8. Ivy
8
IVY
I know I shouldn’t be doing this.
Every instinct I have is screaming at me to stop and turn back. Just forget about Slate and figure out a way to deal with the threat to my dad’s shop.
But I can’t.
My body is now an engine fueled by pure betrayal and anger, and there’s no stopping me until I find out the truth.
I’ve spent my whole life being my dad’s sweet, innocent daughter. I was off-limits. The workshop was my life, and I lived by his rules. But I’m done playing it safe. Right now, my world is unraveling, and I’m the only one who can grab the threads and pull them back together.
I pull up to the Heartless Bastards’ clubhouse lot like a madwoman, kicking up dust as I slam on the brakes, nearly killing a couple of guys standing outside smoking. They’re about to cuss me out as I leap down into the dirt, but when they see who I am, they back off. Being Frank Calloway’s daughter has its advantages.
It may be morning, but you’d never know that from what’s going on inside. Smoke, booze, girls hanging over grinning men, rock music blaring. I catch people looking at me as I stride over to Saxon, who is sitting at the bar with a pretty woman sitting happily in his lap.
“Ivy!” He smiles. “Have you met my wife, Tammy? Tammy, this is Ivy. Her dad’s our mechanic–”
“Where is he?” I interrupt. I don’t have time for niceties.
Saxon frowns. His beautiful wife glances back at him. She seems like someone I’d like to know in the future. If I somehow manage to salvage this crazy situation.
“What’s going on?” he asks.
“I just…need to find him,” I reply. I’m honestly shocked Slate’s not here rallying the troops to defend my dad’s shop. But then again, he’s not a Heartless Bastard anymore.
“You should go home, Ivy,” Saxon sighs. “This situation…is not great.”
“Tell me,” I snap.
He groans, shaking his head. “He’s with them. ”
My stomach twists. My blood turns to slush. “With who?”
Saxon’s gaze darkens, and his lips tighten. “The Smoke and Skulls, Ivy. Right where he started out.”
So it’s true.
He was one of them.
I don’t know what I was expecting. For the picture to be a forgery? For it to all be some misunderstanding? And it makes sense, given his strange behavior at the shop and the way he raced out of there.
“I will fix this.” His words still ring in my mind.
But how, Slate?
I don’t want to accept it. I close my eyes and inhale, trying not to be sick. “No. Why would he not tell me about that?”
Saxon shrugs. “We all have our secrets. Maybe it’s why he had no problem bailing on the Bastards.”
I brace myself against the bar, fighting back a panic attack. “Where’s their clubhouse?” I ask.
“No,” Saxon replies. “You can’t go there, Ivy. It’s not safe.”
“If Slate is there, I’ll be safe.” I hear what I’m saying, but do I truly believe it? Slate lied to me. His old gang trashed my dad’s shop. Do I even know who he actually is?
Saxon stares back at me for a long, difficult moment. I see him processing. Finally, he speaks. “I can see you’re not gonna take no for an answer.” He reaches down and scribbles on a napkin and hands it to me. “That’s the address.”
“Can’t you go with her?” Tammy suggests. Saxon shakes his head.
“If they see a Heartless Bastard there, it’ll start a turf war.” He turns back to me and gives me an intense, compassionate look. “Please, don’t go , Ivy. Forget Slate. Move on.”
He’s right. I know he is. Letting Slate go is the rational thing to do.
But that’s the thing about love. It’s not rational.
And right now, I’m on some out-of-control spiral, desperately fighting to salvage our relationship. Because when I’m with Slate, I feel grounded. Secure, adored, treasured. And if I let go of that, if it all comes crashing down around me, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to recover.
“I can’t.”
My body is shaking through the long drive to the Smoke and Skulls clubhouse. This is the wrong thing to do, but I have no choice. I have to know.
The clubhouse is grungy, with rusted metal walls and busted pallets and trash spread all over the place. There’s a sketchy looking guy sitting on a milk crate by the door, who looks up as I walk over to him.
“I’m looking for Slate.”
“Who the hell are you?” he barks.
“His sister. He said he’d be here.”
He eyes me up and down, sending a creeped-out shiver through me. I try not to let him see how terrified I am. My instincts are telling me to run. But after a moment, he grins, stands, and opens the door for me. “Welcome.”
Well, that was weird. And a lot easier than I expected, but I’m not about to turn down the opportunity. So I step inside directly into a wall of rough male voices, the clinking of bottles, and the grinding of metal.
And then, their eyes all turn to me.
Scarred-up men in leather jackets with Smoke and Skull patches turn and stare, their eyes keen, like they already know why I’m here. Like they were expecting me.
And then I realize–
I’ve just walked into a trap.
I spin around, my heart hammering in my chest, only to come face to face with a gruff man who looks like he could tear me in half. He’s so close I can smell the cigarette he just smoked. And he’s grinning like a murderer.
“Now, now, Ivy. Don’t be rude. Stick around for a while.”
He knows my name.
Adrenaline courses through me. I’m sweating. Saxon was right. I should not have come here.
“I’m Viper.” He smiles sickly. “Leader of the Smoke and Skulls. How’s your day going?”
I try to dart around him and get to the door, but he grabs me easily by the arm. His fingers dig into my flesh like his hands are vises. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, there. Take it easy, girly.”
I cry out as he forces me deeper into the smoky room. I try to thrash against his grip, but it’s no use. He’s a giant compared to me.
“Look who made it, boys!” His triumphant call is met with cheers and claps, hoots and hollers. “May not have gotten the mom, but we got the daughter!”
My jaw drops. I feel like I’ve been speared in the stomach.
That’s what this is all about? It’s been nine years since my mom tried to sell me to pay for her debt. I thought my dad had settled it. I thought I was safe.
I thought wrong.
“What does Smoke and Skull get, boys!?” he calls out, and like a battle-cry, the entire house roars back–
“Whatever we want!”
I’m gasping for breath, my chest heaving, as Viper sweeps a table clean of its mess and pushes me down on top of it. I thrash and kick to no avail as two other Skulls rush over and grab my limbs, restraining me.
“Help!” I scream, drawing laughter from the crowd of men.
“Yeah, nobody’s gonna hear you, sweet thing.” Viper grins. “Had this place soundproofed years ago. Just so…well, you can imagine why.”
I’m gonna have a heart attack. I’m sure of it.
I never should have come here. I should have listened to Dad. I should have listened to Saxon. They both tried to warn me. I never should have gotten involved with Slate in the first place.
But where is Slate?
Saxon said he was here.
Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he had nothing to do with this. Maybe he really is trying to fix things somehow, and Saxon just made the wrong assumption about him. Maybe–
But that’s when I see it. A head of shaggy, dirty blond hair, towering over the others. The world seems to go into slow-motion as Slate approaches, cutting through the crowd, and when his stormy blue eyes finally come into view, my heart shatters.
“No…” I whimper, my voice not even a breath. “It can’t be.”
“And cheers to this man!” Viper cries out, raising a fist in the air, his eyes locked on Slate as he strides toward me. “The one who made it all possible!”
I can’t breathe. My world is burning. The vile hands gripping my skin are like brands, flaying my flesh with their loathsome intent.
He really is here. He really did betray me.
Every last ounce of hope I had in my body disappears. My last bit of hope gives way, leaving me a hollow shell splayed out on the table, helpless, defenseless against whatever they plan to do with me next.
I try to meet his eyes with mine, to try and find one last flicker of humanity within him that might save me from feeling forsaken.
But he won’t look at me.
His eyes are fixed on Viper, narrow and blazing, like he’s proud of what he’s done.
“Never could have made this happen without you, Slate!” he continues. “The way you led us right to–”
“Get. Your. Hands. Off her.”
My heart leaps as the words march from Slate’s lips. Did he really just say what I think he said? Or am I imagining things?
Slate stops beside me, his chest heaving, fists clenched at his sides. He looks ready to explode, and Viper’s men can see it too as they close in around him.
“Relax, brother,” Viper sneers. “You knew what was gonna happen–”
“I’m not gonna say it again,” Slate growls.
The air is tense. What is happening? The entire clubhouse was just cheering for Slate, and now he’s acting like he wants to rescue me? Nothing makes sense.
Slate pulls a knife from his pocket and shows it to Viper. “You let her go or lose your hand. Your choice.”
The grips on my limbs loosen as Viper’s men get ready for trouble. The moment draws out, long and torturous, and then finally, Slate meets my eyes with his, and I see it.
Love.
He does love me.
I don’t even get a chance to smile before all hell breaks loose. Viper leaps up, and Slate’s fist crashes into his jaw, sending him sprawling backwards, toppling a table. The whole bar erupts into chaos.
“Ivy, get out of here!” Slate shouts, ripping through the room, slashing through men with his knife, destroying anything and anyone around him. “Now!”
I want to stay. Help him. But what could I possibly do? Maybe if I had a gun or pepper spray, but these men are twice my size at least.
Someone grabs me from behind, iron arms clamping around my waist, lifting me into the air. I scream and snap my head back, breaking someone’s nose. He groans and falls, taking me with him.
I fight, claw, kick myself free of his grasp and leap to my feet, my eyes locking on to the storm of lethality that is Slate.
There’s blood everywhere. Men are closing in on him from all sides.
I have to get help, and fast.
I whirl and race for the door, darting around a man who tries to grab me up. I fall and roll as I spill outside and quickly reach for my phone to call the police. But that’s when I see the pair of boots in front of me.
Saxon reaches a hand down and helps me to my feet, the entire gang of Heartless Bastards behind him, ready for war.
“You’re here!” I blurt out, confused. “But you said–”
“I couldn’t let you get yourself killed,” he says, gripping a steel pipe. “How would we do business with Frank after that?”
I open my mouth to speak, but Saxon smirks and pushes past me, followed by the rest of the Bastards. I turn and watch as he tears the door open and he and the boys rush headfirst into the chaos.
That’s when my legs give out from under me.
I fall on my ass in the dirt, my head spinning and vision blurred. I can’t even process what’s happening, how I ended up here or why.
But I guess time will tell. And after this is all over, Slate will have some serious explaining to do.
If he even survives.