Page 36 of Cutter's Hope

The first pit stop we’d made she’d gone into the women’s restroom, returned to her bike and fired it right back up. She wasn’t speaking to anyone, didn’t even pop off her helmet. She was brooding and I didn’t blame her. She and her sisters were close, which meant one thing and one thing only. Whatever her girl Faith was into, it wasn’t something she wanted to be doin’ and she wasn’t in any position to get away or call for help or she damn sure would have done it by now.

It was creeping up on six-thirty in the am when we pulled off the exit of the I-10 West and dropped down into the outskirts of the city. I checked my rearview and followed Pyro’s hand gestures, making turns and wending through some quiet, busted ass, hoods. Some of the buildings around these parts were nothing but the cement slab of a foundation. Houses taken out by Hurricane Katrina and just never rebuilt.

It was a fuckin’ shame too. Those white slabs gleaming in the dark reminded me of the flat markers in modern cemeteries and with the destruction that storm caused, I probably wasn’t far off the mark. Hope edged up next to me and looked over, her face hidden behind the gleaming carapace of her ultra-modern helmet. I gave her a reassuring nod and when she dropped back just behind me to my left. It was kind of nice we were in tune enough after such a short time that we could pick up words and intent without ever having to speak. Her little move had spoken to me clearly,are we close?All it took was a slight inclination of my head to reassure her that yes, we were close.

I didn’t think I had to be nervous about her and the meet and greet with this new MC, but shehadpointed a gun in my face the last time she got worked up. I sighed, we’d deal with it if and when it came up. I glanced back and Pyro gave me the signal that it was the next driveway on the left.

It was a fenced in lot, one of them chain link fences topped with barbed wire with the plastic privacy slats in them. The slats were gray but some enterprising street artist had gotten to them with their spray cans. What resulted wasn’t any half assed gang graffiti though. No, they’d done quite the mural of the MC’s colors on there. A skull grinned out at us from an angle, one of those round eye piece things, like Mr. Peanut sported, crammed into its eye socket, magnifying the eyeball behind it which was green. The Skull wore a purple top hat and in gold lettersThe Voodoo Bastardswas proclaimed loud and proud.

Not very subtle, but if you had the reputation and the balls to back it, you didn’t need subtle. I pulled into the lot with my guys and my woman ranging out behind me. There were five or six bikes backed against the cinderblock building, by the single door. I chose to back us into the open area on the left.

At the sound of the bikes, three men came out the front door. Probably their wrecking crew, to scope us out. Didn’t blame them one bit. I shut off my bike and put down my kickstand and a fourth man exited the club house. A big dude, bulky and solid.

“What the fuck you riding, Boy?” he demanded, eyes fixed on Hope who was standing beside my bike, I smiled and she looked down at me, face still masked by her helmet. I shrugged and popped my chinstrap. She shrugged back and went for hers.

She pulled off her helmet and her hair had come unpinned during the ride, tumbling almost artfully down around her shoulders, her bangs flopping into her eyes. She stuck out her luscious bottom lip and blew, her bangs flying up out of her dark eyes and fixed the men of the Voodoo Bastards with a curious look.

“One, I’m not a boy, and two, she’s a 2013 Ducati Diavel and I love her,” she flashed the boys her cheeky grin and I chuckled.

The man who’d spoken from the back huffed a laugh and pushed through his guys, “Well, I’ll be damned. What’s your name, Darlin’?” he asked her and she pulled off her gloves while she calculated what she could and couldn’t get away with. I could see her doing the math and it was hot as fuck.

“Hope,” she said and stuck out her hand to shake. The big dude took it and turned it and bowed gallantly brushing it with a kiss.

“Well Hope, welcome to my humble abode, I’m Ruth. My boys call me Ruthie but only the ladies are allowed to call me Baby Ruth.” He gave her a roguish smile.

So this was the President of the Voodoo Bastards. Interesting. I got off my bike and left my helmet on the seat.

“You Cutter?” he asked, turning his attention to me.

“That I am,” I said and stuck out my hand.

He shook it and asked, “You do that?” and indicated with a nod of his head the bruise on Hope’s jaw.

“Unfortunately,” I intoned and made my regret clear.

“If it makes you feel any better Ididpoint a gun in his face. Not sure you can provoke a man much more,” she told him.

“Is that right?” he asked, “Well, come on in, we got some cots set up so y’all can grab a little sleep. I’d really like to hear the whole story on why it is that you’re here, in the meantime please accept our hospitality.”

Hope gave him a wan smile, “Much appreciated,” she said, “But if it’s all the same I would really like to go get my sister. Happy to tell you whatever you want to know and then someafterI’ve got her.”

Ruth looked over to Hope and glanced her up and down before saying slowly, “Nah Darlin’, I feel you… you know where you’re going?” he asked.

“Plaquemines Parish Sherriff’s Department, I have the address right here,” she reached for a pocket in the upper arm of her jacket but Ruth waved her off.

“Naw, Darlin’, it ain’t nothin’ but a thirty minute ride from here, we’ll show yah, you sure you’re up to it though?”

“Yep, I’m not waiting another minute to get my sister. I’m sorry but I can’t… I know you boys are used to doing things in a certain order or a certain way but I’ve got to go get her,” she was looking at me as she spoke and her expression spoke volumes. She was so very apologetic with her eyes but her desperation had me mounting my bike.

“Lightning! Radar!” I barked, “You’re with us.”

There was no way I was letting her go with anyone without me by her side, whether she could take care of herself or not. Atlas and Lightning were the most rested out of the guys that’d come with us.

“Hex, La Croix, mount up, Boys. Let’s take the lady where she wants to go,” Ruth winked at me and I nodded in return. This was going to cost me and mine a pretty penny but it didn’t matter much. Most of it was coming out of my pocket and cuts of our smuggling operation. I went into my saddlebag and pulled out the box of Cubans and handed them to Ruth. He smiled broadly and lifted the lid on the cigar box, eyes alight.

“Why thank you kindly, Cutter,” he said with a wink and called out, “Collier!”

A prospect came jogging out of the building and after relieving the box of Cubans of one of the cigars he handed it to the man.

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