Cutslut

by Kim Jones

  “Winter, please.” Pierce is suddenly behind me, his hand wrapping around my wrist. I don’t fight him. I don’t think I have the energy or the will. “I know I pushed you away.” I stiffen in disbelief at his admission. “I have a problem with control. I need it. My brain doesn’t function right without it. I never meant to hurt you or stop you from living your life. But I did. And I’m sorry.”

  I turn to face him. For the first time in my life, I see my strong, powerful brother completely trounced. It’s heart-wrenching. Guts me. I hate seeing him like this. I want Devil’s Renegades Pierce back. Not this defeated man in front of me.

  “We should go,” I whisper, unable to look at him another moment.

  I pull out of his grasp and he easily releases me. I find Jinx standing by the door, his brows drawn tight over his gray eyes. Confused. Angry. Sympathetic. I avert my gaze and stride through the door, knowing the shit I’m feeling is only the start of what I’ll experience today.

  Outside, the Devil’s Renegades Hattiesburg chapter sits patiently on their bikes. Black full-face helmets hide their identities. But I recognize Luke by his President patch proudly displayed on the front of his cut. He lifts his chin at me. I offer him a small wave—noticing the flat-black, monster of a machine next to him. The seat is empty and immediately I know who it belongs to.

  I stop at Pierce’s SUV and watch as Jinx strides purposefully across the sidewalk to his bike. He’s in full leathers. His helmet already on but his visor up so I can see his eyes. After straddling the seat, he meets my gaze while he pulls on his gloves. My lips twitch. When he gives me the finger, my face breaks into a smile.

  I guess he really is a biker….

  Pierce clears his throat and I notice he’s holding the door open for me. I duck around him and slide inside—too busy watching Jinx in all of his leathered-up glory to care that my brother is strapping me in like I’m a child—another one of his weird, overprotective measures. As if I’m too stupid to buckle my own damn seatbelt.

  The windows shake with vibrations as the Harleys rumble to life. A surge of excitement sweeps through me. It quickly dies when I realize I won’t ever feel the wind in my hair or my body pressed against Jinx’s from the back of his bike.

  With a wink, he closes the visor on his helmet and gracefully guides the massive machine in line with the others. Pierce and I pull out behind them—passing several more who wait for us before falling in line.

  The car is silent. Both Pierce and I lost in our thoughts. Outside, the bike escort is loud. Yet somehow, soothing. But the moment we arrive, my nerves start to get the best of me. I manage to play it cool as Pierce leads me inside. I ignore Jinx and his inquisitive look as he follows in behind us—leaving the rest of the guys in the parking lot scanning the surroundings for threats from Cain.

  This small law firm we’re at isn’t the same one we’ve done business with in the past. But money talks. And with the right amount of cash, you can get just about anything. Like the most prestigious attorney on the West Coast to fly nineteen hundred miles just for you to sign some fucking papers.

  Pierce has that kind of cash. And he’s arrogant enough to use it. Which is why I have to stifle my grin when he all but growls at the young woman shuffling papers around on a desk.

  “Where’s Clinton?” Pierce barks.

  “Mr. Clinton had a family emergency to deal with, so he won’t be here today,” she says, not bothering to look up. That only pisses Pierce off more.

  “Then who the fuck did I pay fifteen thousand dollars to have flown in here?”

  “That would be me, Mr. Tews.” She looks up and stills. I nearly roll my eyes at the look on her face as she blinks furiously to make sure Pierce is actually real.

  “And you are?” he asks, his tone curt. His hand gesturing impatiently for her to continue.

  “Gianna. Gianna Marcel.”

  “Are you a secretary, Mrs. Marcel?”

  She bristles at his comment. Her pretty lips pinching together. “I’m an attorney, Mr. Tews. And it’s Miss Marcel.”

  Pierce clears his throat. “My apologies, Miss Marcel. I assume you will be handling everything today?”

  “That is correct. But first, I need to speak to Miss Tews alone.”

  I start to follow her out but Pierce stops me with his hand on my elbow. Eyes narrowed, he shoots Gianna a suspicious look. “For what?”

  “With all due respect, Mr. Tews,” she starts, removing her glasses and squaring her shoulders. “That’s none of your business. Winter is the client here. Her name is the only name on this account, yet you are the one calling our office and making all the demands. I’m not sure of your relationship with Clinton, nor do I care. But today, Winter is my client and I’d like a moment to speak with her alone about her trust and the arrangements that have been made. So if you will excuse us.”

  She steps around him and opens the door. I give a very pissed off Pierce a smirk, ignore Jinx once again, and follow her out.

  As we walk down the long corridor toward another private office, I feel dread deep in the pit of my belly. My palms are suddenly sweaty. My pulse racing. Every hair on my body prickles.

  He’s here.

  The realization comes too late. Gianna has opened the door to my doom. She leans in and whispers something to me about being back in a few minutes. Her voice sounds far off—distant. But the click of the door behind her sounds so loud, I flinch.

  Then I’m alone. With him. Standing face to face with my own personal hell. Watching as the Devil himself slowly stalks toward me. Disguised in a suit. Boasting a charming smile. Sporting a recent haircut and a clean shaven face. But there’s still a wicked sparkle in those ice-blue eyes.

  He stops in front of me. The scent of him fills my nostrils. Many women would find the aroma of his designer cologne delicious—intoxicating. I find it repulsive. It doesn’t smell like the woodsy, marine fragrance that it would on anyone else. It smells like pain. Hate. Power. Evil.

  I shiver when he slides his hand up my arm. Not from desire or the drop in temperature that results from his presence, but out of pure fear. He continues until his hand is possessively wrapped around my throat—tight enough to press down on my windpipe. But loose enough for me to still breathe and speak.

  His lips are on mine—punishing and harsh. I don’t kiss him back, but I don’t pull away. When he growls in warning, I open my mouth to him. Let him claim me. I try to ignore the nausea. Push back the fear. Because I know this kiss. It’s not a kiss of love. A kiss that says he misses me. No—this, is a promise.

  He finally pulls away leaving both of us a little breathless. He wears a sneer on his face as he glares down at me—obviously pissed. “Who do you belong to, cutslut?”

  A stronger woman would tell him to go to hell. A weaker one would scream for help. I’m neither. I’m numb. I effortlessly slip back into my role as his property. Because I made a decision before I got here. A selfless one. Stupid, but selfless.

  So without further hesitation, I look up at him and say, “You, Cain. I belong to you.”

  When Gianna walks back into the room a few minutes later, Cain immediately releases me. He shoots her a charming smile before pulling out his cell and walking across the room to make a call.

  I quickly straighten my clothes and look like I have my shit together when I turn to face her. But inside, I’m screaming.

  Screaming at Cain for years of misery.

  At Gianna for leaving me alone with him.

  Pierce for pushing me away all those years ago.

  Jinx for making me fall in love with him, which makes this moment that much harder.

  “Winter?”

  I snap my head up to see Gianna frowning at me—the papers she’s organizing on the desk forgotten as her eyes flit from me to Cain. He’s standing next to the window. Watching me. His phone still attached to his ear.

  Swallowing hard, I force a smile and meet Gianna’s wide, worried eyes. Maybe I don’t look like I have my
shit together after all. “Sorry…long day.” I glance down at the papers and pick up a pen. “Where do I sign?”

  “Winter…” she says, her shaky voice just above a whisper. I can hear the apology in her tone. It only confirms my suspicions that she’s somehow involved in all this. Although I doubt she knew the extent of what she was really getting into.

  I shoot her a tired look. “I just want to sign the damn papers, Gianna. Okay?”

  After a moment, she glances back at Cain then nods. “Okay.”

  Page after page, I scribble my name on the line. A simple task, considering I’m about to inherit two million dollars by just flicking my wrist a few times. But by the time I get to the cashier’s check for three hundred thousand dollars, I feel exhausted.

  “What the fuck is this?” Cain asks, placing one, long finger on the check and dragging it across the desk.

  “Pierce had them set it up. It’s the money I owe him,’ I say, my tone bored.

  Cain huffs out a breath of disgust. “Not anymore.” He crumples the unsigned check in his hand before shoving it in his pocket. “Way I see it, he owes me.” His sinister glare hardens. “Since he took my property without permission and kept it from me for two fucking months.”

  His property.

  Not his woman.

  Not his ol’ lady.

  Hell, not even his cutslut.

  His property.

  Pierce had kept it for two months.

  I’ve always heard you had to hit rock bottom before you found the strength to get back up. Well, I must have finally found the darkest pit of my existence. Because although I’m tired…so fucking tired of living this life, I suddenly, for the first time in six years, have the will to do something about it.

  Cain’s focus is trained on the documents spread out on the table. When Gianna tells him that information is private, he silences her with a look. She stands scared and quiet as he leans closer, surveying the details on every page. Committing every account number and dollar amount to memory.

  Meanwhile, I’m eyeing the bulge at the small of his back beneath his suit jacket—visualizing the gun I’ve seen so many times. Imagining how the steel handle will feel in my hand. How heavy it will be. If it’ll take both hands to hold it or just one. If I’ll kill Cain quickly with one shot, or if I’ll unload the entire clip before his lifeless body slumps to the floor and he vanishes from my life for good.

  I came here today prepared to meet my fate. To willingly go with Cain in order to avoid bloodshed. I would do whatever I had to do to keep my brother alive. To keep Jinx alive. But what about me? If they found my life worthy enough for sacrifice, why couldn’t I?

  I’ve been so absorbed in keeping everyone else out of my life that I never considered standing up for myself. Until this moment. And despite the adrenaline rushing through my veins, a sense of peace surrounds me.

  So many times, I’ve considered this—taking his gun. Shooting him in the foot. Or the face. But there’s always been someone in the room or right outside the door. Right now, it’s just me, him and Gianna. It’s the perfect opportunity and likely the only one I’ll ever get.

  I’m taking my life back today. And if I end up losing it in the process, I’m okay with that. Because death is better than this. Better than being a prisoner. A piece of property. Being referred to as “it,” or “that.”

  Fuck that.

  Fuck it.

  Fuck life.

  Fuck death.

  Today, one way or another, I’m going to reclaim my freedom from Cain. All on my own. Without the help of a motorcycle club, my big brother or my dream guy.

  My name is Winter Tews.

  I’m not a fucking cutslut.

  I’m not your fucking property.

  I’m just a girl who found her balls. Flipped her middle finger to the world. Grabbed her crotch and screamed to the universe, “Suck my dick!”

  48

  WINTER

  “Did you just tell me to suck your dick?” Cain asks, staring past the gun in my hand to give me that signature look of his that used to make me feel stupid. Not anymore. Because right now, I feel like a motherfucking ninja. I have ever since I grabbed his gun and turned it on him thirty seconds ago.

  “Yeah. I did. Now move.”

  Slowly, he lifts his hands up and backs away. “Okay, baby. Just calm down.” I nearly laugh at his attempt to woo me with his charm. But he’s about five years too late for that.

  “I’m out, Cain,” I tell him, my voice calm despite how amped I am. I’ve never felt this alive. This powerful. No wonder the men in my life love being assholes. It feels good.

  “Out?” he asks, a hint of laughter in his tone.

  “Yes. Out. As in, I’m done. I want you to leave me alone. I’m not yours. Not anymore.”

  That easy, charming look of his melts away—replaced with the hardness of the Cain I know. “Who the fuck—”

  The sound of a bullet slicing through the air cuts him off. It takes me a moment to realize it was me who fired. It takes Cain just as long to realize he’s been shot. I stare wide-eyed at the blood slowly staining the side of his jacket.

  He stares at me in disbelief then stumbles back into a shelf and slowly slumps to the floor—clutching his side. Face pale. Breathing ragged. This sight of him should make me feel confident. Instead, I tremble as fear slowly takes over. My gut churns with sickness.

  I shot him.

  The door busts open and Jinx storms into the room, Pierce on his heels. They both look at me. Then Cain. Back at me. I frantically search their faces—unsure of what I’m looking for. When I meet Pierce’s eyes, I can’t look away.

  “Hand me the gun, Winter.” He’s so calm. So in control. But I’m holding the gun. I’m in control. I shake my head. He ignores me and steps closer. “It’s okay, sweet pea.”

  Sweet pea.

  My childhood nickname.

  Tears blur my vision but I blink past them. “I shot him.”

  Pierce nods. “I know.”

  “Me. I did it on my own.”

  “I know, baby. Now hand me the gun.”

  He doesn’t wait for me to hand it over. In one fluid movement, he has my wrist in his hand. He easily removes the gun from my shaky fingers. Tosses it to Jinx. Then his arms are around me. My head on his chest. His hand cradling my skull. Lips kissing my hair.

  “Shh…” he soothes. And I realize I’m crying. Crashing from the adrenaline rush. Panicking over what I’d done. Trying and failing to deal with the storm of emotions I feel at being in my brother’s arms.

  I’m ten years old again. Just a lost, little girl without parents. At the time, I didn’t understand Pierce’s controlling nature. And in this moment, I just don’t care. It feels good to let him carry the weight of my problems. To feel protected. To just fucking cry and let someone else deal with all the bullshit.

  After years of feuding. After all the hateful words. The betrayal. Lies. I’m right where I should be. I don’t want to stay here forever. I still want my freedom. But in this moment, I need Pierce to be Pierce. And I just need to be his little sister.

  “Winter,” Pierce says, sometime later. He tries to pull me back from his chest, but I cling tighter. “The police are here,” he whispers into my hair. “Just tell them the truth, understand?” I nod and he kisses my head. “Good girl.”

  When Pierce is in control, he’s relaxed. Focused. He exudes power. Under any other circumstance, I might find it fascinating--watching him give orders and bark out directions as if he’s in charge rather than the police. But all I can think about is the paramedics hovered around the body across the room.

  Is he dead?

  Alive?

  Am I a murderer?

  “Go with Jinx,” Pierce says, shifting me toward Jinx.

  His arm around my shoulders, Jinx guides me from the room. I breathe in his scent—immediately feeling better. Where Pierce has the power to make me feel vulnerable and dependent on him, Jinx makes me feel strong. L
ike I can conquer anything.

  I love him.

  The police ask me the same questions over and over. I don’t lie. After my story, Pierce, Jinx and Gianna’s all line up, they’re convinced that Cain was shot in self-defense and we’re able to leave.

  Three hours later, we’re back at the clubhouse. Me and Jinx sitting next to each other on the couch. My head on his shoulder. His fingers absently stroking my arm. Pierce is pacing as he talks on the phone with a detective getting more answers—something he’s been doing since we got here. I was impressed with his ability to find out shit by just lowering his tone.

  It was Gianna who’d contacted the police. She’d ran from the room after I pulled the gun on Cain, barricaded herself in an office and dialed 9-1-1. She’d also been the one who told Cain about where the meeting was taking place, gave him access to the back door of the building, and arranged the alone time between me and him.

  I wasn’t angry at Gianna. I knew how manipulative Cain could be. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me feel better to know he’d promised her money she never got. And that she’d pissed herself after hearing the gunshot.

  My thoughts are suddenly interrupted with Pierce’s newest announcement. “He’s going to live.” He sounds disappointed. Jinx grunts his disapproval. I, on the other hand, am relieved. I hadn’t killed anyone.

  “He has some outstanding warrants in Clark County. Once he can travel, they’ll be picking his ass up and locking him away for a while.” Pierce’s gaze lands on me. “We won’t have any problem out of his club either. From what I hear, they’re more relieved than anything.”

  I nod. Still taking it all in. Trying to process that I’m here. Alive. I shot Cain. He’s still alive. I’m free. Free.

  “Our flight leaves first thing in the morning,” Pierce says, pouring a glass of scotch. Okay. So maybe I’m not free.