Cutslut

by Kim Jones

  My lips press together to keep from saying anything. I want to tell her to fuck off, but I hurt her that night. Unlike Red and Dallas’s situation, Delilah’s wasn’t something very many people knew about. Well, at least not the brothers. The whores knew everything—especially about each other. If the men were smart, they wouldn’t let them inside their clubhouse at all.

  For example, Loose-Lipped Lindsay. She was a clubwhore from Lake Charles who moved to Vegas not long ago. Looking to find an easy place to turn tricks, she came to the MC. I quickly befriended her—per Cain’s request so he could gain some more intel on the Devil’s. It’s how I learned that shit about Red and Dallas, too. But what she told me about Delilah was much more disturbing.

  Delilah used to be a pain slut. Believed she deserved to be hurt to pay for her “sins”. She would let her brother beat the hell out of her just to feel some semblance of normalcy. It was some real fucked up shit.

  Then she found Bryce. He helped her in a different way. Gave her pain in a controlled manner by using BDSM tactics. Spanking, orgasm control and all that kink. But mentioning her brother was definitely a trigger. And judging by the way she’s shifting in her seat, it’s one her ass has paid for.

  Guilt is a feeling I’ve learned to ignore in my line of work. But in this moment, I simply can’t ignore it. I shouldn’t have said those things to her. It was wrong. Even if I believed it was better in the end for all of them if they hated me and could somehow help in getting the club to let me go, it was still wrong.

  “I shouldn’t have said that, Delilah,” I tell her, my words sincere. “And I’m sorry that I did.” She nods. Her face relaxing. The anger and sadness fading marginally from her eyes.

  “What the fuck about me?” I shift my attention to Red. “You told everyone I was a heroin addict.”

  “And that I killed people,” Dallas adds on a whisper. I roll my eyes. Like not saying it out loud is going to change anything.

  Reaching for the pack of smokes thrown in the pile in the center of the table, I retrieve them and put a twenty in their place. Lighting one, I inhale deep—blowing the smoke over the top of my head. I hadn’t asked Red if she smoked in her house. Forgiveness over permission and all that….

  “So?” Red prompts. “Are you gonna apologize to us?”

  “For what?”

  Dallas stiffens and speaks through gritted teeth. “For calling us out. For stealing our shit.”

  I point to the money I threw on the table. “I paid you back.”

  There’s a kick under the table. Judging by the eye exchange, it was from Red to Dallas. Subtle. The invite… the scotch… suddenly I have the feeling that I’m being played. And there’s another reason they invited me to sit at the table other than to beat them at poker.

  “Yeah,” Dallas says, her nerves evident in her tone. “You paid back the money. But about what you said...?”

  “What about it?”

  “I know how you can make it up to us.”

  “Who said I wanted to make it up to you?” I counter, tilting my head as I shoot her a challenging look.

  She glances to Red then Delilah before coming back to me. With a deep breath, she admits, “I need something.” And there it is—the real reason I’m here. “And since you’re so good at taking things that aren’t yours, I thought maybe you could help.”

  “No.” My quick answer confuses them. I don’t elaborate, I just smoke and drink and wonder if we’re ever going to play cards because I really could use that extra cash.

  “I’m asking you nicely.”

  I smile at Dallas. “And I’m nicely telling you no.”

  The silence is thick. Tension palpable. Who the fuck do these girls think they’re messing with? I’m not your average whore. I’m not easily intimidated by ol’ ladies or pretend to be nice to them in hopes of one day earning their respect. I don’t need their approval. Have no desire to be one of them. So if they want my help, they’ll need a damn good reason. And I need to be in a great fucking mood. Which I’m not.

  “You’re not the only one who did your research, you know.”

  My glass stills on my lips as I look over the rim to a smirking Delilah. She might’ve appreciated my apology, but this girl lives by the “Eye for an Eye” code. And she’s hungry for her revenge.

  “Is that so?” I ask flatly.

  Her pretty head nods. “What I don’t know is if, like me, you’re a pain slut, or if he beat you regularly for a different reason.”

  I have to fight to contain my laughter. So she thinks she’s got me with that? I’m property of the infamous Cain Malcovich—known for his evil temper and demonic way of life. Slapping his bitch around wasn’t some new-found knowledge. Everyone is aware of my abuse. Maybe not the extent of it, but they know he put his hands on me.

  “Maybe it’s a little of both,” I offer, flashing her an easy smile. “We all have our own way of dealing with shit life gives us. Right?” I don’t push further, but if she doesn’t drop this shit, I have no problem hurting her feelings again.

  Leaning forward, Delilah rests her elbows on the table and clasps her hands. Her cold eyes meeting mine. “I’m gonna grant you a courtesy you never offered me.” She motions to Red and Dallas who are watching me closely—confusion marring their faces. “Some things they know. But they don’t have any inkling about the real shit.”

  She knows about the tattoo.

  I still. Fuck. What else does she know?

  “Are you blackmailing me, Delilah?” I ask, hoping my calm expression and cool attitude are convincing.

  “I don’t like that particular word, but yes.” She nods once. “Help Dallas, or I’ll tell everything I know. Not just to the people in this room, but to the entire club. I won’t hesitate to do to you what you so easily done to me.”

  I take a sip of scotch. Light another smoke. This little bitch is something else. I’m not sure of all she knows or if she has it in her to actually out me. Beneath her hard exterior is still that lost, conflicted girl who’s a victim to the darkness. But whatever Dallas wants from me can’t be extreme enough to make it worth the gamble.

  “What do you want?” I ask Dallas—keeping my eyes on Delilah. She sags in relief a little at my question. I almost smirk. She wouldn’t tell on me. Sluts before cuts. She might wear that ol lady patch now, but she’ll never forget where she came from.

  “I need Luke’s book from inside his cut.”

  My head jerks to Dallas. “What?”

  “Luke’s book,” she repeats. “I need you to get it for me. Tonight.”

  I breath out a humorless laugh. This ol’ lady was asking me to steal the book. The one that held contact information to every ally and enemy, known and unknown the club had. Every MC president had one. And they guarded it with their life.

  “Wow,” I mutter, shaking my head at Dallas in disbelief. “You really think I’m that stupid?”

  “If anyone can get it, you can.”

  “Cut the shit, Dallas.” She draws back at the aggression in my tone. “That book is as classified as the Daily-fucking-Brief. So what could you, an ol’ lady, possibly want with it? And why the hell would you want someone like me…your husband’s enemy’s cutslut, who’s been eighty-sixed from this club, to get it?”

  Without meeting my eyes, she says, “I just need it. It’s important.”

  I smirk. “You’re gonna have to do better than that, sugar. Cause it sounds to me like you’re setting me up for a trap.”

  “It’s not a trap,” Red snaps. Slowly, I turn my attention to her. “We need some answers about a situation one of our sisters is involved in. There’s only one person who can give us those answers and the only known contact information for him is in that book.”

  Confused, I ask the obvious question. “Why not just ask Luke? If she’s your sister she’s his. And judging by my own personal experience, the bastard loves getting into other people’s shit.”

  “Because the situation is sensitive. She wants
to handle it herself.” Red levels me with a look. “You seem like the type of girl who can appreciate that.”

  She’s right. I am. Whoever this sister is, I understand her wanting to handle this on her own. If Luke got involved, it would no doubt turn into a club issue. They always do shit in an extreme manner—taking something simple and blowing it out of proportion just to show their strength. To prove they can.

  What they’re asking me to do can be done, but if I’m caught, the blowback will be detrimental. Pierce… Jinx… they’ll lose their minds over this. Pierce will hate me even more than he already does and Jinx…well…Jinx won’t like me anymore.

  My stomach tightens in fear at the thought and I meet Dallas’s eyes—ready to tell her no. That she’ll have to find another way. But upon seeing my expression, she visibly slumps. The light leaves her eyes. Blood drains from her face. I owe her nothing, but I find that I’m affected by her reaction.

  “This sister…” I start, my voice low. “Who is she?”

  Dallas is quiet a moment before admitting, “Maddie. She’s not just my club sister. She’s blood.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “Away.” The way she says it tells me I won’t be getting any more than that.

  Before I can think better of it, I’m speaking. “Okay.” Hope blossoms on her face. I hold my hand up. “But I’m gonna need some help. And you’re not gonna like it.”

  “Anything. I’ll do anything,” she quickly adds. Damn… this really is important to her.

  “Good.” Draining my glass, I try to mentally prepare for what’s about to go down. “Cause you’re the bait.”

  Everyone is packed inside the small, busy kitchen waiting for food. Pouring drinks. Talking. Laughing. Paying little attention to me as I scan every single body and prepare for the mother of all thefts. The best part? I’m not even going to steal Luke’s book. He’s going to give it to me. Well, to Red anyway.

  Dallas, Red and Delilah have no idea what I’m about to do. When they asked about the plan, I just told them they’d figure it out. That didn’t sit well with them, but they agreed. It was for the best and so far, things are working in my favor. As long as I stay away from Jinx.

  He’s been suspicious of me since I came down the stairs. When he asked how it went and I replied, “Great,” he shot me an inquisitive look. When I told him I was going to help the bitches in the kitchen, he pierced me with a questioning gaze. And when I tried to walk away from him, he caught my elbow and gave me a low warning. “Whatever you’re doing… don’t.”

  Yeah, yeah, yeah… save it for someone who listens.

  We’re standing in a near perfect line getting food. Dallas stands in front of me. Luke in front of her. Red directly to our left. Delilah to her right. Jinx is toward the very back of the line but I swear I can feel him watching my every fucking move. Knowing I need to act before he gets even more suspicious, I decide it’s time to set things in motion.

  Shoving Dallas hard, she crashes into Luke’s back—the contents of her full plate smears onto Luke’s cut just before it falls to the floor and shatters. Sticky yams and buttery corn drip from the reaper on his back. He immediately pulls his cut off and brings it around to look at the damage. But when he catches Dallas glaring at me, her confusion mixed with anger, he quickly passes it off to Red and turns to us.

  Perfect.

  “You didn’t think I’d actually help you, did you?” I taunt, my voice cold. Her cheeks redden as confusion dissipates and her temper flares. “Aww…” I shoot her a mock frown. “You did.”

  “You bitch,” she hisses, taking a step closer to me. She cranes her neck to meet my gaze. My body tightens in preparation for her words. Fists clench. Adrenaline pumps. She’s going to try to say something to hurt me. And I’m ready.

  Then a fleeting look of recognition flashes in her eyes. It’s quickly followed by an evil glare and a sinister smile. Before I know what’s happened, she flattens her tiny palms to my chest and shoves me hard. I’m still finding my footing when my vision clouds with black just as a sharp pain rockets through my head.

  She hit me.

  The little bitch hit me.

  Punched me right in the fucking eye.

  I’m so shocked by her surprise attack, all I can do is hold the side of my face in my hand and stare at her.

  “That,” she says, breathless and panting—more from the rush of adrenaline than anything as she points her finger at me, “Is for talking shit about my sisters.”

  The room is completely silent.

  Every eye on us.

  Jinx to my left ready to intervene.

  Luke next to him—cock rock hard.

  Dallas tilts her head to the side and shoots me a look. Silently asking me if we’re good.

  I don’t give a fuck if I hurt her feelings when I called her out. I don’t care if she hates me. But she didn’t hit me because of what I did to her. She hit me because of the pain I caused her sisters. I’ve got to give props to the bitch for that.

  Smirking, I give her a single nod. Then I walk through the crowd of people to the freezer, take my time grabbing a bag of frozen peas, then make my way to the porch—tucking the bottle of scotch I’d brought from upstairs under my arm.

  Dallas and I aren’t friends.

  We’re not family.

  I’m still a cutslut.

  She’s still an ol’ lady.

  But if my brother ever taught me anything, it’s this—respect is earned.

  And Dallas Carmical had most definitely earned mine.

  38

  JINX

  She did something.

  I fucking know it.

  The diversion. The fight. Her not ripping Dallas’s head off after she hit her. Not to mention she’s been smiling to herself the entire ride home. Yeah… something’s up. I knew it the moment she looked focused and conniving instead of pissed off and annoyed when she walked in that kitchen.

  “What did you do?” I ask, my eyes leaving the road to watch her. But she never meets my gaze.

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Her shoulders rise in an indifferent shrug. “You were there. Watching me like a hawk. If I’d had done something, you’d have seen it.”

  She’s right. I need to think outside the box on this one. She knew I’d be watching. Knew she couldn’t get away with doing anything herself. Which means…

  Slamming on breaks, I jerk the car to the side of the road. She grabs the dash and shoots me a furious look. “What the—“

  “Luke’s book,” I snap, cutting her off. “Where is it?”

  “How the hell am I supposed to know?” She looks genuinely confused. But beyond the act, the bewildered facial expression, the wide eyes, there’s a hint of panic. Anyone else would miss it. I don’t miss anything.

  “You’ve got one chance to come clean. If you don’t, I’m calling Luke. And so help me Winter, there’ll be hell to pay if you’re lying to me.”

  Stiffening, she narrows her eyes at me. “Like I said, I don’t know where his book is.”

  I can’t save her once I call him. But she’s not budging. She’s acting like she doesn’t even know what the book is. And she’s fucking lying. Some things I can keep my mouth shut about. This isn’t one of those things. That book is like the holy grail. If she has it, or information from it, she could hurt the club. I can’t let that happen.

  Dialing Luke’s number, I give her one last look of warning. She rolls her eyes and leans back in the seat—sealing her fate. Hitting send, I wait for Luke to answer. Tension mounting as it rings. My anxiety heightening.

  “Yeah?” Fuck… he answered.

  “Check your pockets,” I growl, my eyes on Winter who crosses her arms and lifts a brow at me.

  “What?”

  “Your fuckin’ pockets, Luke. You missin’ anything?” I hold my breath as I wait for him to check. With every sound of movement, my heart beats heavier.

  There’s a
pause and then, “That bitch!” Luke’s roar echoes through the speakers in the car.

  Unable to stop myself, I reach out and fist her sweater in my hand, pulling her halfway across the console until we’re face to face. She lifts her hands in surrender, that fucking smirk still on her lips.

  “Where… is… it…” I snarl, my teeth clenched. Jaw tight. Rage evident.

  “It’s in the freezer,” she says on a grin.

  “Check the freezer.”

  “I fuckin’ heard her,” Luke snaps.

  She’s beaming now. Holding in a laugh. Not at all affected by my anger. My lethal fucking glare. The sound of Luke’s heavy footsteps as they stomp through the house—pounding loud enough to rattle the windows in my car.

  He opens the freezer.

  Mutters, “Thieving little shit.”

  Slams it shut.

  “It’s here. So is the Prospect’s.”

  I frown, confusion trumping my anger. The Prospect didn’t have a book. “What?”

  “How the fuck did she do that without me noticing? And when was she around the Prospect?” Luke asks, more amused than angry. “You got yours?”

  “What the hell are you—“

  “Don’t worry, baby,” Winter whispers, reaching down in her boot and pulling out my wallet. “I got it.”

  Luke’s mumbling something about how all his shit seems to be there. I’m not really listening anymore. I just hang up and stare at her. Realizing I still have her shirt fisted in my hand, I release it and she slides back into her seat.

  “No need to apologize for overreacting,” she says, opening my wallet and pulling out a hundred-dollar bill. “This will suffice.” Stuffing it in her bra, she shoots me a smile. “You good now? Or should I expect a spanking when we get home?”

  I nearly lost my shit on her. I thought she stole something much more precious than a goddamn wallet. I was so confident, I’d grabbed her. Put my hands on her in a way no man should ever touch a woman. She’s not hurt, but it doesn’t make me feel any less of an asshole.

  But I’m not the kind of guy who apologizes. I’m also not the kind who spanks women. Now I’m thinking that maybe I want to be that guy. So as I pull on the highway, I decide I will apologize to her—after I spank her ass and make her come so hard she loses consciousness…just as I say the words.