Cutter's Hope (14 page)

“Right,” she said with a frown, I could tell she was trying to figure out if I was serious. I smiled to myself. She was mine. I would never let my guys pull a train on her, not in a million fucking years, still, if it served as some incentive to keep her gun pointed away from my face, I was okay with that.

“You aren’t serious, are you?” she asked finally and I chuckled.

“Usually I don’t mind sharing, but for some reason, with you, I got a problem with that,” I told her truthfully. She nodded carefully and I dished us up some food.

“Good to know,” she murmured and pushed to her feet. She went to the fridge and brought out a bottle of white. I wished I could say it was interesting that she wasn’t outwardly phased or outraged by a threat of rape but she’d been in the military and threats of that nature, hell,
follow through
, wasn’t an uncommon practice.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Hmm? Yeah, why?” she asked.

“Suddenly feeling a little guilty for that asshole remark,” I told her.

She set the bottle and glasses on the counter and came to me, pulling me into her by the belt loops on my jeans. I put my hands on her shoulders and looked down the couple of inches into her dark and lovely eyes.

“I’d knee you in the balls if it made you feel better but I’m going to need them later,” she murmured demurely and I chuckled darkly.

“Run for my money,” I uttered and kissed her softly, she bit my bottom lip playfully and I went from zero to hard in point three seconds.

“I’m hungry,” she whispered against my mouth, punctuating the statement with a chaste kiss before stepping back.

“Dinner is served as soon as you sit your ass down at the table and pour us some wine,” I told her. She smiled coyly over her shoulder and took the bottle and glasses she’d scared up to the table, pouring two generous glassfuls.

I brought the food over and we sat in silence, eating quietly, savoring our dinner. It was nice not having to fill the silence with inane chatter. Nicer still that she rose and did the dishes with me at the sink. Dishes done and put away I took her hand and linked my fingers with hers, leading her to the living room couch. We took our wine with us and sank into the leather, cooled by the house’s AC.

“Tell me about yourself,” I murmured.

“Not much to tell, really… My mother had me young, she was sixteen… then she had Faith when I was ten and Charity when I was 12,” she fell silent and I could tell that this was going to be a painful story for her.

“What about your dad?” I asked, low and careful.

“Took mom’s virginity, left her pregnant, and bounced, I never knew him. Only picture I saw was out of the high school yearbook. Mom never talked about him really, I don’t even have his last name. My mom put hers on the birth certificate. I’m not entirely sure the encounter was consensual if you catch my drift. Any time it came up she would just shut down, I’m not sure he even knows I exist.” I pulled her back against my chest and she took a large swallow of her wine.

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be, you can’t miss what you never had in the first place. I mean, am I right?” she laid her head back against my chest and I nodded slowly.

“I guess.”

“Anyways, mom met Dirk when I was eight or nine and they got hitched. A couple of years later she had Faith, then a year and a half, two years after that there was Charity. Dirk started drinking or drugging or both and Mom ditched his ass by the time Char was two and it was just the four of us. She hooked back up with him off and on while the girls grew up until I was around fourteen, then she lost him for good.” She was quiet for a minute, sipping her wine thoughtfully, before she roused herself to continue.

“Then Mom got sick when I was sixteen. She died the day after my eighteenth birthday. Thank God she managed to hang on that long, otherwise Dirk may have gotten Faith and Char and that was going to happen over my dead body. It was a fight and a half for custody as it was… I enlisted, Grammy helped out as much as she could ‘til I got through basic and the rest is sort of history,” she said.

“How old were the girls when your mom died?” I wanted to check my math.

“Eight and six, I went from big sister to sister-mom overnight,” she sighed and sagged into my chest a little, “Not like I would trade it for anything, I love my Bubbles and Blossom to death,” she smiled.

“Bubbles and Blossom?” I asked choking on a laugh.

“Yep and I’m Buttercup!” I couldn’t see her face, just the top of her head with how we were laying but I could hear the grin in her voice.

“How the fuck you figure?” I asked.

“Haven’t you ever heard of the Power Puff Girls?” she asked.

“No, what’s a Power Puff Girl?”

“Oh my God!” she sat bolt upright and turned, “This set up have Netflix?” she asked waving her hand at the television and entertainment center.

“Uhhh I think so, I don’t really pay attention to that kind of crap.”

Next thing I know, Hope is working remotes like a pro and I’m watching some retarded kid’s cartoon about three little girl super heroes, laughing my ass off at the green one’s attitude problem, which I guess was Buttercup.

“The girls loved this,” she said, “Want to watch another one?”

I gazed at her and it hit me just how rough her situation was, both then and now…

“Maybe later,” I grazed her cheek with my thumb and she switched off the TV and whatever else she had running.

“Why are you looking at me that way?” she asked softly and looked uncomfortable.

“You’re kind of amazing, you know that?”

She shook her head, “If I were amazing, I never would have lost Faith in the first place. Charity wouldn’t be out her closest sister, and I wouldn’t feel like such a fucking failure,” she said unhappily.

I looked her over. I had a feeling that she was leaving a lot of shit out about her situation growing up. Like why, as young as she appeared to be, she would have done such a major surgery to prevent any pregnancy. I wanted to ask, but I kept my mouth shut. It was none of my business what she did with her body, really, and it wasn’t like I was complaining. Kids weren’t any part of my future plans, not leading this outlaw life of mine.

“What?” she demanded when I’d been staring a touch too long.

“You’ve had it rough, haven’t you, Darlin’?” I asked gently.

“Rather not talk about it anymore,” she said.

“Fair enough, what would you rather talk about?” I asked gently.

She stood up and straddled my lap looking down into my face, studying it for a while, the hour was growing late and her eyes slipped shut. She sighed out…

“How do you think this is going to end?” she asked quietly.

“Does it have to?” I asked, pitching my voice low.

“Eventually. Everything has to end,” she murmured.

“Yeah, but we don’t have to think about that today, or tomorrow or even the next day. Why not just enjoy the ride, Sweetheart?” I asked.

“Not sure I’ve ever been able to. Everything seems to have a timestamp on it for me. An expiration date. It’s just the way it’s always been.”

I smoothed my hands up under my shirt along her satiny skin, she was warm and alive beneath my palms and I smiled a whimsical, crooked smile at her.

“Sure, yeah, okay…” I said without much conviction, I didn’t want to argue or fight with her, I just wanted the tension to ease out of her posture and for her to just fucking relax for a minute.

She slowly lowered her face towards mine, her hands smoothing over my chest, I grew hard with the anticipation of her lips meeting mine. She was so fiery, so determined. Strong and hardened by life’s circumstances but at the same time, soft and yielding under my touch. She aroused me in so many ways, physically, intellectually, and yes, even the beginnings of emotionally.

Her lips hovered a fraction of an inch above mine, her breath warm, fanning across my lips sending a shot of adrenaline straight to my heart, causing it to swell in my chest and her fucking phone rang. She smiled, lips curving gently and murmured, “Hold that thought,” before pushing off of me and to her feet.

I was gonna die.

She padded to the dining table and scooped up her phone, her eyes glued on me and answered it without looking…

“About time you called me back, Blossom,” she said grinning but then I saw the easy smile slide right off her face.

What the fuck?

Chapter 15

Hope

“Hope Andrews?” a male voice, thick with a southern accent, rolled out of my earpiece at me.

“Yes, sorry, I answered without looking, I was expecting my sister to call. What can I do for you…?” I left the question open ended in anticipation that he would tell me his name.

“Yes, Ma’am. This is Detective Atchison of the Plaquemines Parish Sherriff’s Department over here in Louisiana,” he said.

“Well Detective Atchison, what can I do for you?” I asked. It was around five o’clock here, but only four in Louisiana so it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that he was calling me for a consult.

Cutter was looking at me, his expression carefully neutral as I slipped into my more professional role of Hope Andrews, Defense Contractor. I went to him and straddled his hips again, a ghost of a smile on my lips which sloughed right off when Detective Atchison started speaking again.

“Well Ma’am, I think it’s more what I can do for you. You see we’re holding your sister, Faith Dobbins on a charge of prostitution, she was brought in early this morning and when we put her name and prints through the system it hit over in New Orleans. Now it took a minute for them to contact us down here, but the Detective I talked to, Detective Thibault, you know that name?” he asked.

“Yes, I trained his department and he was the Detective assigned to my sister’s case when she went missing.” My voice sounded hollow, distant, I couldn’t believe this was happening, I mean was this really happening!? Cutter’s hands were riding over his stolen shirt, smoothing up and down over my hips, as I held myself ridged above him. I locked eyes with him and compassion and support radiated off of him in waves.

“Well Detective Thibault said I should contact you, so that’s what I’m doing. Your sister has yet to be arraigned but typically this being a misdemeanor and her first offense she’ll probably be held on about a thousand dollars bond, you can bail her out…” his voice droned as what he was saying finally hit home.

Faith. Arrested…
arrested for prostitution.
What the hell?

“No, no! No… please, can you keep her there? I’m about twelve hours away. I’ll leave now. I’ll ride in. I can be there by morning, just can you keep her there?” I asked and I knew I sounded desperate.

“Well she’s here until she’s arraigned and if no one posts her bail, yeah,” he said.

“Okay, I’m coming, I’m on my way, what’s the address?”

Cutter worked his phone out of his hip pocket and opened the notepad app and took the address down as I repeated it. He stared me in the eyes with a grim resolve and mouthed at me
I’m with you…
I nodded slowly and was surprised at the relief that brought me. I blinked and spoke with the Detective a little more and by the time I hung up Cutter was in the midst of his own call.

He gave my ass a short smack indicating I needed to get up and I bolted to my feet. He stood and I tuned in to what he was saying.

“Then take a fucking vote on who’s with me but I’m going, Man; so you’d better have a wrecking crew ready and get Atlas on finding out who holds the territory. I’ll call ‘em from the road if I have to. Hope and I are leavin’ inside the hour.”

I swallowed hard, amazed that he would do that for me… that he really was a man of his word. He’d promised, but in my life and my world, promises didn’t mean diddly squat.

“Right, meet us at the safe house then,” he tilted the phone away from his mouth and addressed me, “I gotta run to the boat, grab some shit, you gonna be ready when I get back?” he demanded. I nodded.

“You take off without us, I’m not only going to chase you down, I’m going to own your ass again when I catch up to you,” he threatened with a wink. I smiled, warmth suffusing me.

“Hurry the fuck up then, I’ll be dressed and ready to ride by the time you get back.”

He nodded and went for his leather vest, which for some bizarre reason he called it a cut, and pulled it off the back of the kitchen chair. He talked into the phone, mostly making noncommittal noises or grunts of agreement. I stripped his shirt over my head and handed it to him. He winked and shoved it in his back pocket before he stuffed his feet in his boots.

I went for the master suite upstairs and my gear, fear and wonder, anger and confusion, spurring me on. Faith. Prostitution. Fuck she’d never left Louisiana! What the fuck had she gotten herself into?

I stopped inside the door to the master suite and listened to Cutter’s bike roar into the distance. I turned my wrist into the light coming from the bathroom and caressed over the writing there with my thumb.
Virtue…
All three of us girls had them done on Charity’s eighteenth birthday, it was what my mother had named us after. Hope, Faith, and Charity, the three virtues of legend.

I stared at the ceiling and blinked back the tears that were threatening as the implications of that phone call hit home.
Faith was alive.
My little sister was alive and hurting and into God knew what. I sniffed, spurned back into action. My little sister was alive and ass deep in alligators and sinking fast and I needed to do what I set out to do from the very beginning. I needed to save her. So it was time to man up rather than bitch out. I had a long ride in front of me. I ducked into the shower, washed quickly and got out, pulling my hair back, and up into a tight bun at the back of my head that would be comfortable under my helmet.

I dressed to ride in my gear and was grateful I’d pretty much packed my shit. By the time I was sitting in the living room, lacing up my boots, the first bikes started to rumble up the street outside. I wondered vaguely how many would be coming. Who would want to stand with the woman, who not twenty-four hours before, pointed a gun in their leader’s face.