. Suddenly, someone knocked on his door.
