by Naomi West
Frowning, Liona bit her lower lip. “Do you think he'd really follow her?”
Cutter shrugged. “Maybe he will. Maybe he won't. But we both know Wyland and how he is, best not to take any unnecessary risks. You remember back in school.”
She remembered. Wyland had gotten out of line a number of times, and it should have been a warning sign to her. She should have seen all of this coming from a mile way, just because of that one thing. Neither her nor Cutter seemed able to bring it up by name, like it was taboo or something. Beside her, though, he had tensed up a little at the memory. Clearly, it wasn't just water under the bridge to him. Liona let the issue simmer and linger, just beneath the surface.
A pair of headlights broke the moment. They belonged to a late model sedan, a Honda, and they slowed as the car came closer. Liona brought up a hand, shielding her eyes from the blinding light of the high beams, and peered out at the car from around her fingers. When the lights finally illuminated Liona and Cutter fully, the car came to complete halt and killed the engine and, thankfully, the headlights, too. Liona thought the car looked like Carly's, but she couldn't be for sure in the dim light of the stars overhead, no matter how bountiful they were this far out from town. She glanced to Cutter, who glanced back at her.
“That her?” Cutter asked. His hand was inside his coat. What he was grabbing, Liona couldn't tell for sure. Was it a gun? A knife? Honestly, neither would have surprised her. The only thing that did actually surprise her was how secure she felt knowing he might be armed. Never in a million years could you have convinced pre-wedding Liona Copeland that being around a weapon of some sort would one day make her feel safe. But, here she was.
The car door opened, but the dome light didn't trigger. Silently, the driver stepped out.
“Liona?” Carly whispered.
“Carly?” Liona whispered back.
“You can talk normally,” Cutter said, his voice drier than the Sahara during a drought. His leather coat creaked and rustled a little as he withdrew his hand from inside.
“Oh,” Carly said. She fumbled with her keys in the dark and popped her trunk. She turned back to her, and waved her hands in the air in celebration. “I got your stuff!”
Liona clapped and went running over to her. They met halfway and hugged.
“Oh,” Carly said as they held each other, just like sisters, “I'm so going to fucking kill you when this is over with.” She soothed the back of Liona's hair down as they both laughed.
Liona's former maid-of-honor pulled back from the hug, grabbed her by both arms, and held her at arm's length. “You are okay, right?” she asked, emphasizing the verb.
“Yes,” Liona replied, nearly exasperated. “I told you that fifty times over the phone, girl. Why don't you believe me?”
“Well, gee, Liona, lemme fucking think about it,” she said, really laying sarcasm on thick and heavy. “Because you told me everything was fine on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday fucking morning, before you literally jumped out a window and disappeared from your wedding.”
Liona almost stamped her foot in frustration. Her friend was right to be worried. Even though Liona had escaped a bad situation, Carly didn't know the particulars of everything. She just thought her friend had lost her ever-loving mind.
“Who's tall, dark, and tattoo-guy over there, anyway?” Carly asked, nodding her head past Liona to Cutter.
“That?” Liona asked. “That's Cutter.”
“Cutter, huh? He the new boy-toy, or something?”
“What?” Liona asked, the astonishment at her friend's accusation filling her voice. “Why would you-?”
“Look, girl,” Carly said, “I get it. Wyland's a fucking tool. Sure, he's rich and had a good job, but he's so creepy and fake.”
“Wait,” Liona said, holding up a hand. “You thought he was creepy and fake? And you never told me?”
Carly shrugged. “You liked him, so I kept my mouth shut.” She shifted her look back to Cutter and gave him a little wave. “I like the new one, though. He looks rough. Is he?”
“Is he what?”
“Well, you know,” Carly replied, her eyes lighting up, even in the darkness of the deserted road, “rough?”
Liona rolled her eyes. “God, you're the worst.”
“You love me,” her friend replied. “Do I get to meet him, at least?”
“Yes, you get to meet him. And, by the way, no, he's not my new boy toy. I didn't plan to run off with him.”
Carly frowned a little, like her hopes had been dashes against the rocks of reality. Clearly, she'd wanted an illicit love affair, or something equally flashy and fun, to be the ultimate cause of Liona's fleeing. The more they spoke, though, the more that look in Carly's eyes began to slowly fade away.
“Did you bring my bag?” Liona asked.
“Got it in the trunk. I see why you wanted it in a backpack, by the way. Roller luggage wouldn't work on a bike, would it?”
Together, they went back to Carly's trunk and grabbed Liona's bag. In the yellowish light from the trunk's overhead light, Carly peered at her best friend, seemingly looking for signs of weakness, fear, or deceit. Liona grabbed the backpack, her old college bag, and slipped it on.
“Wyland said,” Carly began, the words clearly leaving a bad taste in her mouth, “to tell you that he'll still take you back, even after all the trouble you put him through.”
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.”
&
nbsp; “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?”
