Page 25 of Ivy’s Poison

Heavily loaded with tactical gear, bodies jumped through the open sliding door. Before they were even done with their landing, the helicopter was lifting from the ground. The two well-trained men held on, totally expecting the urgent departure. With a baseball cap sitting low to shield his identity, Kay peered out the opening of the helicopter. “Any last words to your new friends, Bors?”

I held my aching chest. “I’ll be back motherfuckers.”

Bullets rang into the air from the ground. Ping! Ping! Ping! They hit the chopper but did no damage. Kay, not fazed in the slightest, actually laughed. “I think your invitation has been revoked.”

All I wanted to do was pass out in peace, but Slut, AKA Gawain, had other plans. His grill got in mine. “Just because you were busy being brought to the brink of death doesn’t mean I’m not in the lead.” He held up his cell phone to show me a rack made from heaven. “Check out these beauties.”

As my eyes involuntarily closed, I thought to myself, It sure is good to see you fuckers.

Ivy

Over the years, so much blood had touched the floor I was laying on, but seeing his, Champ’s, blood splattered all over, painfully singed my soul. That big man had entered my life like an untamed storm, one not even the weatherman could have predicted. And, when that storm passed, leaving me in its wake, I felt like Mother Nature’s casualty having to rebuild my foundation from scratch. Except, there was no FEMA or professional assistance, only vengeful bikers.

Fighting the immense urge to open my eyes and see my immediate threat, I played the role of victim, one their prisoner had recently injured and left unconscious. Trent’s best friend and the VP that had replaced him, Meth, found me first. His name came from rumors that he had been the best meth cook, back in the day.

Meth grabbed a hold of my shoulders, lifted, then angrily shook. “What have you done?”

I blinked, pretending to just now be waking up. “W-What happened?”

Meth’s long red beard couldn’t cover his deep scowl. To not be overheard, Meth sneered in my face. “Don’t you bullshit me.”

“I’m not, Meth.” I swallowed, hard, because I needed the VP with so much power to believe me. Or my kid would pay a price. Threats to Jade were held over my head daily. That beautiful baby was used against me so that men, including my own father, could get what they wanted.

As soon as one hand released my shoulder, I cowered and prepared for the upcoming smack. My head bounced to the right, not able to withstand his strength. Then he shook me once more. “Lie to me again.”

Staring into cold dark eyes, I knew I had only one card to play. Meth had always wanted me but, adamantly, refused to pay. He felt it cheapened his authority, never considering how cheap I felt. He complained that Trent had been permitted to claim me, yet he wasn’t allowed to lay with me without a dollar attached. Dad simply kept upping Meth’s price every time he bitched.

At the dire moment, all I could do was hope Meth’s desire to get between my legs was powerful enough to get him to lie for me. I begged, “Help me.”

“Like you helped him?”

I refused to truly admit it, but asked, “Did he make it?”

Disappointed, he nodded. “Yeah. He’s gone.”

There was no stopping my sigh of relief, but there was also no stopping the feeling of being without Champ. I inhaled through the loss. “So, will you help me?”

His grip on my shoulders actually loosened, having me believe there was an ounce of kindness in his heart, but it was short-lived. Meth’s cigarette-stained teeth gritted together. “No more refusals. I want my dick wet, and I ain’t paying. What was Trent’s should now be mine.” His frustrated grip tightened. “You understand?”

In such a dark moment, only more darkness found me. That overwhelming feeling only added to the growing agony of Champ’s departure. My hero wouldn’t be back, I was sure of that. And, I was no Cinderella. There would be no knight in shining armor or savior prince to rescue this damsel in distress. I had to fight and wage my own battles.

Knowing Meth’s meaning, time with him would have to be a secret, I replied, “I hear you,” promising another sexual endeavor I didn’t want.

I was released back to the ground as more bikers rushed in. Voices were yelling:

“How the fuck did he get free?”

“Who tied him down last?”

“What’s wrong with Ivy?”

Speaking to the gathering men, Meth gestured to me. “The fucker hurt her, really bad.”

My dad’s twin, Sting, appeared above me. “He do that to your throat?”

I was born into the club and don’t know all the history behind how my dad and his brother came to be leaders in the biker world, but I knew both men so well I could always tell them apart. Sting had a creepy clown feel to him. His mannerisms were more excited and animated, which was why enemies would be caught off guard. They would be busy judging his playfulness, never noticing his attack coming. When I was a kid, older members told me he was like a wasp that snuck up on you. Hence, his biker name. Sting was the weaker of the twins. The cowardly of the two. He never thought his plans out like Dad did. Dad was, usually, much more reserved and far more deadly. His sinister ways and need for revenge, as he got older, was how he got his biker name. Members said he was always splattered with victims’ blood, and that blood was hard to remove from clothing, so they started calling him Stain.

Dad stood on the other side of me. “You better not be lying to me, bitch.”