Royal Sons MC

Chapter Three

Tymber wasn’t surewhat had made Ivy retreat from him, but he’d be damned if he allowed it. There was something about the woman who was dressed to kill, yet her demeanor was that of a woman in need of saving. He watched and waited for her to process his declaration.

Ivy let out a deep breath. “You should get going. It sounds like Carly needs.”

He almost smiled. Only knowing Ivy might kick him with those black boots kept him from following through with it. Nope, he definitely wasn’t going to crack a shit-eating grin, even though he understood why she was backing away. Jealousy was a bitch, one that he didn’t usually like seeing on a woman he wanted. However, with the gorgeous Ivy, he found he liked it. “My sister tends to go into theatrics when one of her offspring is a little hard to handle. Hence the frantic call. My nephew is giving her fits,” he explained.

Wariness clouded her gorgeous green eyes. “You better get going then.” She tilted her head toward his bike.

“You gonna give me your number?” He ran the back of his fingers down her cheek, the softness of it making him wish they’d had more time together. If she didn’t give him her number, he wasn’t sure how he’d track her down. Of course, he could call a friend who could run her plates, but that would only cause him grief. Sure as shit, his buddy would demand he explain before he’d run them. How would he explain the crazy need to see Ivy again? He had this need to make sure she was safe and happy. Shit, maybe it would be better if she denied him her digits.

“What’s your number?” Ivy asked instead.

His brows rose, and then he rattled off his number, thinking she’d never call. Ivy pulled her phone out of her bag and typed in his number. He figured she’d delete it once she was away from him. The sound of his phone ringing made the grin he’d fought earlier appear. He slipped his cell out of his back pocket, keeping his eyes locked on hers. “Hello?” he said into the phone, hoping it was Ivy, hating the thought it wasn’t.

Silence met his words. Ivy let out a deep breath. “There’s my number.”

Tymber quickly added her to his contacts. “You’ve got mine too. Are you going to answer if I call?”

Ivy laughed. “You act as though women turn you down, Tymber. If they have, then you’re either a dick once they get to know you, or you have a small dick, which for the record, I’m not asking, just saying.”

He stepped closer to Ivy, eyeing the way her tongue peeked out to lick over her lips. Fuck, he wanted to do the same thing, replacing her tongue with his. “I can’t say I’ve never been a dick, but I can assure you the size of my dick has never been an issue, except that it might be too big. However, I’m a patient man, so even those complaints I can erase.”

Her throat worked as she swallowed. “Good to know.”

“I’ll call you tonight.” He made it a statement. There would be no stalking or calling her if she didn’t answer him when he called the first time.

“My phone will be on. See you, lumberjack.” She moved back, then rounded her vehicle, leaving him alone on the sidewalk.

“Yeah, you will,” he promised her. Shit, he needed to have his head examined, he thought while watching her tail lights disappear around the corner. Walking over to his bike, he grabbed the skull cap he never rode without and strapped it on. The familiar rumble of the bike usually eased his mind, giving him a respite from reality. However, the vision of Ivy standing on her toes outside a meeting for suicide survivors and those who were on the edge kept him from shutting down. “After I deal with Carly, I’ll call her. If she doesn’t pick up, I’ll leave a message, but then the ball would be in her court,” he muttered while easing into traffic.

A short time later...

“Carly, you need to be consistent with the kids. You can’t give them their way one day, then expect them not to be pissed when you deny them the next. If you don’t want Carl hanging out with certain friends, letting him go to a party with them last week, yet telling him he can’t be friends with them, isn’t going to sit well.” He took the cold bottle of water his sister held out. He was thirty-two to her forty-five. Times like these made him wonder how she’d gotten through life without falling flat on her face.

“Tymber, there are reasons for everything. For one, the party I let my fifteen-year-old son go to last week was monitored by adults. This one isn’t. Hell, the kid he wanted to go with drove a sportscar like a...teen let loose for the first time. I didn’t want to see my son get in with him. I don’t know how to explain it, but I have a feeling he wouldn”t come home. Call it mother’s intuition, but that’s what I got.”

He walked around the kitchen counter and pulled his sister into his arms. Like him, she had dark brown hair and brown eyes. In her mid-forties, she was in better shape than most women in their twenties. She kept her mind and body fit as her way of saying fuck off to her ex. “I don’t question your motives, sis. I hate seeing you upset like this. Where’s CJ at?” His nephew was Carl Junior, but he hated it when people called him that. Why his sister had married the douche, Carl, making them that couple with matching names, he would never know. Their twenty-year marriage had fallen apart three years ago after Carly found out he’d been screwing around on her for the last five years. He wondered if the man had not cheated but hadn’t said that to Carly. After all, Carl Senior was now spending a fifteen-year jail sentence, thanks to his fall from grace and into the arms of a junkie who set him up. Karma was a bitch, but when she came calling, snaring Carl in a sting operation, nobody in his family cared.

“He’s in his room sulking. I tried to talk to him, but he wouldn’t open the door, and he’s not returning my calls or texts,” Carly said, her tone filled with hurt, and so was her demeanor.

Back when he’d been a teen, throwing a hissy fit like CJ would’ve been the last thing he would’ve done. He made his way down the hallway after he’d assured his sister he’d talk with her son. Shit, he wondered when he’d become the wise one, then chuckled. At CJ’s door, he could hear the pounding beat of heavy metal. Two sharp raps on the door didn’t elicit a response, but unlike his sister, he wouldn’t allow a little thing like that to keep him out. Reaching the ledge above the door to his sister’s room, he found the key she kept there. “I hope you’re decent and not jacking off to online porn,” he muttered as he opened the door.

“Hardy har har, Uncle Tymber. What did my mom do, call you in for reinforcements?” CJ asked without turning to look toward the door.

“Something like that,” he agreed. Never would he lie to the boy if he could help it.

“Well, you can return and tell her I’m being a good little boy. See...” He moved aside to show Tymber what was on the screen. Not that he’d actually thought the kid would be watching porn...but seeing some document he’d been working on had him relaxing.

Tymber walked a few feet from the door to where his nephew sat. Leaning against the desk, he faced CJ. “You know your mother only has your best interest in mind when she gives an order.”

“Well, my best interests weren’t to be kept from attending Dillon’s party just because his parents weren’t home. It’s like she doesn’t trust me.” Sadness wafted from the boy. Having your dad locked up for drug trafficking and a mother who kept the apron strings too tight had to be hard.

He spent a half hour with CJ, looking over his paper and explaining what could happen if the party was busted. Even though he was sullen, he agreed he didn’t want to be anywhere near the police, especially with his father’s name still floating in the air. His sister had been lucky when she’d finally divorced the man, or he would’ve drug her and their children down the rabbit hole he was in.

The kitchen was empty, but he knew where to find Carly. By the pool with a book and a glass of water with lemon. He shook his head as he stepped out the patio door, taking in the serene picture of the sun setting and the crisp, clean air.

“I just got a text from CJ. I guess your talk did him good?” She lifted the glass and took a sip, laying the book on her lap.

“Yeah, he’s still mad, but he understands you were only looking out for him. You might want to talk to him. You know, before beginning with the yelling.” He sat on the lounger across from her, his elbows resting on his thighs, waiting.

“Tymber, you can’t always be their friend when you’re the parent. Yes, I could’ve talked him through my reasoning instead of grounding him, but damn, the boy knows how to push my buttons,” she growled.

Oh, he knew all about pushing a parent’s button, especially a mother’s. Before they’d lost their mom to breast cancer, he’d always pushed buttons or envelopes, whatever he could, to get his way. Hell, at thirty-two, there wasn’t much he hadn’t done that he wanted. “You don’t owe the kid a reason. A little respect goes a long way. Remember, he’s a straight-A student and has goals. Trust him enough to talk with him before you start the yelling. And while I’m doling out advice, may I suggest you not do it via text?” He lifted his chin toward the pink phone on the table.

Carly blinked, her eyes swimming with tears. “It’s hard, Tymber. I only want what’s best for him, but he acts like I’m the worst mother in the world when I don’t let him have his way. Throwing up his grades doesn’t make it okay for him to go to a party with no chaperones.”

Tymber agreed with Carly. He hoped his nephew truly did acknowledge his mom only did things for his wellbeing. “I gotta go.” He stood up, hugging Carly as she, too, stood.

“Thanks for coming up and putting out my fires,” she joked.

Seated on his Harley as he headed toward his home, he thought of Ivy and her reasoning for being outside a meeting but not going in. All through their little coffee...he couldn’t call it a date, but it was something, something he wanted to explore further.

IVY RECOGNIZED DARIAN’Scar outside the flat she shared with him and Luke. Her heart twisted in her chest, making it hard to breathe. “Get your shit together, girl,” she muttered then winced. Whenever she’d been nervous or upset, she’d always talked to herself, except when Luke had been there, which, looking back, had been almost her entire life. Now, he was gone, and there was this huge hole where he had been in her life. She felt as though she were swimming against the current. The saying ‘Life isn’t finding shelter in the storm but about learning to dance in the rain’ flittered into her mind.

“That’s what I’m going to get inked on me.” It felt as though all she’d done was let the rain that was her shitshow of life wash her away instead of standing tall with an umbrella over her head, telling the storm to do its worst.

She pushed the door to her Bronco open, making her way to the entrance where her life seemed to be left hanging. Inside, she climbed the steps to the upstairs apartment. Her boots sounded loud in the empty hallway, but she’d never been one to walk quietly, yet she wondered if that annoyed others. Seeing the door left ajar sent fear slithering down her spine. With her phone in one hand, she pushed the door open with her foot. “Darian, you home?”

A noise from the living room had her moving as silently as she could. “I’ve already called 911,” she lied.

Darian lifted his head from the leather sofa, his hand holding his nose that looked like he’d been in a fight. “You’re such a bad liar, Ivy.” His words were muffled by the towel he held to his face.

Bruising around both eyes had already appeared. “What the fuck happened here?” The apartment seemed to have been trashed, like those after a weekend bender. Not that she or Luke had ever had one of them at the apartment, but she’d been to enough parties the Royal MC had thrown. Only the damage looked more deliberate than what would happen during a party.

“Some of the Royal Sons showed up and didn’t like to see me here. Shit, this is the last thing I wanted or needed in my life. Luke—” He choked up.

Moving to sit next to him, she paused, retraced her steps, and shut the door, swearing when her eyes landed on the busted door. “Those fuckers broke the door down?” she asked, sitting down next to him.

“I came home to find them already here. I guess they wanted inside enough that even a locked door wouldn’t keep them out.” He pulled the towel away from his nose.

“Good lord, you need to get that fixed. It looks broken.” Her hand reached for the bloody towel.

“Aren’t you scared I’ll infect you with my gay blood?” Darian let her take the towel away. “I now understand why Luke didn’t want to come out to the club. Fuck, if I could’ve, I’d have walked away from him years ago. I loved him, Ivy. Why wasn’t I enough to keep him from...” His words that were left unsaid broke her heart.

“Darian, listen to me. You weren’t the problem, and neither was Luke. The MC may accept many things, but he didn’t think they’d allow him to come around, even though his brothers are the Prez and his VP. Hell, the entire MC was created by his family like a hundred years ago. Luke was scared to lose his brothers, whether they be of blood or cut.” That was one of the reasons she’d agreed to pretend to be his girlfriend all these years. Luke thought he’d only be accepted if he had an ole’ lady. He didn’t want to be a full-fledged member, unlike his brothers, who were not only members but also the president and vice president. Yet he didn’t want to be cut off from them either. Life had really fucked with him, but she’d loved him.

“I’m moving back home,” Darian whispered.

She jerked back, taking in her best friend’s boyfriend’s appearance. He was a blond Adonis with blue eyes and a muscled physique. “You mean, home to Iowa?”

Darian nodded, tossing the bloody rag onto the leather ottoman that served as the coffee table. “Are you being rash? I mean, yeah, this place is a mess, but I’m sure they won’t be back.” If the MC wanted to make a statement, beating the shit out of Darian was it. She hoped. Damn, she hated the uncertainty her life had become.

“I came out here for Luke. I like my job at Pump, but it’s not what I planned for my life. Look at me. I’m a twenty-five-year-old gay man living with my deceased boyfriend’s supposed girlfriend in the place he took his life. Every day, I wake up wishing it were a bad dream. It’s a fucking nightmare that I pray I can wake from, only to find it’s my new reality. I can’t stay here and keep my sanity,” he cried.

Ivy pulled him to her, wishing there was something she could do. Too many times, she woke with the horror of knowing her best friend had taken his life. “God, this sucks,” she choked out.

“I was actually packing before I went out to grab something to eat. It was when I came back that I found the two men in leather vests tearing shit up. Can you believe I yelled at them? How stupid was that?” His blue eyes implored her to understand.

“Did they ruin any of your stuff?” she asked, not wanting to get into what had happened. Luke’s death was too fresh of a wound for them to talk about. However, she thought that by having Darian there, at least one person would be able to understand what she was going through. An image of Tymber appeared. His openness made her wish she had met him before.

“Nah, nothing that can’t be replaced. Ivy, it’s not safe for you here. I think I was a warning to you.” He reached for her, taking her by the shoulders and giving her a firm shake. “Are you listening to me?”

“I know the MC, unlike you, Darian. I grew up with them and had my first beer with them. Trust me, they’re just blowing off steam. It’s been over a month since Luke—since that night. When do you leave?” she asked, changing the subject. Her internal alarm for danger was blaring. If the MC decided she was to blame, her life could be on the line.

“I already booked my flight. There’s nothing here except the clothes I want. I’ll help you clean up.” He stood abruptly, picked up the bloody towel, and swore. “I get why he didn’t want to tell the entire club, but why not his brothers? For that matter, how the fuck didn’t they know he preferred dudes to women?”

Ivy knew how, and that was why she felt so much guilt. Maybe if she’d encouraged him to be honest with King and Duke, they might’ve accepted his sexuality. She pictured King Royal, the president of the Royal Sons MC. Her hand flew to her chest as an image of his angry face appeared. “I should’ve made him tell King.”

“That would’ve been fun to see, Ivy Girl. Listen, why don’t you come with me? My family would welcome you with open arms, and you could start over.” He didn’t look up as he spoke, his intent to clean up the mess left by the assholes making him grunt in pain from their beating.

“Yeah, that would be the day. Imagine me on a farm in the middle of Iowa. I’m sure the entire town would flip if I went with you. Besides, this is my home.” She gestured toward the mess. Yes, Luke and she shared the place, but it was her name on the lease. “Plus, I just graduated. How many jobs do you think are in Iowa waiting for the likes of me?”

Darian looked her up and down, stopping once he met her eyes. “You could tone down the badass biker chick. You’re gorgeous, smart, and way too good for the jerks who did this.”

“Let’s just clean this mess up. I’ll help you get your stuff together.” Her mind was already on the tasks at hand. Replacing some of the broken pieces would be put on the back burner. Her fingers flew to her mouth. “Did they go into the bedrooms?” Her body jerked as she walked down the hallway toward her room, across from Luke’s and Darian’s.

“No, they must’ve just gotten in before I walked in on them. At first, I thought you’d come home, so I yelled for you. I think that was a big fat match to their flame. I didn’t have time to do anything except yelp when one of the big fuckers grabbed me by the neck, shoving me inside the door.”

Ivy and Darian worked through the rest of the evening, filling five large garbage bags with trash and things Darian said he no longer wanted or needed. Her hand brushed over the clothing left in the walk-in closet. The familiar scent of Luke’s cologne tickled her nose. When Darian sighed, she’d looked up to see the pain he couldn’t erase from his busted-up face. “I’ll see you again,” she whispered. She wasn’t sure if she meant Darian or Luke. She only knew her world was being rocked again. Fucking Royal MC and their bastard ways.

It was close to midnight. The apartment was silent, save for the clock on the wall ticking. Her mind wouldn’t settle. Fear was no longer something she seemed to feel. Everyone she’d cared about was gone now that Darian had left. “How pathetic, the only men in my life had loved each other, leaving me on the outside looking in.” That had been her life growing up. Luke was her angel when she needed him. His loss had a sob escaping before she could quell it. Her body moved on autopilot, double-checking that the newly replaced door with its three sets of deadbolts was locked. It would be a hell of a lot harder for the Sons to break down a steel door with deadbolts like she had installed.

Luckily, she’d known a locksmith who also replaced doors. He had grey hair that looked like he’d stuck his finger in a light socket, resembling Albert Einstein, but he was fast and efficient, everything she’d needed.

The moment he’d looked at the door and then her, he’d shook his head but didn’t say anything more until the new door was in place. Ivy had to bite her tongue to keep from telling him to mind his business, only holding the sharp retort in because he truly appeared genuine in his comments and suggestions.

Like she needed him, or anyone, to tell her to lock all three locks, or not to open the door unless she knew who was on the other side. Instead, she’d listened to him say what he wanted, thanked him for rushing to replace the busted door, and ensured she had one that was ten times better.

Now, hours later, that same door taunted her. If she and Luke had the door a month ago, maybe, just maybe, he’d still be alive. Instead, he and Darian had been making out on the couch when King had strolled in. She shuttered, imagining what the big man had looked like at that moment. Luke said he and Darian hadn’t been caught outright, but he worried King or Duke would find out. “Why didn’t I convince him to come out?” she asked, banging her head against the wall. The pain from the impact didn’t stop her from doing it again.

Getting up, she triple-checked the locks, then walked down the hallway, hating the emptiness of the apartment and her heart. Tomorrow, she’d see about a new place to live.