by Bex Dane
Me: What're you doing here?
Cass: I hate you.
Me: Get off this helo now.
Cass: Bite me.
Jesus.
The door closes, and Arthur takes the pilot's chair. I'd have to cause a major scene to get her off this helicopter now. We buckle in, and Arthur points to headsets for us to put on.
"Can you hear me?" he asks.
I give him a thumbs up and Cass says, "Roger that," with a smile.
The engine whines and the blades chuf-chuf with an increasing intensity and pitch. Gravity pulls us down as we take flight.
This shit just got real.
I still have minimal evidence this is anything other than what he says it is. A fun jaunt to his private island.
My gut tells me trouble is on the way.
If it goes bad, at least I'm here to protect Cass.
Chapter 22 Tom Sawyer
Cass
I'm connected to Cutter via the headsets but so are Arthur and Juliet. I want to yell and scream at him for flirting with Juliet. I didn't come here to fight with him but when I saw him with Juliet, I lost my cool. He didn't even know if I was here, and he went and made plans to go on an island jaunt with a pretty young girl. Much too young for him. Much too young to be on this helicopter.
She needs to be protected.
And that's what Cutter is doing. Okay. I'm calming down now. The green-eyed monster came out for a minute, but I have to remember the goal for tonight.
Help Cutter take down Arthur.
He doesn't know I'm here to be his backup, and he probably doesn't want me involved, but I had to come for him.
I'm sure he's furious with me for being here, but I don't care. Even if we never get back together, I'm not letting him face this alone.
I know Arthur is probably his father, and he lied to me about it. He didn't trust me enough to let me in, but that doesn't change how much I care about him. Cutter Twist has become the most important person in my life, and I could never stay home and let him battle this demon alone.
Arthur rambles into the headset telling us how he purchased the island and renovated it to be his personal oasis.
Cutter sits with his neck straight, his eyes unblinking and narrowed in on Arthur's hands on the controls. He's not even attempting to look interested like Juliet, who is checking everything out.
"I bet your kids loved to play on your island. Did they pretend to be Tom Sawyer?" Juliet asks Arthur.
Cutter's hand moves to the pocket of his pants and grips something from the outside. His knife. I want to reach out and stop him, but I can't take the chance of blowing this for him.
"I don't have any kids," Arthur answers back with an awkward grin.
"Oh really?" Juliet persists. "I thought I read you had a daughter and a son."
Cutter's arm jerks as he digs inside his pants pocket. A muscle in his neck strains tight like a slingshot ready to launch.
"Nope. I enjoy my lifestyle too much. Wouldn't want kids to slow me down." He looks back and winks at Juliet.
Cutter pulls the knife from his pocket and holds it by his side. He snaps the blade open slowly so it doesn't click. If he stabs Arthur right now, we'll go spiraling to our death.
That's when I see it for certain in their profiles. The tilt of the nose, the upswing of the jaw, the strong brow.
They remove all doubt.
Arthur is Cutter's biological father.
The man who put those horrible scars on Cutter's back. He also hurt Sutton and his mother. All the pain I felt the first time I saw his scars comes rushing back through me. What kind of man attacks a child with a knife and slices up his back, leaving him bleeding in front of his sister. Why didn't his mother protect him? How did this man get away with a crime like that?
No wonder Cutter went ballistic about my choice to attend the party. I feel his rage too. It's been building since I first suspected it but right now I'm certain. We finally have a target for all our fury and frustration. He's right in front of us, and Cutter is gripping a knife with Arthur's back squarely in the center of his crosshairs.
He must be fighting back armies of impulses to strike right now. My hand trembles as I reach out to touch his shoulder. His head snaps to the side, and he stares down at my hand.
I can't say anything to him because everyone will hear.
Attempting to be cryptic in case anyone else sees, I send him a text.
Me: I know who he is to you.
When his phone buzzes, he glances down.
Good. He saw my text.
His gaze darts around the cabin, as if he is checking to see if anyone else saw the message. Even if they did, it's too general. No one would know what I meant.
But Cutter does. He looks back at me for the first time since we took off. An out of control fire burns in his eyes. I've seen that tortured look in his eyes twice before. The night he pulled a knife on me and after the fight with Jareth where he fought to defend his family. He's in that zone right now, probably desperately clinging to every thread of restraint in his grasp.
He needs someone to help him. He needs me.
And even though we're in the middle of a nasty fight, I will always be there for him.
Me: I got your back.
He glances at his phone again. I guess I said the right thing because his shoulders rise and fall with a heavy sigh before he folds the knife up and shoves it back into his pocket. The muscles in his neck are still taut, but the live grenade in the seat in front of me has been neutralized. For now.
He picks up his phone.
Cutter: It's not safe for you here.
Me: Let me help you.
He responds with a slight head shake and a text.
Cutter: No.
Me: I'm here. Let me take your back.
His eyes roll to the roof of the helicopter as he focuses forward again.
Cutter: Jesus.
Me: :)
Cutter: We'll talk on the island.
He doesn't look back again, but the strained muscle in his neck is gone, and I could swear I saw a hint of a grin pull at the corner of his lips.
Me: Okie dokie.
Chapter 23 Faking It
Juliet talks to Arthur for the rest of the flight while Cutter and I sit in silence. It seems fishy not to say anything so I state the obvious. "The stars are so much brighter out here."
"Yes. Thank you," Arthur says as if he himself put them there.
Cutter's gloominess suffocates the air, and I nudge his chair from behind. If he's posing as Neil Ainsman, he needs to at least pretend to enjoy himself.
The helicopter sways and bumps as we land beside a square white building with navy blue stripes. It's so odd to see a building out here in the middle of the ocean with seagulls and sea lions. Beyond the building, the island looks nothing like the other Channel Islands. All the California native plants have been removed and replaced with tall palms bending in the ocean breeze.
Past the infinity pool, long wooden docks lead down to the water reminding me of pictures I've seen of all-inclusive island vacations. He has completely pillaged this place of its native elements and transformed it into some kind of Egyptian fantasy of his.
"Isn't it great?" Arthur asks me after the helicopter engine shuts down and the rotor blades stop spinning.
"It's extraordinary." And not in a good way.
Inside, Arthur shows us around what looks like Cleopatra's lair. The turquoise furniture shines with gilded trim. A giant sphinx looks over the room from above the fireplace. Arthur brags how he imported gold and artifacts from all over the world. He's giddy with pride, showing off the material wealth he's collected. I'm not impressed. None of this means anything.
What Cutter has up in the mountains impresses me. Family. Love. Nature. This is a counterfeit attempt to prove inanimate objects can fill the need for human connection if they are coveted enough. Hollywood props this idea up a lot, but it always fails. There is no replacement for a family that loves
you.
Arthur pours us drinks from a long bar on the wall in the living room and chats with Juliet. Cutter, who has been doing better at faking a casual demeanor since we got off the helicopter, leans over the bar and whispers in Arthur's ear. Arthur glances at me and nods toward a long corridor of bedrooms.
Cutter says, "Thank you," and walks straight to me, grabs my hand, and pulls me down the hallway.
Once we're alone in a room with the door closed, I start to speak but he shushes me with his finger over my lips. He checks all the objects in the room, the mirror, the closet, and even the headboard of the king-sized bed.
After looking in the bathroom medicine cabinet, he walks back to me and crowds me up against the door. "He's listening and watching," he whispers close to my ear.
He must somehow know Arthur has cameras on us. "Is he your bio father?" I whisper in his ear.
I can hear his teeth grinding as his jaw clenches. Finally, with a stiff and gradual nod, he admits it and closes his eyes.
My hands come up to his neck to comfort him, but he pulls them away and pins them against the door.
"Don't fight me, Cass." He's scowling at me and holding my wrists firmly.
His mouth returns to my ear where he whispers, "Play along."
Play along. I get it. Arthur's watching us. Cutter's trying to earn Arthur's trust by acting like a jerk, and he's asking me to help him. I promised him in the helicopter I'd take his back, and he's letting me be part of his plan. Good. Smart choice. I hold back the triumphant glee I feel inside. Celebrate later. Right now, we can do this. We can take down Arthur together.
I haven't done any professional acting myself, but I've been around enough actresses and movie sets to imitate what I've seen. I am myself in my videos, but I can still draw from those skills right now. "Stop, Neil. Stop." My head thrashes against the door. Not sure if it's convincing, but it's all that came to mind.
After a beat, the heat of his body assaults me as he presses up against me. Every solid inch of him is plastering me to the door. "I said don't fight it." He growls and I'm instantly turned on. Our relationship is in such a weird place, this is really confusing. We're pretending to be fighting, but we are really fighting, but he's also asking me to fight with him against Arthur.
To get through it, I decide to pretend this fake fight is the real fight we need to have about the breakup. "You lied to me."
His eyebrows furl. "What?"
The brown layer over his blue eyes throws me off a bit, but I manage to stay focused. "You said I could trust you and I can't."
He flinches, but digests what I've said. His eyes narrow and understanding flashes through them. "I told you what I expected, and you didn't deliver." He caught on quickly, and now he's referring to my decision to go to the party.
"I didn't agree to what you expected. You added conditions without my consent." He asked me to give him a chance to talk me out of it. He didn't say he would force me not to go.
"It was implied. You should've figured that out." His voice has an edge of indignation. He didn't say it, but I can hear his voice saying stupid like he did the first night I met him. He's saying I should've known he would break up with me if I went against his will and attended the party. I'm getting angry at him all over again, but then I remember the one fact that changed everything.
"It was also implied you'd tell me the truth, and you didn't." I asked him flat-out if Arthur was his biological dad, and he lied and said no.
"Well, now you know." His bravado falters, and he looks away. He releases my hands, and for a moment, I think he's given up on our quest. No, Cutter. Keep it up. We can do this together.
He steps away and turns in a circle with his palm rubbing over his hair. When we make eye contact again, I try as hard as I can to show him I'm here for him and I believe in him. His eyes flash as he reaches in his pocket and pulls out his knife. He clicks it open and presses it to my throat.
His rock solid body smashes me up against the door again. "Don't give me anymore grief, Cass, or I'll slit your throat." The sharp point digging into my skin makes my lips tremble, and I instinctively reach up to push his forearms back. He has me pinned like I've fallen into a steep granite crevice. The blade bobs as I swallow the big lump in my throat. The savage fury in his eyes seems so real, but it's nowhere near the true torment I saw in his eyes on the helicopter.
He lowers his head, so his lips are at my ear. "It's okay, babe. I won't hurt you." His voice is gravelly and hoarse, but he didn't need to say it. I knew he'd never threaten me like this. He smashes his lips to mine, and I keep mine tightly closed like I don't want it.
I whimper in protest, but it's really an exultant cry. Cutter is on my side, he's letting me be on his. We're an unstoppable team right now.
My lips part of their own will. My body is reacting to him like it always does. He grunts, returning my eagerness as his tongue dives in and tangles with mine. We're breaking character, but I don't think either one of us can restrain it much longer. We can't pretend to hate each other when we're on fire like this.
When he drops the knife on the floor and lifts me up under my thighs, I get the sense he's not playing at all anymore. He's on a different mission now, and it involves tossing me to my back on the bed. The air bursts from my lungs in a hearty gust.
He prowls over me and yanks my dress up, exposing my bottom half to whatever cameras might be watching us. Need and hunger burn in his heated gaze as it travels from my heels up to my thin lacy thong. We make eye contact again, and there's a desperation there I've never seen before. The stress of all this is coming together right now, and he's losing control. He can't even play the role of an entitled jerk anymore. That's fine with me. I don't want to pretend either.
He grabs half of the comforter and tosses it over our bodies as he falls on top of me. He kisses me again, and the way his mouth devours mine tells me I was right. He's clinging to me, seeking refuge from the danger out there by hiding under here with me. His arms shake, and his whole body tenses as he pulls away. He's trying to hold back.
I rub his head and tug him close again. His strong neck stays taut and distant. "It's okay. I want it. It's okay." My hands pull harder, forcing him to give into it.
He exhales long and slow like a tea kettle after you turn off the heat. I've given him permission to release it all on me. I can take it. I want it. His lips finally turn up after having been so stiff all night and his eyes soften, the hardness fading. He ducks under the covers and stops with his lips at the tattoo on my sternum. His hand squeezes my hip. He's saying listen. With his hot, wet tongue, he draws two horizontal lines and one vertical across my torso. It's clearly an I.
He circles out and down to my belly button and mirrors it on the other side. I have to struggle not to giggle at the delicious tickle.
It's a heart.
He starts at one breast and traces his tongue down to my navel in a big U.
I love you.
He's saying he loves me.
I wish I could say it back, but I can't so I whimper and throw my head back. His head surfaces from under the covers and his long, deep kiss says he loves me in another way that can't be mistaken. He's feeling all the overwhelming joy I'm feeling too. I tell him I love him by returning the power of his kiss with the strength of a tsunami.
His hand trails down my sides and keeps moving down, down between my legs. He fists my underwear and tears it off with a forceful yank. When his fingers slip between my folds and feel how wet I am for him, he moans.
He was probably worried the fear would paralyze me, but I'm loving sharing every second of this with him. No matter what happens next, he knows I love him, and I am entirely here for him at this moment. He's not alone facing his father. I'm supporting him emotionally, physically, and in every possible way.
He takes a minute to massage my clit, but I'm already there and we need to hurry. "Go ahead."
His eyes flare and anticipation curls in my gut as he quickly works his pan
ts open. Yes! He's going for it. My hands grip the hulking muscles of his shoulders and scratch at his shirt.
I don't care if it's on tape, I need this man inside me like I need to breathe. His body aligns with mine and my hand finds his colossal cock hard and straining for me. I run my fingers over the head and squeeze it down to the base.
He leans into my ear and groans. "This makes you mine."
I wrap my arms around his shoulders and whisper back. "Already was yours." I'm already his and have been since the first time I saw his scars. I'm his.
As the head of his dick penetrates my entrance, we both pant and shiver, struggling to hold onto the last thread of control we've got over this situation.
He thrusts in and out once and my hips answer back. The coarse hair on his groin scrapes against my sensitive clit and I'm climbing with him. When he pumps all his strength into me, it's like he's channeling all the pain, all the fear, all the uncertainty into it and smashing it to smithereens.
"Cut—" He stifles my flub with a kiss. "Neil." I want to tell him what I'm feeling, but I can't. I know he senses it from my clasping hands, arching hips, and desperate kisses.
A long high-pitched keen pours out of my mouth as an orgasm overtakes me. I whimper as my sex pulses around him. Lord, I love this man.
He groans, grinding faster and harder, his breath hitches and a warm light spreads from his body to mine. We vibrate together, holding onto each other through it all.
His kisses become slow and languid as his thrusts draw out the downward side of our climaxes.
He whispers in my ear, "So good, babe. Amazing." He kisses my neck for another minute then says, "This sucks, but I'm gonna leave now."
I'm sad our secret getaway is over, but I'm ready to face this with him. "Okay. We got this."
He squeezes my hip as he breaks our connection. "Let's hope it works because I'm never putting you at risk again."
I press my lips to his ear. "Be careful."
His arm around me tightens before he releases me and climbs out of the bed. He coughs as he buckles his pants. "That was good, Cass. I'm glad you came around to seeing it my way." He puts on his Neil Ainsman persona, and I have to laugh inside. If he's trying to convince Arthur he's an asshole, that probably wasn't the best way to do it.