Cut

by Bry Ann

  “Maria.”

  She stiffens, but keeps throwing the last of her things into her one duffle bag. One. She doesn’t strike me as the type of girl to bring one bag. I keep waiting for others to appear.

  “Yep?”

  “Turn around.”

  It if was possible for her body to betray her emotions any further, it does now. She freezes completely.

  “Please, leave it. I’m begging you. Something’s not right with me. Once I get to Albany, it’ll all be fine.”

  Maria Vasquez is begging me. She’s not the type. I doubt she begged Frances to stop when he broke her hand. She’s tough as nails, yet soft as silk. I can’t figure her out, and I’m usually a great read of people.

  I understand what she’s feeling. I don’t know what’s bothering her, but I do know what she’s going through. And I’ll say this, whatever she thinks her father is going to do for her in Albany isn’t going to work. She’s looking for a quick fix to a bigger problem, and before meeting Blade, I lived in that place.

  I won’t make her turn.

  “Maria, you want me to go with you?”

  “I can handle it myself!”

  She pulls her dress down, which brings my attention down to her ass. Shit. I don’t want to be a jerk. Her body is literally perfection though. It’s hard not to look. Again, that combination of hard and soft. I look up to find her pulling on an already closed zipper. I just watch her and I know she feels it. When she realizes she can no longer hide behind her luggage, she lets her hands fall to her sides, her shoulders go back, and she stands tall. She takes a deep breath and spins on her heel to face me. She has that seductive look in her eye, but I’m zeroed in on the remnants of water resting in them. She’d never cry here, but I know her eyes watered.

  I resist the urge to run my hand over my face. I need to learn to say fucking no to this woman. I’ve trained myself out of the ‘sweet boy’ my mom once loved, to become Cut. When those men gave me more scars than skin, I embodied it.

  I’m now more scars than skin. Blood than bone. Heart than soul. I’m grit, and through it all, I became Cut.

  With that said, Maria makes me weak. I can’t say no to her. I can say no to Lacey. I do things for Lacey because I want to, not because I can’t stand to see her face when I say no. With Maria, it’s like a compulsion. She’s so strong, so tough, seeing her shatter makes me want to do something, anything, to change it.

  “If I go with you, I still have to stop by and see Mandi and my mom.”

  I haven’t seen them in exactly two years, this coming Friday. My mom has yelled at me. Told me it was unacceptable that I haven’t come to visit. Mandi, on the other hand, being who she is, has threatened to come up here if I didn’t come visit. That can’t happen. She doesn’t know my name is Cut now. She doesn’t even know I train criminals. She just thinks I do martial arts coaching in a more general sense. She’d flip her shit if she found out. So I can’t say I didn’t think of these things when I agreed to go on this trip to Albany with Maria.

  “Okay. I can just wait in the car?”

  She poses it as a question, like I know what the hell I’m supposed to do with her while I meet with Mandi and my mom.

  “We’ll deal with that when we get there.”

  I stomp over and grab her bag, throwing it over my shoulder. I pull way too hard, expecting it to be insanely heavy. I look over my shoulder.

  “This all?”

  She smirks and walks over to me, stopping inches from my face. I stiffen and pull back. We play, but then she gets too close. I feel too much for this woman. And fuck, I can’t get hard around her. That would make this trip so much worse. But what does she expect from me when she walks around half naked all the time?! I’m only a man, and she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, with her tan skin, deep brown eyes, and stunning body, built with curves she’s not the least bit ashamed of.

  I have to stop thinking about this.

  “What, you expected me to pack seven hundred bags? Babe, I’m natural. I don’t use that much shit. I’m a soldier’s daughter, first and foremost.”

  She winks and walks out ahead of me. I’m left carrying her bag to our Uber. This is going to be a long trip.

  18

  “17C, 17C…” Maria is muttering herself, trying to work her way between the seats. Just about every man on this flight is looking at her. Her dress has slipped up her thigh. Her boobs are actually in place for once, but still very much there to look at. Her hair is wild and crazy. It’s impossible not to look at her.

  I try to focus on anything but her in front of me. I throw my one bag in the overhead bin; she checked hers. Then I’m forced to take a seat in 17B, right next to her. I know that damn mafia boss set it up this way on purpose. We will be having words.

  Maria ungracefully slips into her seat. Her breasts fall forward inches from my face. This time, I do get instantly hard, and I won’t have a release ‘til I get back. I always use the girls at Blade’s club. They are willing, they know me, and it leaves judgement about my scars to a minimum since fucking random dudes is pretty much what those girls do for a living. My scars don’t bother me much anymore, but if a girl looks at them horrified in bed, well that’s a turn off if there ever was one.

  “That didn’t go well,” Maria grumbles once she’s seated. She immediately looks down and starts adjusting her dress. Jesus, the woman is so indecent.

  I’m silent. Stiff in my seat.

  “When was the last time you traveled?”

  “Two years.”

  “When you visited your family last?”

  “Yes, Maria. When I visited my family last.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to irritate you!”

  She throws her hands up and rolls her eyes.

  “Do you have that blanket I asked you to pack in your carry on?”

  Without saying a word, I stand and dig through my bag to find the black and green blanket with purple sparkles she asked me to hold on to.

  “Here.”

  I toss it at her without saying a word as I take my seat. She immediately starts to curl up beside me.

  “I’m traveling with a robot,” she mutters. “An AI robot. The kind that hates humans.”

  I have to turn away from her so she doesn’t see me smile.

  “I saw that,” she mumbles. “You can’t hide your smile from me, big guy.”

  Her hand splays on the arm rest between us. Way too close to me.

  “Can you please tell me your name? Please.”

  Her voice is quiet, very close to sleep. I turn to her. Her head is now resting on the armrest by her hand. Her body is curled in a ball under the blanket. I can’t take my eyes off her. She looks very different than the sex-on-heels woman I see every day. There are no pretenses here. I’m getting a glimpse behind her curtain, but she’s not getting a glimpse behind mine.

  “No.” I glare at her, driving the point home, but she’s not fazed. She’s in dream land.

  “Then can you rub my hair back again? Please.”

  The word please is a whisper as sleep starts to take her, her eyes flutter open and closed. That takes me off-guard. I freeze and stare at her, letting my eyes bore into her small frame.

  “No, Maria.”

  “Name or hair, your choice.”

  Even half asleep, she’s bossy. I roll my eyes and slowly lift my hand, placing it on her head. I watch her carefully, waiting for a reaction. She was drunk last time. Now she’s aware. I’m scarred. My hands are rough, and large, practically covering her entire head. I’m not the kind of man a woman wants rubbing her hair back casually on a flight.

  I wait for that exact reaction from her, but that’s not what I get. Her body instantly slumps, relaxing into the seat. A soft sigh escapes her lips and she shimmies over closer to me. If I wasn’t aware of her before, I am now. Uncomfortably so. What are you doing, Maria Vasquez?

  I slowly start to stroke her hair. It’s not soft and silky, like one would e
xpect from a woman like her. Her hair is tangled and curly, but full. It bounces up against my hand with each stroke.

  She sighs again, like this is the best feeling in the world. She keeps shimmying closer to me. I don’t understand, but it’s honestly like if I put the armrest up, she’d curl up right in my lap if I let her.

  Is she being nice? Is this a thank you for coming with her? Maria does use her body to get what she wants, but I don’t think that’s what she’s doing. I don’t know. Since the day I started training, I don’t think a human has ever confused me more.

  I’m trying to sort through these thoughts, make a plan, handle them, when I hear soft snoring from beside me. I look down and see Maria lying there with her head over the armrest, neck tilted awkwardly, with her mouth open, softly snoring. I slowly move my hand from her hair, fearing it’ll wake her, but luckily her snoring continues. The left side of my mouth curves up. I shake my head, and as gently as I can, lift her head and place it back on the armrest so she doesn’t wake up with a crick in her neck.

  Then I stare at her. Her face is so soft and sweet compared to the mask she wears on a daily basis.

  “I’m a soldier’s daughter first and foremost.” That’s what she said. I can’t help but wonder if that has something to do with her fear of showing vulnerability.

  She starts to shimmy closer again. Her face falls off the armrest once more, nodding her head back and forth like she needs something. I take her head and place it back on the armrest, less gently this time. The strange sort of intimacy of this is bothering me. I haven’t done this kind of thing with a woman since I was taken, cut, and separated from the rest of society like a disease. The fact that I don’t bother her disturbs me more than any reaction I’ve gotten before.

  As if on cue, her head slips back over the armrest, putting it back at that awkward angle with her neck overly exposed.

  “Maria,” I growl, like she’s torturing me on purpose. I slip her head back on the armrest and it falls right back off. I look up and let out a deep groan before gently taking her head, throwing the armrest up, and placing it on the seat.

  There. Problem solved. I turn forward. I’m digging around for my headphones when a tickling sensation reaches my arm. Maria is nudging her head against my thigh and lower arm. I lift my arm and frown down at her. Without my arm as a barrier, she immediately plops her head on my lap and curls up, rubbing her head a few times against my upper thigh to get comfortable.

  I’m lost.

  She starts to make soft mewling sounds, so I place my hand on her head. I don’t move it. I just place it there. She instantly stops. She sighs, relaxes, and falls into a deeper sleep.

  I still want my headphones, because planes are boring as hell, but if I move I could wake her. She’s so peaceful. I don’t want to do that. So I just watch her.

  I watch as her fingers curl around my thigh.

  Watch as she breathes softly, snores quietly against my dark jeans.

  Over an hour of this goes by before she gasps and shoots up. She looks at the me, then the lack of armrest, then me again.

  “Oh god, what’d I do?”

  She scoots back in her seat and pulls her dress back up. Thank God. I don’t think I can stare at her tits again without losing my mind.

  I laugh at her question, but I’m warmed by the fact that she knows I’d never try anything on her. Knows that I would never so much as lay a hand on her without her consent.

  “Don’t worry about it. You were asleep.”

  Maria groans, but doesn’t say anything else. The rest of the flight is awkward. I can’t get what just happened out of my head. Maria’s in a weird mood, too, and I have a feeling we are both causing the other’s problems.

  So we don’t speak.

  “Well, this is nice. He didn’t spare any expense on the hotel, did he?”

  “He’s got the money,” I say, blowing her off as we head to our rooms on the third floor. He got us connecting rooms, but honestly, I’m just glad he didn’t get us one room for some asinine reason. I would have had to storm downstairs and demand my own room.

  “What’s your plan?” I ask as I walk into Maria’s room and place her bag on the bed.

  “Well, why waste time? I need to see my dad.” Okay, if that’s the plan what does she want from me? Am I waiting here? Going with? I don’t freaking know with this woman. “Wanna come?”

  “What?” My face blanks.

  She shrugs. “My dad would like you, and, well...” I see her hands twitch. She’s trying not to fidget. Respect washes over me in a way that it hasn’t since I met Lacey. “Maybe he’ll remember better with you around. You’re a new person, you’re intriguing, and I’ve sure never brought a guy around my dad. All that’s bound to give me a few extra minutes, right?”

  Her words come out high-pitched and friendly, but I notice how she’s unpacking her bag rather than facing me now.

  “Whatever you want, Maria.”

  She looks over her shoulder, the relief she feels written plain as day on her face.

  “Well, thank God. Let me change real quick.”

  She doesn’t need to tell me twice. I spin on my heel and walk out into the hallway. I’m ready to go. I’m in dark jeans, a leather jacket, and sneakers. I don’t have anything nicer. Once I’m leaning against the Cherrywood wall, I let my body give in to shame for a moment. What is her father going to think of me? What am I doing with a woman like Maria?

  I need to fucking fight. That’s my element. Not this. I ran from this. Buried it in my past, because it can’t exist anymore. Not with how I look.

  “Are you done brooding?”

  My head whips around to see Maria standing there, staring at me. My eyebrows raise when I look at her. She’s covered up. That’s a rare sight. She’s wearing a modest, baby blue button up with white jeans and wedges. She’s still the most sexy woman I’ve ever seen. Holy shit. I need air.

  “Outside,” I bark before running off.

  “Wait, does that mean I should follow?” She yells, running behind me easily, even in wedges.

  I look up at the sky with a growl. “I don’t know, Maria. You planning on going separately to your father’s?”

  “No.”

  My hand twitches when her voice comes from right beside me. She touches that hand softly.

  “You know, there’s no boxing gym here, but I googled it. Krav Maga is a fighting style, right? There’s a studio not even two miles from here.”

  I blink several times. The words I want to say are lodged in my throat. My heart beats faster.

  “What?”

  “I know that fighting must be a coping skill for you. I figured with a minimum of 72 hours away, combined with whatever other obvious issues you have, you’d need that normalcy in your life. And hey, maybe I can watch. I can get down with watching you kick people’s asses.”

  She looked into fight studios for me? She planned for any struggles I may have? I can’t handle this woman. So I say the only thing I can.

  “Obvious issues?” I cock an eyebrow. She rolls her eyes and tightens her grip on my palm.

  “Come on, big guy. Time to meet my papa.”

  I want to grab Maria by her hips, lift her, and plant her far away from me. Keep her out of my head where she makes me think things I shouldn’t.

  And that damn fucking blouse.

  I growl to myself. She turns back to me with a smile.

  Then winks.

  She. Fucking. Winks.

  And I know, just like I knew the moment I met Mandi, that she was going to ruin my life in such a way that I’d enjoy every second of it.

  I’m screwed.

  No amount of fighting could have prepared me for her.

  19

  “Okay, so remember. My dad was a soldier. He can be a little… intense. Don’t let him intimidate you.”

  She’s not even really looking at me. She’s fighting the urge to fidget so hard I think she may actually leap out of her skin.

&n
bsp; “Maria.”

  She finally looks over at me. I raise my eyebrows. Intimidate me, really? She looks me up and down once like she’s just realizing who she is talking to. Who I am. Some of her nerves slip away, and a smile takes their place.

  “Right, well, I don’t think he’ll intimidate you. How about you don’t intimidate him, mm-kay, big guy?”

  She bops me on the shoulder once and turns toward the clear glass doors of the nursing home. She opens up and immediately struts to the kid at the front desk. I linger in the background. Luckily, the lobby is empty and I stay out of sight of the front desk staff.

  “Hey, Matt,” Maria greets him like she’s known him her whole life. How long has her dad been sick? I take her in once more. She’s always doing things that make me question what I know about her.

  “Hello, Ms. Vasquez.”

  The kid blushes and turns away slightly. I try to suppress my smirk. I mean come on, if I was a scrawny 5’11 punk working at a nursing home and a woman like Maria walked up to the desk, I’d blush, too. I’m definitely not that, but I’d give anything to go back and be like this kid.

  I shake my head. Where are these thoughts coming from?

  Maria smiles warmly and leans over the desk. “How’s life, Mattie?”

  “Good. Busy.”

  “You still in college?”

  “Yeah, one semester left.”

  Maria extends her fist through the glass slot. “Go, Mattie. The suck is almost over.”

  That gets the kid to relax. He punches her fist back with a genuine smile.

  “Just sign in and go on back.”

  “Alright.” Maria looks over her shoulder and calls me over. “Come here, big guy. You need to sign in.”

  She turns back to Matt with that seductive smile in place. “I brought a friend today. He’s going back with me.”

  “Oh,” Matt’s eyebrows furrow, confused. Like this is a novel idea. Has she brought anyone here before? Fuck, what is happening?