“That’s one mighty fine biker you have there,” her mother noted. “Very protective.”
Squinting through the dusky light, she scrutinized her mother’s expression, then cocked her head in suspicion.
Her mother burst out, “What are you thinking? That I’d hate if you were with a biker? I love the life with all my heart. I wanted the same for you, but you deserved the independence to find your own way. I accepted that you wanted a normal life. Seems like I should have made myself clear.”
“I found my path.” Greta’s lips pursed and her forehead puckered. “At least, I thought I carved out my own path, but that path did not include a biker. Then, Sage had to come and fuck it all up. Hooking up with Kingdom. Dragging me to parties.”
“I don’t see anyone forcing you to do anything,” her mother teased. “You were a tough little thing from the get-go. Had an emergency C-section because you had the umbilical cord twisted around your neck and feet. When the nurse held you in her arms, you belted out so loud at your first breath of life.” Her mom gazed off into the distance. “If you’re here with him, then it’s because it’s where you’re meant to be. Problems have a way of solving themselves because all that matters is you and him.”
“Mom, I’m not saying that this is going to…last.” Okay, that was a big, fat lie, but she was barely handling this conversation as it was.
“You’re young. I was younger than you when I met Scorpion, and I was in far worse shape than you. One good thing came out of that hell and made up for it. You. Walking free on this earth, with your eyes wide open. You’ve seen the worst side of life. I never thought you’d come around, but here you are. At a bike rally,” she motioned to Cutter, “with him. It’s proof that you’ve moved beyond the past.”
Greta’s eyebrows shot up. “Moved beyond the past!” she spluttered. “What the hell are you talking about? I mean, I know you’re happy with Trucker, but be serious.”
“I’m dead serious. Trucker was part of it, but I stayed on my terms. I carved out my place. With him. With the club. With myself. I’ve been praying for years that you’d come to terms with Scorpion.”
Greta’s lips curled back. “That’s never going to happen. Hearing his name makes me sick.”
Her mother’s head snapped back. “Greta!” Her eyes narrowed into slits. “Be sure you work out your issues,” she nodded toward Cutter, “or they will come back and bite you in the ass.”
Her chest rose and fell quickly, and pain hammered her like a thunderclap. Suddenly, a hand was gripping her nape, tilting her over the back of the chair and Cutter’s visage swam before her. Nostrils flaring, Cutter whirled her around so quickly it took her breath away. Hauling her to her feet, he attacked her mouth. Her brain shut down and she met him, thrust for thrust, twining strands of hair between her fists. Whoops and cheers broke out around them.
His hot breath blew across her cheek. “Can’t leave you alone for a damn second.”
Slipping a finger under the metal of her collar, he sat down, pulling her along with him. Her favorite IPA beer sat on the table before her. He hadn’t asked her, but, turns out, he was paying attention. “Drink up. I give your people half an hour. Then we go back to the motel. I’m gonna fuck the pain out of you.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Greta loved spending time with her mother, but her nerves were legitimately fraying. Although she hadn’t verbalized her stress, Cutter decided the time had come to return home. New Hampshire didn’t mandate that bikers wear helmets, so Kingdom was on babysitting duty, making sure the brothers didn’t get themselves killed. Greta would take over the office, giving Sage the chance to join Kingdom, who was about to lose his shit without her.
Cutter stopped at the motel’s front desk to check out and waved her outside with an order to relax and soak in the sun. Lounging on a wooden Adirondack chair on the tiny motel lawn, Greta played with the buckle and metal rings on her thigh harness. Face lifted toward the sun, she absorbed the warm rays and drifted into a drowsy form of contentment. The night before, Cutter had given her a full-body massage before tucking her in early. Said he didn’t want to overtax her. She’d grumbled a bit under her breath until he slipped in beside her, and she got to rub herself against his blissful nakedness. Exhausted, she fell asleep before she could do anything further.
A soft smile played on her lips as a parade of bikers came up the road. Her one last chance to see them en masse. The bright sun shot into her eyes; pinpoints of colors dotted her vision as she squinted at a dark figure at the tail end of the group. He was dressed in black leather from head to toe. Strange gear for such a warm early summer day. His bike helmet, paired with sunglasses and a long, shaggy beard, hid his face.
But when his head swiveled in her direction, a blast of heat charged through Greta, leaving behind a cold, clammy sweat. The stance of his body. The way he rode his bike. They were too familiar. As he passed by, a braid of jet hair draped down the back of his cut. Underneath the balmy sunlight, an icy draft smacked her across the face.
Gripping the wooden arms of the chain, her breath stuttered.
Shadow.
She quickly scooted forward to get a better look and teetered on the edge of her seat. Blinking, she craned her neck, but he was already gone. As she scrambled to her feet, her calves scraped against the wooden slats of the chair and she tumbled back, landing heavily in the seat. Clutching her knees, she sat there, stunned.
No, no, no. Not possible.
Her breath sawed in and out of her lungs, and she screwed her eyes shut. A Dark Horseman would never show up here. Although the similarities were eerie, this man was larger and bulkier. Then again, Shadow would’ve changed, from a sleek nineteen-year-old to a hardened thirty-year-old. Blood drained from her face as the spike of adrenaline rushing through her blood plummeted, leaving her feeling light-headed.
Think. Could it really be him? Scorpion was bold, but even he wouldn’t dare push Shadow into enemy territory. Not his golden boy. Supposing Scorpion had a brother watching her, he wouldn’t choose a man so easily identifiable because not only she but her mother, too, would recognize him immediately. There was also Trucker, his brothers, and other clubs from across the Northeast. With thousands of people at the rally, someone tailing her would have to get close, and even if he continued to wear leather and sunglasses, he couldn’t spend entire days and nights in a helmet. No matter how much he changed, no matter how much he disguised himself, the risk was too great. It couldn’t be him. But, the braid. How many bikers wore braids? She twisted her lips wryly. Well, many, actually.
Hypothetically speaking, if it was Shadow, why now? Not only was she under the protection of the Squad but Scorpion had chosen to leave her alone long ago. There was no good reason to approach her. In addition, why take the risk of antagonizing her mother, because if she got a whiff of the Dark Horsemen, she’d strike them down without mercy.
Just because a random biker reminds me of Shadow doesn’t mean it’s him. Her vision may have been impaired because she’d been far away, and the sun was blinding her. It had been a split second, not long enough to confirm it was him.
Greta cast her gaze up and nearly shrieked. Cutter was standing over her, brows knitted and pulled down. A finger brushed down her cheek and tipped her chin up.
“Something wrong, highness?”
Clasping his wrist, she stroked the pulse point. Batting her eyelashes, she replied, “No, sir.”
His pulse quickened, and a low warning growl originated from the back of his throat. The warm, languid sensation that always surrounded her when she was around Cutter returned and shook off her worries.
“Best behave yourself, or I’ll get our room back and fuck you into oblivion. I’m not riding back to Utica with a hard-on. You, riding with a burning ass and sore pussy behind me, would satisfy me, tho. We clear, girl?”
She sprang out of her chair. He made to catch her, but she slipped past his outstretched fingers and dashed toward the bike. She
was about to swing onto the seat when two solid arms wrapped around her and slammed her against an unyielding chest.
“I’ll always catch you, babe. Never forget that.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Her cell phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Rolling over, she reached across the empty bed and checked her alarm clock. 1:54 a.m. Fumbling with the phone in the pitch-black darkness of her bedroom, she managed to swipe it open and croak out a hello.
Sage’s tense tone came through the speaker. “Cutter’s been arrested.”
She toppled over the edge of the bed and crashed to the floor, facedown. What did she say? No, please, no. Greta had promised herself that she’d never be in on a call like this. Ever. But, here she was, thrown back into a recurring nightmare. A flashback of Shadow’s face, spotted purple and yellow with bruises, swam in front of her vision, blinding her with a surge of rage.
Her cell phone had flown off somewhere. Rubbing her throbbing nose, she wrestled out of the bundled bedsheets wrapped around her ankles and scrambled for the cell. It was by her ear in time to catch the end of Sage’s sentence, “—brothers were celebrating. The ink hadn’t even dried on the contract for the bar. A bunch of steroid-pumped college boys wanted to test their mettle against a crew of bikers. Toxic masculinity at its finest,” she seethed.
He was supposed to be out of town, riding up to Canada. Wiping a sheen of sweat along her hairline with shaking fingers, she asked, “Is he okay?”
“Yes.”
A whoosh of relief swept through her, quickly followed by another burst of fury. “Seriously? Cutter got caught up in that kind of stupid, infantile shit?” It was unlike Cutter, but then again, he could be as ridiculous as any biker when it came to the pride of the club. “Where’s Kingdom? He get arrested as well?”
There was a slight pause. “He was with me.”
“Good to know someone was intelligent enough to stay in bed, instead of gallivanting around like an idiot and getting into pointless fights.”
“Sweetie don’t do this. It could have happened to anyone. You know just as well as I do that if Cutter got involved, something must have gone wrong. He’s not a hothead.”
“Or he doesn’t have the maturity to back down from a challenge, regardless of the consequences. He didn’t need a college course to graduate from Hyper Male Posturing 101.”
A weary sigh came through the phone. “I hear you. Listen, I’ve got more to do on this. The lot of them will stay overnight. At least they’re together,” she muttered. Shuffling of papers crinkled in the background. “Tomorrow, they’ll be arraigned. Will you be there?”
“Of course I’ll be there. I need to make sure he gets out so I can kick his ass. I’ll be wearing my sharpest stilettos for the occasion because if he thinks I’ll put up with this, he’s a purebred idiot.”
※※※
The instant they’d stepped inside her house, Greta stepped into Cutter and wrapped her arms around his neck, breathing in the unique combination of leather and male. Specifically, the male who brought her to her knees with his scent alone. Damn the man. However, this would have to last her a lifetime because she couldn’t continue down this path. She’d gone through this scenario one too many times and was well acquainted with the full extent of its misery. The waiting and fretting. The handwringing while waiting to see your loved ones. The last time Shadow was arrested, she’d sworn to herself that if they got together, they’d transfer to another club. Not only to get away from Scorpion but also because she couldn’t knowingly be part of a criminal enterprise.
Although this arrest was over a simple bar fight, it was a harbinger of things to come. She’d broken lots of promises to herself on behalf of Cutter and been okay with them. Until now. Panic swelled around her throat like a steel band, cinching it tighter and tighter, leaving her short of breath. She couldn’t live through this brand of craziness. Not again.
Cutter cradled her head in his hands, gazed into her eyes for a long moment, and kissed her forehead. “Babe, you were scared.”
Scared didn’t begin to express what she felt. He’d thrown her into a roiling whirlpool of dread and abandoned her to drown in it. Stiffening, she pushed off him and stomped away. Whipping around to face him, she snarled, “You’re. A. Criminal.”
His eyebrows slammed down; expression shuttered. “Watch it.”
Arms straight as planks, hands clenched to her sides, she forged on. “I know too much. I’ve seen too much.” She smacked her thigh with a brutal slap. “It’s etched on my damn body. And you fucking know it better than anyone. The second you put yourself in a position to get arrested, this relationship morphed into a situationship.” Acid flooded her tongue.
“Putting Scorpion aside,” she slashed one hand in the air like a rapier, “I attended funerals of fallen brothers. I heard the whisperings about cigarette burns and saw bashed faces. These were men I loved, fathers and uncles who replaced Scorpion as my father figures. Dammit, I have PTSD over the lives that were lost over a fucking club. How can a sane man be loyal to a twisted organization that demands that they sacrifice life and limb? What happens the day you come home, your body bruised black and blue and your face unrecognizable?”
Cutter reached for her, but she motioned with her outstretched palm for him to stay put.
“How many brothers have been in jail for shit the club has done, Cutter?”
His hand froze midair. “A few,” he answered in a careful monotone.
“How recently?”
“Besides Whistle? A brother in the Poughkeepsie chapter. For a nickel.”
“A nickel. Five years. Five years of his life gone, rotting away in an overcrowded jail in the middle of fucking nowhere.” She heaved out a long sigh. “Will you leave the Squad for me?”
“What? No! How could you ask some shit like that? It was a fucking fight, not a five-year prison sentence. You’re overreacting.”
“Do what you must for the Squad, but I won’t be the one abandoned,” she stabbed her finger toward him, “at your gravesite.” Her voice cracked. “I changed. My new normal was you, but you’ve dragged me back down to zero.”
Her throat clenched up, halting her rant, but it was the unvarnished truth. Born in the club-life, she knew the methods clubs used to earn a living. Still, this was too much. He was hers as much as she was his, and he wasn’t supposed to get harmed. Same as he demanded of her. Either way, she couldn’t do this any longer. Her fears lashed her inside out, flaying her skin. Stampeding like panicked horses, tossing her among their kicking hooves like a rag doll. Shattering her.
Greta opened her mouth to continue, but he stymied her with a scathing expression. Heat flared up the back of her neck. Crossing his arms, he regarded her like a petulant child. Damn him for making her feel stupid.
“Calm the fuck down.”
Her stomach pitched. If she got too bratty, she’d be over his knee in a heartbeat. And if that happened, she’d be lost. This clusterfuck required level headedness. Gritting her teeth, she dug deep to reclaim a modicum of self-restraint.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
His sight zeroed in on her left thigh, the one marked with her Dark Horsemen’s tattoo. He rammed his jaws together, the muscles ticking away.
She’ll mourn me till the last, and she’ll mourn me the most.
Cutter ached to turn away from the pain darkening her eyes. He hadn’t considered what his life might mean to a woman. Greta’s love was undying, unless he was harmed or died. Her flaming spirit would curl up into itself, leaving her to roam the world like a ghost. Tilting his head toward the ceiling, he stifled the roar building in the back of his throat.
“Look, I get it,” he gritted out. “Shit got out of control when those pricks came looking for a fight. It shouldn’t have gone down the way it did. I misjudged the situation, and by the time I got involved, the first punch had already been thrown. After that, it was a free-for-all.”
“Wow. A barstool. I’m speechless,” she snarled.
/>
Christ, Sage had spouted off that the fight started over a dumbass barstool.
“There were only three things I expected from you, Cutter. Don’t fuck with my head, don’t cheat on me, and don’t get arrested. My rule used to be ‘no bikers,’ but I amended it for you, and look where that got me.”
He threw up his hands. “I’m a real fucking biker. Bikers don’t follow laws, and that can get us arrested. For fuck’s sake, one of the founders was named Riker because he and Prez met at Rikers Island, the prison complex down in the city.”
“I know what that is. Yes, bikers get arrested. And hurt. And killed. That doesn’t mean I have to stand around to watch and get my heart ripped out of me.” The eyes to her soul were boarded up like an abandoned steel-mill town. He’d just gotten out of jail and was ready to blow a hole through a fucking cement wall. Normally, he scaled walls and landed smoothly on the other side, as agile as a cat. But he was filthy and tired. He hadn’t expected a welcome-home party, but son of a bitch, he deserved a get-out-of-jail fuck. Instead, she retreated behind a blank wall without a foothold for him to mount.
He cracked his neck from side to side. It wouldn’t be right to coerce her by fucking or dominating her, although he was jonesing to do both. At this point, his best bet was to step away. Give her time to calm down while he figured out how to avoid a repeat. It was his responsibility to protect her properly, including blowback from the brothers and their antics. Damn, he was about to turn into Kingdom, constantly stressed out over Sage’s well-being. Thank fuck they were working hard to turn the Squad. The final piece was about to fall into place with the boxing gym. Afterward, Kingdom would ensure that the remaining holdout of brothers flipped, and the club would be fully legit. Christ, never felt as urgent as it did now, but he wasn’t gonna front and divulge anything to Greta until it was a done deal.
Cutter's Claim: A Bad Boy Biker Romance (The Demon Squad MC Book 2) Page 15
