Cutter's Hope (4 page)

“I get two more questions,” she pointed out then with that smile that was a match for my most rakish said, “Answer me. I’d ask nicely and sound like less of a demanding bitch but I’m not falling for that and, well, I kind of am a demanding bitch so spill it.”

I grinned, realizing I’d been quiet too long but it hadn’t been in an attempt to fool her into asking me to answer, I’d just been stunned by that stellar smile of hers into total silence.

“I do a lot of things for fun; work, swim, surf, fish, and yes, fuck. That one has to be my favorite,” she barked a laugh and it was a clear, musical sound. I liked that too. I couldn’t tell with her deep tan but she may have even been blushing.

“Crossing…” she stopped, “Excuse me, crossed the line right into the sex questions I see. Okay, last time you got to fuck?” She wasn’t pulling any punches and to be honest, the topic of conversation was right up my alley, not to mention it made me feel like a teenager again. Bonus points for anything that accomplished that.

“Few nights ago,” I said honestly, “Some tourist I picked up at a bar. Wasn’t anything special,” I opened my mouth to ask her something and she stopped me.

“Ah! Ah! Ah! No way, I’ve still got one more question, Mister.” I grinned and inclined my head. We were getting out closer to the water and the rhythmic crashing of the waves on the shore was both soothing and a nice dull roar. We had to raise our voices to be heard over the white noise of the surf but that didn’t bother us any. I turned us gently to walk along the water back towards the marina where my boat was moored.

“Okay, Darlin’. Go ahead and ask,” I urged.

“I’m thinking!” She looked like she was doing it pretty hard too, it also looked like she was enjoying our little get to know you game. I know I was.

“You a love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy, Cutter? A real heartbreaker?” she asked.

“Why, you interested in a good time?”

“Answer my question first and maybe I’ll answer yours,” she tilted her face in my direction, into the sun and shaded her eyes with her hand. She unhooked her arm from mine to do it and I have to say, I didn’t much like that. She finished off her coffee drink and I sucked down the rest of mine, making her wait for it.

“No, I make sure the terms are set before anything happens,” I said. “Never been a cheater and never found the girl of my dreams neither,” which wasn’t exactly a lie. Hayden was never mine to begin with. It was only my damn fool ass to blame for any heartache on my part where Li’l Bit was concerned. My fault and no one else’s. I’d come to terms with that a while ago and she and Reave would never know just how deep those feelings ran, which was as it should be.

Hope’s expression became somber, then calculating before finally becoming a mixture of regret and defeat in equal measure. She looked up at me, face hard as stone.

“Only thing I’m interested in is finding that girl,” she stated flatly but it was too late. I’d seen the cracks in her armor. Tough as she was there was some vulnerability in there. Fuck that was hot.

“Well, you know, doesn’t mean you can’t have a little bit of fun while you’re doing it, now does it?” I asked and put on my most charming smile. No dice. She was having none of it.

“That’s exactly what that means. Good talk, Cutter. Small town and all, I’m sure I’ll see you around.” She spun as if to go and I caught her elbow, firmly but gently and she froze. I waited for her to swing on me. I knew she was trained and capable but she didn’t so much as twitch a single muscle. Interesting. She was stiff, in a holding pattern of readiness, her body almost thrummed with barely contained violence and my respect and desire for her started a steady climb.

“Hey look, I’m just horsing around, I didn’t mean to make light of whatever it is you’ve got going on. For real.”

She looked like she was thinking that over hard, finally she shook her head, rounded her arm, and slipped out of my grasp with a classic evasion move. I let her do it and she turned, striding across the sugar fine sand, back towards town. I stood and watched her go, admittedly enjoying the view of that fine, toned ass of hers in its short skirt as she walked away from me. I waited to see if she would stop, or turn back, and just when I thought it was time to give it up, that there was really no interest there, she finally did it. She turned and looked back over her shoulder at me. I couldn’t see her eyes for the distance but it was something.

Gave me hope that Hope and I would be seeing each other again. Truthfully, I already knew I would. It hadn’t been hard to engineer my ‘accidental’ run in with her at Soul Fuel on the boulevard for this little chat. Lily had done what I asked and had texted me the second she’d seen her. The whole town knew I’d marked Hope Andrews. She shouldn’t have any problems while she was here, at least not from the locals. She wouldn’t be getting any cooperation from them either though. Not until I knew exactly what she was after. What she wanted with the Suicide King’s girl from the lake.

I would definitely be seeing Hope again, all roads to the answers she sought ended with me. I just had to make sure whatever answers she got kept me, and my club, in the clear.

Chapter 5

Hope

I take it back. Cutter wasn’t confident, he was an arrogant ass. Although truthfully, I think I was more butt hurt that I let myself be distracted, even for just a minute, by my hormones. Faith deserved better than that. Faith depended on me and I’d been letting her down for almost
two years
. My namesake was running out on me but I would be fucked if I would quit on Faithy before I knew for sure where she was or what’d happened to her.

I walked back to the Bed and Breakfast, fueled by my mounting anger, my fury at my helpless inability to find my sister. I changed into a set of workout clothes, wrapped my hands and went out the back of the B&B into the yard. First thing I’d done upon hitting this town was figure out what I could hit and not do any damage. There wasn’t a gym around here to speak of, unless it was a heavy bag and a set of weights in some beach bum meat head’s garage, so I settled for a heavy hand wrap and the use of one of the B&B’s palm trees. This was only the second time I’d been out here… today.

I stretched, warmed up, and laid into the damn tree until my wraps were toast and I was pretty sure I was bruised
and
bleeding underneath. I didn’t care. The pain helped me focus. I stood, chest heaving, body slicked with sweat and still didn’t feel any real satisfaction. I wanted to cry, but crying was for pussies, and just because I had one, didn’t mean I
was
one.

I stared out the back gate and over the white sand beach towards the clear turquoise water. I debated heartily for several moments between shower and swim. The sun was hanging low in the sky and the coffee on the beach had definitely worn off. I sighed and started to unwrap my hands. Food had to be next on the agenda. I needed to refuel. Once the wraps were off I flexed my hands. Two knuckles on my left hand were swelling and two on my right were indeed bleeding, the skin slightly split. No more punching things for a day or two. That was okay, I could still kick the shit out of the poor tree.

“You won this time sucka, but next time I’m taking you down,” I muttered at it before trudging wearily back into the B&B, my wraps trailing forlornly from my leaden arms. I took the stairs two at a time to push myself, and once back in my room, treated myself to a hot shower. It was amazing how restorative they could be.

I spent a minute on my hair and makeup, blow drying the mass of chestnut waves kept it from getting frizzy on me and just a touch of product kept it looking sleek and shiny. I did my makeup, emphasizing my large brown eyes with bronze shadows. Some nude gloss on my lips and I felt put together, at least on the outside. I donned the same short dress I’d been in earlier but traded out the simple beachy flip flops I’d started the day in for some gladiator sandal heels. You know the kind, goldish metallic, the kind that wound up the leg. I liked them even if they were stereotypical white girl, trash-tastic. They were my favorite heels to wear if the shit got real. High enough to accentuate my legs, but low enough that I could still throw a perfect round house kick without fear of losing my balance in the slightest. I mean, why worry about function over form when you could have both with just a little extra effort?

I grabbed my purse, the weight of the gun inside kind of annoying, and slung the bag over my shoulder. Keys, phone, wallet, compact and lip gloss were all accounted for alongside the Ruger .38 revolver I was packing. It was a cute little gun, held five shots. I had some spare bullets tucked away but that was wishful thinking. If I were in a gunfight long enough to have a need to reload I was doing it wrong.

I left the Bed and Breakfast and started the walk back towards town. I’d ridden in on my 2013 Ducati Diavel. I loved her so much. She was a glossy black and leaned in the shade looking pretty badass, practically begging me to go for a ride. Wasn’t happening though. Especially with the bikers in town. That would seriously lead me to having to whoop one of their asses. No one talked shit about my baby, but that pack of jokers, one of them would try it.

It was about a thirty minute walk from the Nautilus to the start of The Boulevard, which is what the locals called the main drag through town. I thought a lot about Cutter on my way down the sidewalk. I was trying to pick a place to eat, which just about every place here was fish themed or devoted to fish. Not a bad thing, not at all, as a California girl, I grew up on the stuff but when every place had pretty much the same fare it made it hard to decide which one to go with.

I finally just picked one at random and went in. It was a little coastal themed bar and grill, and as soon as I went through the open air doorway, I wished I had picked any other restaurant but this one. Cutter was standing by the bar, beer in his hand talking to one of his motorcycle gang brethren or brothers or whatever the fuck they called each other.

“Whoa! Now who’s following who, Sweetheart?” he called out with one of those pyroclastic, panty-vaporizing smiles. I still wasn’t wearing any but it still had the desired effect. Damn it.

“Just looking for something to eat, I could find someplace else but, you know, fuck that,” I said and slid up onto a vacant barstool next to him. He laughed.

“Sorry about earlier?” he asked.

Yes. I need you to tell me how you know Tonya, I need to know what you know…

“Nope.” I said but I think my bravado failed me this time, Cutter’s chocolate brown eyes softened, becoming liquid and deep. He kept his gaze fixed on mine, never backing down.

“Care to finish our date then?”

“No.”

“Hey Pyro, shove off, Man. I’ll see you around, I’ve got a date with the lady,” Cutter said, his gaze still affixed to mine. I raised an eyebrow. Pushy bastard wasn’t he?

“See you around Bro,” Pyro clapped Cutter on the back of his leather vest, polished off his beer and slid the glass down the bar to the tender. I didn’t see if the man serving caught it or not but there was no sound of breaking glass so he must have. Cutter slid up on the stool next to mine. Our eyes remained locked.

“I didn’t mean to offend you out there,” he said quietly.

“Noted.”

“You don’t give an inch do you, Sweetheart?” he asked, an easy smile gracing his mouth. Fuck I bet he tasted phenomenal. I scowled harder.

“Why won’t you tell me?” I asked.

“Why won’t
you
tell
me?
” he asked. We had this pretty bad track record of deadlocking, stalemating, whatever.

“I don’t trust people with my personal business,” I said. He tilted his head to the side considering.

“Personal huh?”

“Yep.”

“Well it’s pretty much the same for me, Baby. How do I know I can trust you?”

“Look, I don’t care about whatever it is you do out here. I’m just looking for the girl.”

“Why?”

Fuck, he was going to try and force this out of me and I wasn’t about to go there. After the first few false leads when a reward had been offered, back in the beginning of this nightmare, I’d learned to keep my cards close to my vest. People, as it turned out, were inherently shitty, selfish, fucks who were only in it for themselves. More than once I had gone out on a wing and a prayer only to find that some dumb prick, or worse, some even dumber twat leading a meathead or two
around
by their pricks. They were all the same. All of them were confident they could get me somewhere neutral and roll me for the reward money I may or may not have been carrying. They didn’t give two shits, they were preying on the hopes and prayers of someone just trying to find their lost sister. They’d all lost something too by the time I’d gotten done with them. Their freedom, or, in one or two cases an eye or a finger…

“Okay, let’s make a deal,” he said when I’d been silent and balefully staring at him for too long. I raised an eyebrow and I knew I didn’t look impressed.

“I’ll buy you dinner, we’ll talk about the unimportant shit for a while, take a walk back with me to my boat, share a glass of wine and let’s get to know each other some, eh?” he looked at me plaintively and I snorted.

“I said I don’t give it up on the first date,” I said dryly.

“Not looking for sex,” he said softly. If he were, he’d be disappointed because I would probably… who the fuck was I kidding, if it weren’t for Faith I would probably tap that ass and be slipping out of his bed pulling the walk of shame before the sun could even rise. I was about to smart off but there was something in the look he was giving me.

“Sure, yeah. Okay.” I found myself saying.
Who the fuck was this guy that he could have such an effect on me after just a couple of meets?