The Cut(19)

     



 

"Evidently, a damn good orgasm." He kissed her forehead. "You scared the shit outta me."

She nodded and opened her eyes. "Wow."



Two days later, Stake found Santana sitting on the back porch swing he'd  put up for her the previous evening. He handed her a beer and sat  beside her. "I have to go to San Antonio on Thursday, but I thought you  might want to take the trip to the cemetery tomorrow. If we leave early  enough, we should be there and back before dark."

She took a sip of her beer. "I don't think I'm ready to go to the  cemetery." She lifted his arm and draped it over her as she snuggled  against his side. "I may never be ready."

"What about your mom's ashes?" He understood that she was still  processing the realization that her own father had been attracted to  her, but he wanted her to have the closure with Ellie that he felt she  needed.

She buried her face against his chest. "Is it wrong that I don't care  about what happens to them? I keep thinking about how miserable she made  my life, and a part of me wants to defy her wishes in death." She  looked up at Stake. "I've never been to Dad's grave, and I don't think  I'm ready. When he killed that cop, he killed my future, not that he  gave a shit because the club always came first." Her eyes drifted shut  as she hugged Stake. "For the first time in my life, I don't want to  worry what either of them would think of my actions. I'm doing this for  me, because it's what I need right now."

He wanted to tell her about Cecil's involvement in the shooting, but  club business was just that, and telling her the truth would only put  her in jeopardy. He kissed the top of her head. "When you're ready, just  let me know."

She nodded but didn't look at him or speak.

Their peaceful moment was interrupted by the sound of a car in the  driveway. "I swear I'm going to put up a damn security gate," he  mumbled.

Santana's body went rigid. "Do you think they're here for me?"

He gave her a deep kiss before getting to his feet. "Stay here, and I'll  get rid of whoever it is." He jumped off the porch and walked around to  the side of the cabin. As soon as he saw the cherry red Crossfire, he  groaned.

When he saw no sign of Rachel, he stalked to the front of the house.  There she was in all her bleached and silicone glory. "What're you doing  here?" he asked before she could knock on the front door.

Rachel spun around to face him. "Dad told me you have that Rogers slut  living here. I came by to see if it was true." She came toward him with  fire in her bright blue eyes.

He held up his hand. "Get off my property," he warned, so pissed he  wanted to wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze. "And if I ever  hear you refer to Santana that way again, I'll forget you're a woman."

Crossing her arms, Rachel purposely tried to display her big, fake tits  to their best advantage. "Everyone's talking about how you've gone crazy  over that bitch. How do you think that makes me feel?"

Stake tilted his head from side to side, popping his neck, in an attempt  to control his anger. Unfortunately, it didn't work. He grabbed her by  the upper arm in a bruising grip and jerked her toward her car as he  walked. Santana had suffered years of verbal abuse from people like  Rachel, and he be goddamned if he'd let her taint the home he was trying  to build with Santana. He opened the door with such force he was  surprised the metal didn't buckle, but he wouldn't have given a shit if  it had. He caught Santana out of the corner of his eye and knew she was  watching and probably wondering who Rachel was.

Before shoving Rachel back in her car, he leaned in until they were nose  to nose so only she could hear him. "If you ever bring your skank ass  to my home again, I'll fucking kill you. And if I ever hear you talking  about Santana, I'll tell the whole club that you're pussy's rancid shit,  and they should stay away." He grinned at the disbelieving expression  on her face. "Yeah, even your father. I think he deserves to know just  what a whore his perfect, little princess is."

"I'm not afraid of you," she spat.

With his hands braced on the roof of the car, he leaned down. "You  should be, but in case you really believe I won't lay a hand on you  because you're a woman, maybe I'll give Santana back her knife and tell  her what you said about her."

Rachel's face went pale. Before she could spout more venom, he stepped  back and slammed her door shut. He stood there until she peeled out of  his drive before turning to face Santana. "I'm sorry about that."         

     



 

Without a word, she turned and disappeared around the back of the house.

"Shit." With a sigh, he went after her. He jumped onto the porch to find  she'd resumed her seat on the swing. He wasn't good at apologies, but  he knew he owed her one, so he dropped down beside her. "That was  Rachel, Magic's daughter," he began.

"Yeah. I remember her. I'm assuming she's one of your girlfriends?"

"No." He stretched his arm across the back of the swing and buried his  fingers in her hair. "I fucked her a couple of times, but that's all it  was. I told her that at the time and a couple since. Had I known she was  a batshit crazy bitch, I'd have never done it the first place." He slid  his hand down to Santana's shoulder and pulled her closer. "I'm sorry  she came here, but she won't be back." He knew he needed to prepare her  for future run-ins, though. "If she ever tries to give you a hard time,  you need to take that bitch down. It's the only way you'll earn the  respect of the other old ladies."

"I'm used to being on the receiving end of pain, so I'm not sure I could  intentionally hurt someone." Her breath caught with a tiny gasp. "I  hurt Gordon." She covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh my God, I just  realized that."

He tilted her chin up. "Don't. Gordon deserved everything he got and more. Do not blame yourself."

She shook her head. "I don't. It's just hard to believe that I fought  back for the first time in my life." Tears filled her eyes. "I've been  worried that something was wrong with me because I didn't feel bad about  what happened to me, but I think I just realized that I didn't see  myself as a victim because I fought back," she said, drawing the last  three words out.

"Fuck." He ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to get it off  his face. He'd thought only of the attack on her not what she'd done to  protect herself. "You're right," he agreed.

"I need you to teach me how to shoot a gun," she proclaimed, squaring her shoulders.

There was something in the tone of her voice that bothered him … resolve  maybe? "I'll teach you, but are we talking self-defense, or are you  going to go on some sort of rampage against everyone who's ever hurt  you?"

Santana bit her bottom lip. "There's only one person I plan to get even with."

"No!" he growled. "I told you, I'll take care of Gordon. As soon as the heat dies down a bit, he'll get what's coming to him."

She straddled his lap and faced him. "And if you get caught?" Tears  filled her eyes. "You've shown me more kindness in a week than I've ever  known. Losing you isn't something I can survive."

He grabbed her ass and pulled her closer, smashing his mouth against  hers. He put all the love he had for her into the kiss, trying like hell  to convey with actions how deeply his feelings went. For the first time  in his life, he felt loved, and he would do anything for her. How the  hell could he make her understand?

He broke the kiss, and rested his forehead on her shoulder. Fuck, he  wished he was good with words. Maybe if he shared a piece of himself,  she would realize that she was the only woman who could break down his  defenses. It wouldn't be enough, he knew that, but it was a start. "You  know that biker names are given, right?"

"Yeah, well, I know Dad got his because he was a petty smash and grab hoodlum in his younger days."

"Do you know where I got mine?" he asked. He'd never told anyone the story he was about to share with her.

"No." She ran her fingers through his hair, knowing the action always soothed him.

"My name's Jakob, but ever since I could remember, my mom's called me  Stake. I thought it was cool when I started school because I was the  only kid in kindergarten with a biker name." He took a breath, needing a  moment to compose himself. "When I was in the fifth grade, we had to  draw a family tree, but I had no idea who my father was. I went home  after school, and my mom was drinking. I think her newest boyfriend was  there, but I don't remember who he was."

He shook his head. "Doesn't matter. They never stayed, anyway. So, I  start asking my mom questions because my project was due the next day.  She told me she didn't know who my father was, and that I was a drunken  mistake that should've never happened, which is where my nickname came  from." It took everything he had to breathe after admitting to the woman  he loved that his own mom still considered him a mistake.