The Cut(21)

     



 

She decided to drop the conversation about Gordon. Although she hadn't  given up on her plan to kill the bastard before Stake did, she wouldn't  involve Tiny more than she already had. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

He let out a loud grunt. "A different one almost every night," he said, a chuckle in his voice. "The ladies love my cock."

Santana reached over and slapped him hard on the chest. Despite Tiny  trying to get into her pants as a young teenager, she'd always thought  of him more like a brother. "Gross. I don't need to hear that."

"It's true," he said unapologetically. "They also like to ride my face."  He held up his hands in a defensive position as soon as he said it,  knowing she'd try to whack him again.

"Nasty! You're a pig like the rest of them." She squeezed her legs  together, remembering the first time Stake had eaten her pussy. Fuck.  "Did Stake say what time he'd be home?"

Laughing, Tiny rose to his feet and headed for the water. "You'd better  cool that hot little body down ‘cuz he won't be back 'til late."

Dammit, had she been so obvious? With a sigh of resignation, she followed Tiny back into the lake.





Chapter Seven





The minute Tiny pulled up to Stake's house, he turned off his bike and  reached in his pocket. "My goddamn cell's been vibrating since we left  the lake," he said. He stared at the display, and his dark blond  eyebrows drew together. "It's Prez." He glanced back at Santana. "Sorry,  sweetheart, but I need to take this."

"No problem." She climbed off the bike before setting the helmet on the seat. "I'll be inside."

She hoisted herself onto the back porch, wondering why Stake had never  bothered to build stairs. The porch wasn't high off the ground, probably  only two feet or so, but while it was an easy step up for Stake, she  was only five-foot-five.

She used her key to enter the house before retrieving a bottle of water  from the refrigerator. Swimming had been fun after she'd recovered from  her meltdown, and she'd managed to get some nice color.

Tiny knocked before entering. "I've gotta go out for a while."

"Problem?" She asked, opening the fridge to hand him a bottle of water.

"Business, but I should only be gone a few hours."

She sighed. Stake had left money for grocery shopping, but Tiny was  supposed to go with her. She eyed the envelope of cash on the table. It  was stupid, but she'd really looked forward to shopping without worrying  about the total. Stake had been very clear that she was to load up on  junk food because he enjoyed eating shit while he watched baseball on  TV. "Will you be back in time for dinner? I thought I'd make meatloaf."

He groaned and rubbed his flat stomach. "Hell yeah, I'll be back. I fuckin' love meatloaf."

"Good." She finished her water and tossed the empty into the recycle bin  she'd created out of an old cardboard box lined with a trash bag.

"You have your phone?" he asked.

"Yep." Stake had insisted on buying her a new phone. She unplugged it from the charger on the counter.

Tiny walked over and gave her a peck on the forehead. "Sorry about this.  Stake'll probably kill me for leaving you alone, but at this point, I'm  more afraid of Cecil."

She waved off his concerns. "I'll be fine. I've spent most of my life  taking care of myself. I'm sure I can handle it for a few hours."

His expression darkened. He shook his head before giving her another  friendly kiss. "I like brown gravy with my meatloaf. You do it that  way?"

"I can." She didn't tell him it had been years since she'd had enough  money to buy the hamburger required for meatloaf, let alone splurge on  gravy.

"Stay safe," he called as he walked out the door.

She waited until she could no longer hear the sound of his Harley before  running to the bedroom to change into dry clothes and brush out her  hair. She grabbed the extra set of keys and the envelope before heading  out of the house.

Behind the wheel of Stake's truck, she took several deep breaths. It had  been close to three years since their old piece of shit car had finally  given up the fight, but she assumed driving was something you never  really forgot how to do. "You've got this," she repeated over and over  as she started the pickup and pulled out onto the road.

The drive went so well that she turned on the radio on the outskirts of  town. She was almost to downtown when flashing lights in her rearview  mirror caught her attention. Her immediate reaction was to stiffen and  glance down at her speedometer. She wasn't speeding, so what the fuck?  Pulling to the side of the road, she turned off the engine and started  searching her purse for her driver's license.         

     



 

"Fuck me," she groaned when she spotted Robby Langers walking toward the  truck in the driver's side mirror. She hadn't spoken to Robby since the  day she'd heard his douchebag jock friends talking smack about her. She  held out her license and the registration she'd retrieved from the  glove box. "I wasn't speeding," she said before he could speak.

Robby leaned his forearm against the door and stared straight at her  tits. "Looking good." When Santana flinched, he held up his hands and  took a step back. "It was just a compliment. Don't stab me." He started  to laugh like he'd told the funniest joke ever.

A "fuck you" was on the tip of her tongue, but she held it back. Robby  was the kind of dick who would arrest her at the slightest provocation.  "Why'd you stop me?"

Sobering, he glanced down at her license. "I haven't seen you drive for a  while. Thought it best to make sure you were still legal." He handed  her license and registration back. "And to give you a warning. Folks in  town aren't happy that you tried to file a false police report on  Sherriff Gordon. You might watch your back while you're in town."

She rolled her eyes and bit her bottom lip. "Can I leave?"

He eyed her for several moments before slapping his palm against the  side of the truck. "I wasn't kidding when I said you looked good. I'd  ask you out, but I heard you've shacked up with that piece of shit  biker."

Finished with the conversation, she started the truck and pulled back  onto the road without a reply. She couldn't believe that slime had the  nerve to think she would ever go out with him again.

By the time she parked in front of the grocery store, most of her  enthusiasm had waned. She tossed the keys into her purse and confirmed  she'd grabbed the envelope of cash before going inside.

Barb, the not so friendly cashier, stopped chatting with a customer to  stare at her as Santana fought to untangle a cart. She did her best to  ignore the whispered gossip that floated around her as she made her way  through the aisles. With absolutely no appetite, she found it difficult  to shop, but she loaded the cart with two boxes of cereal, chips, Coke  and Grape Crush before heading to the meat department. One thing Stake  had made clear since she'd begun to cook was that he required meat, and  lots of it, at every meal. She thoughtfully picked up enough hamburger,  steaks and pork chops and chicken to last the two weeks they'd still be  in Broken Ridge.

By the time she finished, she could barely maneuver the cart to the  check-out lane. As she started to unload her groceries, she caught Barb  staring at her. "Is there a problem?"

Barb gestured to the food piled on the conveyor belt. "You have enough  money to pay for all this?" She clucked her tongue. "Looks like you came  out ahead after stabbing Pete."

Tired of the bullshit, Santana dropped a twelve pack of Coke back into  the cart. "You know what? Fuck this. If you don't want to sell me  groceries, just say so, otherwise, shut your goddamn mouth, and do your  job."

Barb gasped and crossed her arms over her saggy tits. "How dare you speak to me that way, you piece of trash."

Santana was trying to calculate how long it would take for her to drive  to the next town with a grocery store when a middle-aged man she'd never  seen moved to stand next to Barb.

"Is there a problem?" he asked the cashier.

Before Barb could open her big mouth, Santana answered the question.  "Yes, there is. I've been shopping at this store my entire life, and  this woman has treated me like I didn't exist for most of those years."  She gestured to the mounds of food waiting to be scanned. "Now, I'm  trying to buy all this, and your employee feels the need to call me  trash and spout her fucking mouth about something she knows nothing  about."

The man looked at Barb. "Is that the truth?"

"She's the one who stabbed Sheriff Gordon," Barb replied. "We don't need her kind in here."

The handsome man scratched his jaw. "Well, since you don't own the  store, I can't see where that's your place to determine." His hands  moved to his hips. "I think it's best you take the rest of the day off  while I try and figure out if you still have a job come morning."