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His name had been on the news. A rap sheet as long as my arm with a string of warrants for unpaid child support to four kids from three different moms.
No one was mourning the man’s death. Least of all me. But I would feel like I was to blame somehow if Cato got in trouble for being the one to end his miserable life.
But when the news leaked that Cutter hadn’t been shot, I breathed a sigh of relief. If Cato had killed him some other way, the evidence was long gone. Cutter had been identified through dental records because he’d been so burned.
It was over.
Maybe I should have felt weird about the killing. But, I mean, I knew what I was getting into with Cato. His club wasn’t the weekend warrior sort. They were one-percenters. They did illegal shit for a living. And that illegal shit, undoubtedly, meant there were feuds with enemies that ended in bloodshed occasionally.
I mean… Cato had been shot in the stomach.
Any illusions I had about his job not being dangerous disappeared the first time I saw that scar.
The thing was, it didn’t bother me.
My feelings would be entirely different if I knew that innocents were getting hurt. But this was strictly business shit.You fuck with us, we fuck with you.
Besides, I was no saint.
I believed down to my bones that I was capable of killing someone in the right situation. I actually think most people are.
So there was no reason for me to go around like I was the morality police when I knew I was capable of the same thing.
Besides, in a dark and twisted sort of way, I was flattered. He’d tracked down the man who’d hurt me, and he’d made him pay.
“Rynn,” Josie called, snapping me out of my swirling thoughts.
Reaching for the remote, I turned off the office TV.
“What’s up?” I asked, giving her a smile.
“I asked how things with Cato are going,” she said, hearts all in her eyes.
“They’re… good.”
“Why the hesitation?”
“I’m not used to all of this,” I admitted, shrugging. “I don’t know what to say.”
“I mean, you’re spending every spare minute together,” she said.
That was true.
Some nights, he drove out to Miami. Others, I went to Golden Glades.
“We do. It’s nice. It’s kinda two different worlds, there and here.”
When I was at the clubhouse, we spent a big chunk of our time around his club brothers. I wasn’t complaining. I loved them. Even the crazy-ass new guy, Coast. And the standoffish, quiet lumberjack named York. Velle, he was harder to decide what my feelings were regarding him.
I mean, he was very nice.
Very easy to talk to.
Too easy to talk to.
Within thirty minutes of sitting next to him by the pool, I was suddenly confessing all sorts of personal shit about my nonexistent relationship with my mom. And I just… I didn’t do that kind of thing.
It was almost unsettling how easy he was to talk to.
