Cutslut

by Kim Jones

  “I d-don’t want to see them t-tonight,” I stammer, the moment Jinx is in the driver’s seat. “Can we g-go somewhere else? A motel?”

  “Already handled, babe,” he says, rubbing his warm hand up and down my thigh as he drives us away from the club. From the party. From the girl’s. From Pierce’s words…. All because he looked at me and knew I needed to leave.

  He’s my dream guy. Or at least he’s acted a lot like him over these past few weeks. I doubt he has a moped, but I’ve never seen him ride a Harley. He’s proven he’s different which also makes him special. He doesn’t always wear black. He holds my hand. Kisses my fingers mindlessly. My lips passionately. Everywhere else heatedly.

  I’ve watched the sunset with him. Watched the sunrise. We’ve laughed. We’ve drank. We’ve danced to “Josephine”. I sit beside him. Walk beside him. Lay beside him. Fall asleep in his arms. He listens when I speak. He’s never called me stupid. Never told me I was less.

  I never thought moments like this would happen to me. Yet they already have. I never thought my dream guy existed. I was sure my fantasy was only a fairytale. That I could never love again. Especially not a man who wore a patch. Now…I’m not so sure.

  40

  JINX

  One fucking look.

  All it took was one look in those mesmerizing green eyes of hers and I knew something was wrong. I didn’t know the reasons. I didn’t care. All I knew was I had to get her out of there. So I did.

  I didn’t care that Luke needed me. That my brothers were depending on me. That walking out with her forced me to go back on my word that I’d be there—hell or high water. But I didn’t factor in Winter. I didn’t plan to see her like that—broken. Gutted. Looking completely normal to everyone else. Yet utterly devastated to me.

  Whoever hurt her or whatever happened to her, happened in that bar. With my club. And that thought shook me to my fucking core. So I took her away. Booked us a room. Carried her unconscious body inside. Stripped her down. Laid her next to me. Knew it was the right thing to do. Thought it would be over by morning. Forgotten once she woke up. But before the night ended, she unveiled the secrets to her misery. And her truth had me questioning not only my brother, but my patch.

  “Why does he hate me?” she’d cried. In her sleep. In my fucking arms. There’s never been a question I didn’t have the answer to until that moment.

  It took little coaxing to get Luke to find out from his ol’ lady what had happened in the moments right before we left. He was eager to find out himself. So he questioned his wife. His VP’s wife. What he found upset him. And set my motherfucking blood to boil.

  I’d heard Pierce say plenty of nasty shit about Winter. I’d said my fair share about her too. But seeing how it broke her…watching her crumble like that… it did something to me. I’m still reeling from it—five days later.

  I still haven’t called Pierce—afraid of what I might say. Winter has yet to bring it up—afraid of reliving it, I assume. At first, I thought maybe she didn’t remember. But that was only false hope. She remembers everything. And it’s changed her. She’s different. Distant. It’s not like it was between us. I hate that more than I should.

  For the first time ever, I’m considering breaking my bi-laws. Find myself wanting to do everything in my goddamn power to give this woman some semblance of peace in her life—this woman who has been labeled an enemy. A woman I should hate. Refuse to help. Keep for a few more days, take back what she stole from me and walk the fuck away. Problem is, I’m on her side.

  That’s why I’m taking her home.

  To Cumming, Georgia.

  To meet my family.

  My parents.

  My brothers.

  One minute we were sitting on the couch, the next I was asking her to spend the weekend with me at my parents’ place. She didn’t ask why. She didn’t complain. I think she was too numb in that moment to really feel anything. But I was giddy for some damn reason.

  I’ve got to be out of my motherfucking head.

  Or at least I keep trying to convince myself I am. Truth is, I’m not anxious about them meeting. I’m not nervous about what she’ll think of my family or what they’ll think of her. I want her with me. On my arm when we walk in. Next to me at my parent’s dining table. In my old bedroom. In my fucking bed.

  I look over at her sleeping soundly in the seat next to me. She’s a beautiful sight. Hair styled messy on her head. Pink lips. Leather jacket. Tight jeans. Barefoot with her feet on my dash. Knees pulled up. Her body curled and turned to face me.

  Unable to resist, I reach out and take her hand that’s laying limply across her stomach. Her skin feels smooth beneath the pad of my thumb as I stroke her knuckles. I press the tips of my fingers into her palm and she instinctively curls her tiny hand around them.

  I’m thinking shit. Shit I don’t need to be thinking. And I’m more than relieved when the sound of a phone ringing echoes through the speakers. Pierce’s name flashes on the screen in my dash and I press the button on the wheel to answer. Knowing if anyone can shake these feelings and thoughts from me, it’s Winter’s brother.

  “Hang on,” I say in greeting, pulling my hand from Winter’s so I can take the call on my cell. She catches my wrist. Intertwines her fingers with mine and shakes her head. Her sleepy eyes dancing from the screen to me. “Yeah?”

  “Where the fuck are you?” Pierce’s tone pisses me off. He’s not my fucking keeper. He’s not Winter’s either. But you can’t tell him that.

  Reigning in my temper, I force my eyes to the road. “I’m twenty miles south of Cumming.” I can feel Winter’s smile.

  “Well, we’re four days from sealing the deal on this shit. So she’s definitely going to have it in her head to run. You watch her, Jinx. Don’t let her out of your fucking sight.”

  “She’s sitting right here, you know,” Winter says, her eyes closed when I look at her. I’m not sure if it’s to hide emotion or if she’s so used to being spoken about, that she’s bored with it.

  There’s a long pause from Pierce then a clipped, “Winter.”

  “What’s the matter, Pierce? You act like you’re afraid to talk to me now. Hell, you had plenty to say when you gagged me and threw me on a plane eight weeks ago.” The smirk on her face doesn’t hide the sadness in her eyes.

  “Well… sweet pea… I wouldn’t have talked to you at all if two years ago, you would’ve kept your sticky fucking fingers to yourself and out of my safe,” he says, his malice palpable. He sounds nothing like the desperate man who called me on the airplane. Not that I figured he would. He’s too fucking stubborn and prideful to show any weakness toward her. And she’s the same damn way when it comes to him.

  “Don’t worry, brother,” she snaps, her eyes narrowing as she stares at the screen as if she’s looking right at him. “You’ll get your fucking money. Then you won’t have to worry about ever seeing me again.”

  “Thank fuck for that… Jinx,” he growls my name. “Watch her.”

  The line goes dead and we’re both silent. Both of us lost in our own thoughts. Her looking out the window. Me staring at the road trying to keep from looking at her. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her chest rising and falling as she tries to calm down. When she drags in a deep, staccato breath, I know the emotion she’s trying to control is not just anger.

  I think back to the shit Luke told me the girls said to her. Then back further to when Winter told me about how Pierce’s words had cut her the day he took her. How they’d scarred her. How a life with Cain wasn’t nearly as hurtful as what Pierce had said.

  Club creed has always been that your brother is always right. Even when he’s wrong, he’s right. But not this time. I can’t side with him on this. He’s hurting her. And I don’t fucking like it.

  I don’t care if she deserves it. If she gives it back tenfold. He’s a man before he’s anything. Her brother above everything. It’s his place to make this right. Reel in whatever shit he’s dealing
with and fix what’s fucked up between them. To hell with pride. It doesn’t have a place in the club, so why the fuck should it play a part in their relationship?

  41

  WINTER

  “My baby!”

  I lift a brow at Jinx who rolls his eyes at me over his mother’s shoulder. Her arms are locked around his neck. His big body bent slightly so she can reach him. With one arm around her waist, he grips the handle of our small suitcase with the other hand. When she doesn’t let go, he gives in and releases it to wrap his other arm around her. Even though he acts annoyed, I can see he’s enjoying this.

  “Momma… I want you to meet someone.” That snaps her out of whatever spell she’s under and she quickly releases him to turn to me.

  She’s a tiny thing. The top of her head barely meeting the center of Jinx’s chest. Her brown eyes are warm with small wrinkles in the corners. She pulls off her gardening gloves then adjusts the crooked sun hat on her head—revealing light brown hair that’s streaked in silver.

  “Well I’ll be damned,” she says, her disbelief evident as she looks me up and down as if I’m not real. “It’s a girl.”

  “For fuck’s sake Momma, you make it sound like I’m queer or something.”

  “For fuck’s sake Jinx, it’s the first time you’ve brought one home since high school.” I’m shocked at her language that sounds even more foreign because it’s said in such a sweet, southern tone. But strangely, I like her a little more because of it.

  Since Jinx told me he was taking me to meet his family, I’ve been a nervous wreck. I’d tried to refuse, but he wouldn’t allow it. He pulled the whole, “I miss my family,” card on me and I caved. I’d give anything to see my parents again. I wouldn’t deny him that right, either. Besides, sitting around the clubhouse being depressed wasn’t really all that great.

  But I don’t do… family. Especially southern ones who live in the Bible belt and say words like darlin’ and bless your heart. But his mom? Yeah, she doesn’t seem like one of those backsliding Christians who will damn me to hell for having tattoos. Actually, she seems pretty awesome.

  “Hi,” I say, finding my voice and extending my hand—because that’s what they do in the south, right? “I’m Winter.”

  She takes my hand, shaking it slowly. “Winter… what a lovely name.” With a genuine smile on her lips, she pulls me to her chest in a warm embrace. My eyes widen at Jinx who’s fighting a smile. Not wanting to be rude, I pat the center of her back awkwardly.

  “I’m Lynn,” she says, pulling back and holding me at arm’s length as she surveys me once again. “You’re beautiful. And tall. And Jinxton is going to have his hands full keeping Clayton and Payton away from you.”

  “Clayton and Payton?”

  “His younger brothers. They’re inside. Come on, I’ll introduce you.” Looping her arm through mine, she practically drags me through the door. I look back at Jinx who follows behind us.

  “I’m gonna take this up. I’ll be back in a few,” he says, ignoring my pleading look as he turns to go up the stairs—leaving me alone with his mother who steers me in the opposite direction.

  The house is like a step back into the seventies. All wood paneling and shag carpet. Outdated furniture and boxed T.V. Framed pictures of her boys covering every wall in the living room—ranging from toddler age to college. It smells like cookies and feels warm and cozy. It’s the kind of place that makes you want to take your shoes off and curl up on the couch.

  We step into the kitchen and she releases my arm. I’m surprised to find that the kitchen still has all the original appliances. I mean, it must. Unless they still make olive green stoves, refrigerators and sinks.

  “Babe!” Lynn yells, running around the kitchen opening cabinets and drawers. “Jinxton’s here! Got a girl with him!”

  “Shut the fuck up!” I whip my head around in search of the deep, thunderous voice that echoes from another room. But the kitchen is closed off and I can’t see anyone through the open door aside from a dining room.

  Then a glass is thrust in my hand, I’m all but shoved onto a barstool and I look down at the counter to find a perfectly arranged plate of sweets and snacks sitting in front of me.

  I give a beaming Lynn a nervous smile. “Thanks,” I say, lifting the Mason jar in my hand. I look down and guess it’s sweet tea. Taking a tentative sip, I nearly moan and gulp down half the glass.

  “Good, huh?” she asks, nodding knowingly.

  “Yes. Delicious.”

  “Damn, it really is a girl.” The room seems to shrink in size as a man who looks like an older version of Jinx strides through the door. He moves to the sink to wash his hands—his look as disbelieving as Lynn’s and his eyes the same shade of gray as Jinx’s.

  Heavy footsteps sound above me. I look up but the sound has moved to the stairs. Seconds later, I feel a presence behind me.

  “Who the fuck is this good lookin’ thang?” I turn toward the voice of the young guy with the body of an athlete who slides up next to me. Falling down on a stool and leaning heavily on the counter, he eyes me with appreciation. Those eyes. Same color as Jinx and his dad. But his hair is blonde. Messy. Lips in a wide, lopsided grin revealing dimples. He’s like Barbie Ken.

  “This is Winter,” Lynn offers. “Jinxton brought her.”

  “Our Jinx? Brought a fuckin’ girl?”

  Lifting my chin, I meet another set of grey eyes on my left. Then I look back at the guy on my right. Then back up. The one standing winks. “We’re twins.” Yes. They’re identical twins, obviously. I don’t know how anyone could tell them apart.

  “Y’all are going to scare her half to fuckin’ death,” the dad says, leaning across the counter to offer me his hand. “I’m Lyle.” My trembling hand reveals my nerves as I place it in his huge, calloused one. His warm smile relaxes me a little. “Don’t be nervous, Winter. You came with the only one who bites.”

  Winking, he backs away to stand next to Lynn who is leaning against the refrigerator watching me. Her smile wide. She’s so happy. There’s a softness in her eyes that makes me feel uncomfortable. She thinks we’re together. As much as I don’t want to hurt her, I don’t want her to get the wrong idea either. I start to tell her Jinx and I are just friends, but the smoldering, gray-eyed twins have moved in closer.

  “I’m Clayton,” the one on the left says, reaching around me to grab something from the plate. He points to the guy on my right. “That’s Payton.” I nod at Payton and give him a small wave. His eyes drop to my lips and he licks his.

  “You can tell us apart by our hair,” Clayton says, demanding my attention again. I’m quick to look back at him and away from the lip licking little devil on my right. “Mine’s shaved on the sides.” He smooths his hand over his short hair above his ear. “Payton’s ain’t.”

  “Nice to meet you.” I glance around the room in hopes of finding Jinx. Where the hell is he? “All of you,” I add, nodding to his parents. “I guess by now you know, I’m Winter.”

  “You should be Summer,” Payton says, shamelessly eyeing my cleavage. “Cause you hot as fuck.”

  “Payton Murphy Charleston Marks!” Lynn snaps, her tone icy and filled with warning.

  Payton’s eyes lazily lift to mine. “Sorry, Momma,” he says, then mouths to me, “No I’m not.”

  “I told you idiots to stay the hell out of the kitchen.” My body tingles. Heat engulfs me. Just at the sound of his voice. Familiar to his brother’s and father’s voice, yet distinctively different.

  Lyle is attractive for an older man. Clayton and Payton are cute—sexy even. But none of them hold a candle to Jinx. He’s so male. So masculine. So commanding. He has that hint of danger about him. That aura of power. Although none of the guys seem to be lacking in confidence, Jinx exudes it in a way that isn’t cocky, but more predatory.

  I watch as he embraces his father. Smiles tenderly at his mother. Glares at his brothers. Finds me and winks. I’m an instant pool of lava. “Move,” he growl
s, elbowing Clayton away from me and dismissing Payton with a look before claiming his seat. “Like a bunch of goddamn vultures.”

  “Hey!” Lynn yells. “Watch your mouth! We don’t say the Lord’s name in vain in this house. You fucking know better.”

  These people sure do love the word fuck.

  Obviously reading my mind, Jinx smirks at me and mutters, “Sorry, Momma.” What is it about this man calling his mother, Momma, that makes my heart melt?

  “Come on, boys,” Lyle says, herding the two horny toads out of the kitchen. “Let’s give them some space.” He glances back over his shoulder at Lynn who hasn’t moved. “You too, wife. Quit picturing grandkids and come on.”

  She follows dutifully as does the twins and soon it’s just me and Jinx. Staring at each other. Kind of smiling. Kind of processing.

  “My family is a little crazy. My mom’s an over eager hopeless romantic. My dad’s a deacon of the church. My brothers are obsessed with pussy and they all think the word fuck is lucky. Draft’s six months away and they believe if they say fuck and pray enough, the twins will get picked.”

  It’s the most ridiculously awesome thing I’ve ever heard. “What do you think… Jinxton?”

  “About what? Them getting drafted or fuck being a lucky word?”

  I grin. “Both.”

  “They’ll get drafted. Not for any other reason than they’re just that damn good.”

  “And the luck?”

  He shrugs. “I think if something good happens, they’ll believe it was all their cussing and praying. And if something good doesn’t happen, then they’ll just cuss more and pray harder.”

  “Why do they think that’s lucky?”

  “It started with my mom. My entire life I’d never heard her cuss. She swears she never had before she was at a game last season. It was a college football game and they were losing so the word was said by people around her on every breath. It was in her head. Last play of the game, she spilled coffee down her shirt, yelled out ‘fuck’ at the same time Clayton caught an interception and ran it back seventy yards to win the game.”