Page 2 of Devil to Pay: Cutter

Bikes travel through this area. Thousands of them a year. It could be a coincidence, some friends heading down to one of the beach cities. But chances are better that those belong to the men hunting for me.

Focus, Aja. You’re going to kill yourself.

I let out a long breath because it’s going to be a long night.

Despite being on the road for hours, the adrenaline high is keeping me upright, keeping me going.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so thankful to have the light bounce off that giant peach on the ‘Welcome to Georgia’ sign in my life.

Georgia has several coastal, tourist towns. The first one I come to, that’s my next target. It sickens me to contemplate resurrecting my old life, but tourists carry cash and cards and I need cash and cards because I have nothing save a couple of bucks shoved in my pocket.

Like a boon from the universe, I spot my first mark. An old man, and probably his wife, walking into a diner. Clicking my blinker, I slow, turning into the parking lot.

And so it begins.

2

CUTTER

“Brother,” I shout, pointing to the twenty-four-hour diner to our right.

Roughneck, my MC brother and best friend, holds his meaty fist up in the air, signaling to me that he heard. Rough and I prospected together when the Horde was a very different club. He’s not fat, he’s solid. Tall and bulky, a real cornfed motherfucker. Like a bull. They probably should’ve called him Bull. He got the name Roughneck because he’d been working an oil rig in the gulf when he started prospecting for the club.

Now we’re the only two of our president Vlad’s lieutenants not to be caught up in till-death-do-us-part pussy.

Nowwe’re the only lieutenants he sends out to lead the runs.

We have a buyer who loves our guns. We sell quality. Only we’ve had to change up our drop-off locations because of an MC called the Death Bringers. They’ve somehow been getting intel on our locations whenever we cross into Florida. So we moved the operation up to Georgia. They’ve taken out a few of our men. We retaliated by taking out a hell of a lot more of theirs, but that doesn’t mean I grow a hard-on thinking about a confrontation.

The delivery went off without a hitch. The guns are the buyer’s problem now.

I turn into the parking lot of the diner, taking the closest spot I can find to the old brick building, and cut the engine, cracking my neck left and right before dismounting my ride. I’m tired, I’m hungry, and I just need something to fill my belly before finding a hotel for the night.

Rough and the other brothers join me.

“Let’s move a couple of tables together,” Rough says and I shake my headyes, not giving two shits about our seating arrangements, when I see a hot little number sitting alone at a booth with only a cup of coffee in front of her and I’m suddenly all about my dick.

“Be right back,” I tell my brothers to their laughs and back pats.

She has a head full of black hair that has to be long the way it’s piled in a messy knot on top of her head. She’s tiny, but I’d be willing to bet that she’s got some curve to that ass. Great tits. Cleavage on display in a deep scoop neck tank the color of plums. With her tan skin tone, it looks incredible. Everything about this chick makes my dick grow hard.

The woman turns her head at my approach, spearing me with a surprised look through the darkest, fathomless eyes imaginable. It’s like an arrow piercing my chest, stopping me in my tracks. She’s got a bit of a shiner going on. There’s a story that goes along with it. But given the late hour and that she’s sitting alone, I’m a hundred percent sure she doesn’t want to share it with me, a stranger.

“Can I help you?” she asks, schooling her expression and Jesus, just the sound of her voice could get a normal man to nut in his boxers. Good thing I’m no normal man.

“Why are you sitting by yourself in a diner at this hour?”

“You came over here to harass me about why I’m here?” That husky quality back in her voice this time as she eyes me up and down. A slow smirk spreads across her plump lips. Oh yeah, she likes what she sees.

I laugh. She’s got a hardness that tells me she’s lived some life for her age—which, if I have to guess, would put her in her early to mid-twenties. Sometimes the best tactic is the direct one.

“No. I came over to move you to our table.” I use my head to point in the way of my brothers.

“And why would I do that?”

“So I can feed you before I fuck you.”

Her mouth drops open and her cheeks pink, but it’s the heat behind those eyes that tells me she’s considering my offer.

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