Page 34 of Cutter's Hope

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?

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 meI’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.

I tucked the Ruger into the small of my back up under my jacket into its inner pants holster and shoved my purse into the top of my pack, cinching the drawstrings tight and closing the flap. The front door to the house opened and a few of Cutter’s men came in.

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