“Warms my heart to see her spirit ain’t broken.”
Greta waved her hands in front of the men. “Hello, I’m right here, people.”
Cutter broke into a chortle.
Scudder finally acknowledged her, “That you are. You drinkin’ something stronger than Coke nowadays?”
Greta gave Cutter a sidelong, questioning glance. His left eye squinted slightly, an indication of approval. Good, because she needed a drink like she needed her next breath. “I could use rum in that Coke.”
“I’ll be damned. Grown up into a queen.”
Before she could slap him, he turned away and walked behind the bar. Waving them over, he signaled to the other Horsemen, giving them permission to approach her. Scudder might be old, but he was the guardian of the clubhouse premises.
Led by Stacy, Scudder’s old lady, the women surged forward and engulfed them. Cutter might have control over her heart and body, but he was powerless in the face of these proud women. They pried her away from Cutter and pulled her into the core of their circle. Whether reacquainting themselves with her or introducing themselves to her, they showered her with devotion. Their prodigal daughter had returned, and they worshipped her as if she was the answer to their prayers. Throwing looks at Cutter, they assessed him with an audacity the brothers wouldn’t have gotten away with.
Except for Stacy, she remembered these old ladies and bitches as timid and cowed. But as they swayed her in their undulating arms, they were energized, and she joined them in their reverie. Unchecked tears flowed down her cheeks as she was liberated from the pain and remorse she’d secreted away for years. All the while, Cutter circled around them like a prowling male keeping an eye on his mate.
Among her family of origin and Cutter, hope nudged her in the chest. Perhaps seeing Scorpion would be cathartic as well. A vision came to her, of sitting by his bed as he recited the Native stories of her childhood to her, her head laying on the padding of his shoulder. Cutter had told her the story of lying by his mother’s side before she died. Although she’d been asleep, the moment helped pull him through his grief afterward. Who knew what unexpected gift awaited her when she met Scorpion?
Chapter Forty-One
Dusk blanketed the sky by the time they reached the hospital. Against the background of low, flat clouds from an incoming summer storm, a column of windows flew up above them, pouring out florescent light that took on a muted glow in the hazy drizzle.
They drove past the bright lights of the entranceway to the back of the parking lot, and Greta’s hands fisted his cut like it was a lifeline. Her gesture hurt his heart. Despite her nervousness, he’d promised to take care of her, and bringing her to see her father was part of that.
Shutting off the engine, Cutter offered her a comforting smile. His fingers intertwined with hers as he tucked her into his side. At the curb of the sidewalk across from the hospital entrance, Greta broke off and hung back. He chucked her on the chin and said, “Head up. You’re afraid but look how well things went at the clubhouse.”
“This is altogether different.”
Beckoning her back to his side, he said, “Yeah, but one thing’s the same. You’ve got me by your side.”
She hesitated for a moment, then joined him, and they crossed the street together. The glass doors slid open into a cheery, blissfully cool, bustling lobby. At the check-in counter, a woman wearing a name tag with Marge written in block letters, welcomed them. Greta muttered her father’s name, and Marge clapped her hands together in glee.
“Oh! You’re here to visit Mr. Wright.” Greta stiffened against him. No fuckin’ wonder because Wright was not her surname.
“At first, the young men visiting him made me a tad nervous. But his sons and their friends are such nice boys.”
Greta choked, and Cutter had to pound between her shoulders to stop her spluttering.
Unaware, the woman blushed and winked. “They do like to flirt with the women.”
Greta clenched the edge of the desk as she forced a tight smile on her lips. Looking her over, Marge inquired, “Are you family, too?”
A sharp sound came from the back of her throat. He sent her a quelling look, and with a broad smile, explained, “Sorry, my wife has allergies.”
Labeling her as his wife renewed her agitation, and he roughly hauled her squirming body against him. She let out an oomph, but at least she quieted down.
“You alright, hon?” Marge asked, with a stitch of concern between her eyebrows.
“She’ll be fine. A seat and a glass of water will help. You know women when they’re expecting,” he ended with a shrug. Beneath his jacket, Greta inflicted a wicked pinch to his side. He ground down on his molars and plastered a smile on his face as the woman prattled on.
“The same thing happened to me with my oldest. Now, when you get to Mr. Wright’s room, make sure to settle yourself in a cozy chair. He’s in 205, the west wing. Take a left, go down the long hall to the end, and grab one of the elevators there.”
She gave Greta a commiserating smile. “The first trimester is the worst, dear. Hang in there, and remember, before you know it you’ll be cuddling that bundle of joy in your arms!”
“Thanks for your advice, ma’am,” Cutter replied overly politely. He gave her a little salute and towed Greta away before she wrapped her hands around Marge’s neck and strangled her.
Around the nearest corner, Greta spat out, “His sons? Sons, my ass. Nice boys? Jesus, every one of them is a cold-blooded killer. Is she insane? They even look the part!”
“Easy, babe. Don’t lose your shit now.”
“And you!” She smacked his taut stomach, but her hand bounced off. “Your wife. Your pregnant wife. I’m just sayin’, this isn’t the time to poke the bear, Cutter. I’m about to go Incredible Hulk on these people and you’re making jokes?”
He pulled her to his other side before she got slammed by an orderly hurtling down the hallway pushing a rolling metal container.
“I don’t joke about shit like that. This isn’t the time to delve into a serious discussion about pregnancy, of all things, but it is a conversation we will have.”
Spinning her around, Cutter prodded her down the busy corridor toward the elevators. Once they got there, her limbs slackened, and she leaned into him heavily. His sweet girl was exhausted. He slid his forearm around her back, and she snuggled into his chest.
They rode up to the second floor and followed the signs to the Intensive Care Unit. Doctors, nurses, and interns zipped around them with maniacal efficiency or hunched over screens and tapped away with intent concentration. Greta dragged her feet as they walked down a hallway and entered the waiting area for the ICU.
Half a dozen bikers lounged on the bolted seats, either on their phones or watching a TV monitor attached to the wall. One biker had a wiggling toddler firmly grasped on his lap. Another man paced the length of the wall-to-wall carpeting, like a death-row inmate. Turning on his heel, he caught sight of them and paused midstride.
Shadow.
His dark eyes churned with an emotion Cutter knew only too well. Longing. Christ, this was a shit show. He pinned the asshole with a fuck-you glare.
The asshole jerked his head and said tersely, “He’s in there. I’ll take you.”
Cutter waved his hand magnanimously. “Lead the way.”
At the sound of his deep baritone, heads swung in their direction. Several bikers shot up off their seats, their eyes grim, mouths flat. The biker with the kid moved the boy behind him, as if to protect him from danger. Cutter snorted at the irony of it.
The colors of his Demon Squad leather cut had them snarling deep in warning. Raising her chin, Greta took the lead and punched the button that opened the double doors leading to the isolated unit. At Scorpion’s room, Shadow signaled to the brothers manning the outside to step aside.
Nodding, Greta acknowledged them, “Gunner. Lazer.”
He almost burst out laughing when their eyeballs bulged out of their sockets. Gunner cracke
d a smile at Greta but nipped it when Shadow threw him a look full of daggers.
※※※
Gunner looked the same, except for a few more laugh lines around his eyes. He drew the hospital curtain open for them to step in. The pungent odor of antiseptic hit her, and her nose twitched as if she was about to sneeze. A large window filtered in the twinkling lights from the surrounding hospital buildings in the darkness. Shadow took his position beside Scorpion. Her nerves jangled like a distorted heavy-metal guitar riff.
Her father was propped up on pillows, eyes closed, his corded, tattooed forearms crossed over his torso. The once large frame he carried was gaunt, his abdomen cavernous in a hospital gown that dwarfed him. A white cotton blanket covered his skinny, atrophied legs. Much of his hair was missing. The long braid he’d once worn with pride was gone. Taking in his emaciated body, Greta expected to feel something. Extreme love or extreme hate. Instead, she felt nothing. There he lay, whittled down to an old, worn-out biker who’d lived too hard, and would die too soon.
Scorpion’s eyes slanted open like a copperhead snake and enlarged in increments. They glittered with the instincts of a killer. Pressing the controller, the head of his bed rose as his gaze roved over her. Then, it cut to Cutter’s patches, dismissing her. He spat on the linoleum floor. “What in the fuck is a Demon Squad asswipe doin’ with my daughter?”
“Seriously? After ten years, that’s the first thing you have to say to me. You’re unbelievable. You don’t have the decency to take care of your own blood, but you have the nerve to question my choice in a partner?”
Poised to jump over his bed and cut off the remainder of his short life, Cutter snatched her by the arm and held her back. She struggled against his hold, so he hooked her by the waist, sat down and towed her over his lap. Nimbly, she scrambled upright. The dead hole inside her was rapidly filling up with hate and the urge to throw her independence in his face.
“He’s with me and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
Scorpion’s face turned a mottled purple. His was a man’s world, and a foreign male from another clan was a direct insult to him and everything he stood for. His razor-sharp eyes paused on Greta’s hand, rubbing Cutter’s chest. Straining forward, he roared, “Get him the fuck out of here!”
His bellow ended in a ragged cough. Cutter casually flicked a piece of lint off his denim jeans, leaned in and nuzzled the side of her throat. Shadow’s glower deepened, his dark eyes burning bright.
Tension vibrated through Greta’s muscles. Gathering her determination around her like a cloak, she declared, “He stays. If you wish to talk, then talk. Otherwise we’re leaving.”
Scorpion wiped spittle from his mouth with the back of his hand. “Who the fuck is he to you?”
Greta began to respond, but Cutter interjected, “Cutter’s my name. I claimed your daughter.”
Greta’s hand stilled as she dragged in a protracted breath. The troublemaker in her wanted to argue with him. Scorpion registered her reaction, and a slow, demonic grin spread over his face. “You’re shit out of luck, boy, ’cause I decide who claims her.”
Greta exploded out of Cutter’s lap. “You,” she sneered, “are not my father in any way that counts! You’re nothing but a sperm donor and you don’t have any power over me.”
Cutter rose behind her and caught her by the nape. At this point, her dreams of reuniting were dashed, and second-degree murder was looking like a pretty good option.
※※※
Cutter wanted to rip his shirt off, beat his chest, and crow his victory to the world because he’d publicly declared Greta as his. Pride filled his lungs as his little kitten’s back arched, fur raised, ears flat. She was spitting mad. Fucking cute.
“I lived with you for what? Sixteen years? You had years to behave like a real father but instead you spent your time destroying Marianne. You lost the right to decide what I do with my life.”
Her words hadn’t wiped off Scorpion’s smirk. Without an ounce of contrition, he jabbed a finger toward Cutter and snarled, “He’s a worthless dog! Quit whinin’ that I wasn’t around when you were a kid. While I’m still breathing, I’m making up for it and getting you the fuck away from him.”
Escaping Cutter’s hold, she clawed up Scorpion’s bed before he had the chance to pluck her off. Her arms were swinging as she fought to reach Scorpion. The Horsemen began to move toward them, but he held them off with a scowl. In her ear, he warned, “Settle down. Don’t give him the satisfaction.”
Her hand flung back and cracked against the side of his temple. Fuck, that stung. Gasping, she caressed the reddening skin. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry!”
Veering back toward Scorpion again, Greta argued, “You know nothing about him.”
“You think I don’t know about the man-whore my daughter shacked up with or his reputation,” he spat out the last word with disgust. “The twisted motherfucker made a name for himself for tyin’ bitches up and you’re complainin’ about what I did to your mother? You’ll regret him as much as your mother regretted me.” Cutter almost doubled over in laughter. The old son-of-a-bitch had no clue who his daughter was.
Greta buckled against him and he caught her before she fell to the floor. Fuck this. There was no reconciliation in sight. The suffering in her eyes made him want to tear the old man to shreds, but his priority was his woman. Time to shut it down.
“We’re done here, old man.”
He ushered her toward the exit, and they were almost across the threshold when Shadow stepped in front of them.
“The hell you are.”
“That’s right, son, take what you should’ve taken years ago,” Scorpion called out from behind them. Touching Greta’s sleeve, Shadow gave her an imploring look. His expression bled something poignant. Love. Had to be, because how could a biker not love her?
“Babe, I love you,” he confessed in a hushed tone. “Always have. Everyone loves you. Greta, you belong here.”
“Are you fucking serious, Shadow? Why didn’t you come to me years ago?”
“I tried. God knows, I tried. I was going to leave the Horsemen for you. I went to your college. Found you studying in a coffee shop. Another student stopped by your table and started talking to you. You were happy, laughing like I’d never seen before and I knew that I couldn’t take you away from that. You’d built a hard-won life, and I had nothing to offer you except a future in another club. If I had shown myself, you’d have left with me, so I left before you realized I was there.”
He took a step closer to her. Greta detached herself from Cutter and Shadow took her hand. “Greta, you belong with the Horsemen. You can right past wrongs and make the club what it was meant to be. A club your mom would be proud of.”
She dropped her head into his chest. Over Greta’s bent head, Shadow locked eyes with Cutter and bared his teeth. He gritted out, “You can’t offer the same.”
Cutter’s heart crashed against his ribcage. The fucker was right. Greta easily belonged with them. He told her he owned her but staring down at her head cushioned against Shadow’s heart, the choice had to ultimately be hers. Yes, she had returned to him, but that could have been motivated by jealousy and possessiveness. Had she submitted to him fully, in her heart and soul? He wasn’t completely sure. After all, her running out on him hadn’t been exclusively about the arrest.
The son of a bitch was right. He had something she’d wanted since she was a kid, long before she’d met Cutter. The Horsemen were her kin. Greta was a princess to her core, and he couldn’t rip the offer out of her hands and selfishly bind her to him. Around the lump in his throat, he called, “Greta.” She turned around in Shadow’s arms, streaks of mascara and tears tracked down her cheeks. “You’ve got a choice to make.”
“What are you talking about?”
“There’s shit you gotta work out with the Horsemen.” His gaze lifted briefly to Shadow. “I’m trusting you’ll be safe here while you do it. Loki will be comin’ with Kite and his p
osse to deal with the trespassing issue. It will give you time to work out what you want to do, where you want to be.”
Greta shoved Shadow’s limbs away from her. Charging up to him, she exclaimed, “What the hell are you talking about, Cutter? You leaving me?”
His hand reached out to caress her softly. “Never, brave girl. I’m giving you time. Time to figure out what you really want. Remember when I said that I didn’t want to look over my shoulder each time some shit went down. I’m making sure you do you. You gotta find out if there’s anything here you want bad enough to stay. I love you too damn much to bully you into staying with me. We got back together, but I’m giving us the chance to do this right.” His tone dropped to an intimate octave, “Believe me, if you choose to submit to me, there will be no going back.”
Her gaze skittered away from his.
“See, you’re hesitating. If our relationship is to be complete, I won’t tolerate an ounce of uncertainty. Our kind of understanding requires complete submission. Do you understand me?”
Greta stood still, eyes blinking, but he had to step away fast before he lost his determination. Nodding once to Shadow, he spun on his heel and shouldered his way through the guards. Down the hallway, he paused for a moment, waiting to see if she’d run out.
“Fucking hell,” he cursed. He tore past the waiting room and slammed open the door to the stairway. Taking three steps at a time, he jumped to the landing of the next floor and then flew down to the lobby. Without a word, he passed the chatty receptionist and went out into the muggy, dense night. He jogged to his bike before he lost his nerve, revved it up, and skidded out of the parking lot.
Chapter Forty-Two
Greta lifted her face from her hands. Shadow’s arms were wrapped around her and crushed her against him until she could barely breathe. “Babe, you’re safe here. Stay with me.”
A disbelieving laugh escaped her. Squinting up at him, she said, “You can’t imagine how many times I’ve waited to hear those words from you. Too many to count. Even today, sitting by the bar at the clubhouse, I thought I wanted to hear that.” She shook her head in wonder. “Even if they’re true, it doesn’t matter anymore. My place is with someone else.”
Cutter's Claim: A Bad Boy Biker Romance (The Demon Squad MC Book 2) Page 22