Page 35 of Cutter's Hope

“Hear we’re going to the great state of Louisiana!” one of them said, a man I recognized but I didn’t know his name.

“Chill out, Lightning. We don’t know what’s what until the rest of the guys get here. Just because we voted it don’t mean we’re clear to go, you know that.” The man who spoke was an older guy, fifties maybe, bald and built with a graying trucker’s ‘stache.

“Hope,” I said to the older man giving him a chin lift. He grinned at me.

“Beast,” he said back.

“No offense, Beast, Lighting… but that’s my sister. I’m going with or without you guys.”

“Calm your tits, Sugar; just certain requirements have to be met. We don’t live in your civilian world ‘n you don’t live in ours.”

I eyed Beast carefully and bit my bottom lip, worrying it carefully in thought. This was Cutter’s world and rather than get butt twisted and piss these guys off more, I decided I’d bite.

“Can you explain it to me?” I asked and Beast’s grin grew larger.

“You see states, counties, cities… we see territories. New Orleans and its outlying parishes is Voodoo Bastard territory. Now our territory, Kraken territory is small by comparison. We never wanted a big national charter like the Sacred Hearts have. You know who I’m talking about with them, right?”

I nodded.

“Right, well The Kraken just hold Ft. Royal and about five miles in any direction of it. We don’t want more ‘n that. Where we’re heading is another MC’s territory. MC’s operate on respect first and foremost and part of that is you don’t go tromping onto the next dude’s territory without giving them a heads up, or in certain cases askin’ permission. Now our fearless leaders are working on that as we speak. You’ll find Cutter’s got one hell of a loyal crew. Captain barely had to ask and we all signed up for this shit.” That set me back on my heels, these guys barely knew me and what they’d seen of me, well I’d been mostly a bitch since I’d hit town…

“Why’re you helping me?” I asked quietly.

Lightning flashed a grin at me, his light green eyes luminous. He was handsome in his own right, just young for my tastes. Mid-twenties maybe and wiry with short cropped light brown hair. It was he who answered me, “’Cause, you’ve made the Captain smile again,” he told me which was one of the fucking weirdest and most cryptic things for him to say but I didn’t have time to ask because here came Marlin and Pyro, Radar and I think Atlas with Cutter coming in behind them. All of them carried packs or gear.

“Hey,” I said by way of greeting.

“Awright listen up!” Cutter barked as even more of his men came in behind him, “We’re headed to New Orleans, Pyro has our route planned and Atlas has made contact with the brotherhood in control of the territory out there. They’re expecting us. Pyro, brief us, Man. We ain’t got any time to waste.” Cutter looked at me as he delivered his last and I gave him a slight nod.

“Okay, we’re taking the I-75 North to the I-10 West, you stay in formation. Get your pockets full of change, we’re going to be hitting some toll booths. It’s gonna be around a 10 hour ride, we’re going straight through, that’s Captain’s orders so if any of you want or need to puss out, do it now. We’re going to stop and fuel on the way out of town. Grab an energy drink if you need to. Trike is going to be following us up in the crash truck, Beast, you’re our tailgunner,” Beast gave a snappy little salute at that, “Hope, you’re riding up front with the Pres since you’re A, fucking him and B, don’t know what the hell you’re doing with a crew.” Pyro gave me a tight lipped little smile and I raised my eyebrows a little.

“Jealous?” I asked with a wink. Pyro grinned.

“Ask me in front of my Ol’ Lady I’ll deny it but hell yes. Your ass is fine,” he shot back. Cutter smacked him lightly upside the head and scowled at him. Pyro laughed.

“Atlas,” Cutter intoned.

“Right,” Atlas cleared his throat, “We’ve got clear passage through Voodoo Bastard territory and as long as we stick to the big slab we’re clear through all the territories leading up to theirs. You fuckers better have your bikes in working order, there ain’t going to be any unplanned fuel stops. We should be good to go once we get on the road. You need to stop you know the signal.”

“Yell if you need to, Sweetheart,” Cutter told me. I was actually kind of surprised at how well organized and efficient these guys sounded for looking as hodge podge, rough and slapped together as they did, they seemed to have this shit down to a science.

Atlas and Pyro rattled off some other miscellaneous information and we all pulled on packs, cinching straps and making sure clasps and buckles were secure. I picked up my helmet and fell into step just behind Cutter, going for my bike. I put my helmet on, not caring to ride without it, mostly because my bike didn’t really have a place to stow it. Cutter gave me a side long look with a little smile as I climbed astride my baby.

“We gotta get you a real bike,” he said. I fired up with the sharp growl and whine unique to Ducati sport bikes and smiled.

“I like my bike just fine,” I said.

“No accounting for taste, Sweetheart, but I sure do like you on the back of mine,” I grinned secretly, my mouth hidden behind my helmet’s face mask and snapped down my tinted visor.

Cutter waved me up on his left and Marlin took to his right. I’d never ridden in a procession so large. I’d occasionally fall in with one or two other riders heading in the same direction while out on the interstate or highway, but I’d never been in more than a pack of four or five at the most. This was different. There was something base and almost tribal about it and I could tell my presence among them weirded a few of the guys out. I think it was both that I was a woman and that I was riding and it definitely didn’t help that I was riding a bike that was completely out of form from the rest of theirs. I imagined they had a rule for everything and what sorts of bikes were permissible within the club was one of them.

The roar and pulse of the bike’s engines was deafening, I tucked my earbuds in up under my helmet and plugged the wire into my phone which I zipped into a pocket in the upper arm of my jacket. My music played, Cutter gave a hand signal and we poured out of the drive and onto the street. An old U-Haul box truck falling in behind us. It was going to be a long ride.

16

Cutter…

Hope was holding up like a champion, there were times she would edge a little far up and I would have to throw her a hand signal but I got it. It was her sister. Hell, I had a brother, we didn’t speak but if it’d been him, I would want to get to him at break neck speeds myself. She’d been antsy at the first stop to top off our tanks. There were only so many pumps at the station and it’d taken two rounds to get all the bikes topped off and the crash truck too. She’d filled up, all the while bouncing on the balls of her feet ready to just fuckinggo.

---