Chapter Seventeen

VOID

Ivy’s quiet. She has been for the six-and-a-half-hour drive to Okaloosa County. Leaving the clubhouse and her sister is hard, I get that—it’s all she really knows of America—but we have no choice. The safe house is our best option right now. I haven’t been to Hurricane’s safe house, but I’ve heard good things. It sits buried in dense brush, with a bayou running along the back as another layer of escape if you need it… so long as you don’t run into any gators.

As we pull to the very back of the row of estates, a medium-sized house comes into view. A long driveway leads down to the main building, separate from the other houses along this row. I turn off the road and head toward the bungalow.

A small stoop leads up to the front entry, with a modest porch out the front and a couple of rocking chairs. To be honest, this looks more like Grandma Mavis’s retirement home than a biker hideout.

But I guess that’s the entire point, isn’t it?

Ivy sits higher in her seat, taking it all in. The trees sway gently in the breeze of the afternoon Florida sunshine. It’s humid today, and I wipe sweat from my brow.

“This is not what I expected. Especially pulling into Destin. It looked upmarket, but this is…” Ivy murmurs something in Spanish under her breath, leaving the sentence unfinished.

I pull the truck up next to two bikes in the drive, relieved she’s finally talking to me. “Gotta keep a low profile. That’s the trick.”

She slowly nods her head, then turns back to the window. “We have company?”

As if they heard her, Hurricane and City pop their heads out of the bungalow to check on us. I raise my hand in greeting. “Hurricane’s the pres of NOLA,” I explain to Ivy. “And City’s their VP. This is their place, so they’re here to check us in.”

She turns to me, fighting the corner of her lips turning up. “Our very own biker motel.”

“C’mon, let’s not be rude to our hosts.”

Reaching out, I grab her fingers, lift them to my lips, and kiss the back of her hand. Her soft lips finally stretch upward, the smile not quite reaching her eyes, which are still dull with sadness. My chest aches for her as I turn to slide out of the car.

Hurricane and City stomp down the stoop toward us, City’s bald head looking a little shinier than usual today. “Took your sweet-ass time getting here. We’ve been waiting for hours, Void,” City calls out, but he’s sporting a smirk.

I roll my eyes. “It takes longer to get here in a cage than on a bike, asswipe. You know that. Cut me some slack.”

“All I’m saying is you need to push the accelerator pedal a little harder next time. I got places I need to be. My Old Lady needs a hand with something back home—”

“City, calm the fuck down. We need to show them around the bungalow. And Izzy can wait. I know what you’re talking about, and it more likely means you want your Old Lady’s hands on you.” Hurricane slaps his VP on the back. City grins like he’s been caught out, saying nothing in response as Hurricane raises his chin to me. “Void… got yourself into some shit, I see?”

Ivy steps to my side, and I wrap my arm around her protectively. “Apparently. Seems more like shit found us. We don’t know who’s targeting us yet.”

Hurricane grumbles under his breath. “That old chestnut, hey? Well, you’re welcome here for as long as you need. Just don’t mess up the place too much, yeah?”

City’s eyes shift to Ivy, and he raises a brow. “You the one with that special blood?” he asks, out of nowhere.

“Yeah, that’s me. Fuck! Word travels fast.”

Hurricane shakes his head. “Can’t even imagine the shit that has brought down on the club.”

Shaking my head, I exhale. “It’s been interesting, hasn’t it, Ivy?”

She snorts out a laugh. “You have no idea. Don’t even get me started on the events with Dash and the DeLucas.”

“As in Tony DeLuca?”

Ivy nods. “Yeah. He’s the one who initially ordered my sister and I be brought over from Cuba. It’s a whole thing. But basically, his daughter is sick, and my blood and hers is a match, and they needed me to donate, so they bought us and had us trafficked over here. And while we were there, our prospect, Dash, had to keep Tony’s daughter, Mia, entertained… it was hilarious. Let’s just say I have never looked at makeup the same again.”

I smirk as Hurricane and City share a look between them, then look to Void.

“Prospects, huh?” he says. “The shit they get themselves into.”

Ivy giggles. “I wish you all could have been there to see it. You would have laughed your asses off.”

“Don’t usually find human trafficking funny, sweetheart, but I’m glad it seems to have all worked out for you.” Hurricane gestures toward the bungalow. “All right, you two wanna come inside? I’ll show you ’round before we need to head off. Wanna make it back home before nightfall.”

“You got it, and thanks again for this, Hurricane. We owe you,” I tell him.

Hurricane dips his chin at me while walking us up the stoop, then inside the bungalow. I keep my arm wrapped around Ivy as we enter. It’s outdated, and the cream carpet is kind of a dull off-brown in places. The floral sofa has a red velvet throw over the top, making it appear even more like Grandma Mavis’s home. The television is one of those old-style square sets—it’s not even a Smart TV. The walls are lined with wood paneling, and little figurines litter every goddamn surface.

I’m in a damn nightmare.

Hurricane leads us into the kitchen, where the countertop is a green Formica, the wallpaper on the wall patterned in yellow florals, and I grimace. “Goddamn.”

“Gotta love the decor, right?” City chuckles.

“Better than a bullet to the head,” Hurricane adds.

I examine the floral lace curtains over the kitchen window, and my nose wrinkles. “To be determined.”

Ivy shrugs. “It has an old-world vibe. Like stepping into the past. Untouched, you know? There’s something unique in that.”

Hurricane snorts. “I don’t know what kind of fucking style you’re into, sweetheart, but you need better taste. This place is a disaster zone. We only keep it this way ’cause it’s low profile and fuckin’ low maintenance.”

“Well, I like it. It’s not pompous or overstated. It’s comfortable. Reminds me of home a little. My old home… in Cuba, I mean.”

“You have family back there?” Hurricane asks.

Ivy shakes her head. “No, just me and Eva. She’s in Tampa. How about you, do you have a family?”

Hurricane smiles wide. “Yeah, sure do. An Old Lady, kids, a twin brother, stepsiblings, a stepmother, the list keeps going… I know there are brothers out there who have no one. I’ve been real fuckin’ lucky.”

Ivy places her hand on Hurricane’s forearm, and a mournful smile touches her lips. “I lost my parents back in Cuba… I’m one of those unlucky ones. But I do have my sister, and that is a blessing.”

He places his hand on top of hers. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Ivy inhales sharply, shrugging her shoulders. “Enough of this sappy shit. How about you give us that tour you were talking about.”

Hurricane grins, then turns and walks toward the refrigerator. “The fridge is stocked, pantry’s full. You should have everythin’ you need for a prolonged stay. The club’s just under four hours away. If shit hits the fan, press this button…” he points to a button underneath the kitchen counter, “… and we’ll come,” he explains.

“Got it. Thanks again for the digs, brother. Really fucking appreciate it,” I tell Hurricane as he reaches out for City, pulling him by his shirt sleeve toward the door.

“The front door has extra locks… use ’em! And in the back of the library, there’s a panic room. I’ll text you the combination to the gun safe.”

“There’s a library?” Ivy gasps.

“Have a good time, you two. You’re in lockdown as of now. No venturing off anywhere,” Hurricane instructs.

I pull Ivy to me tightly, and we watch the two large men stomp to their rides, then take off, kicking up stones and leaving us alone—truly alone—for the first time since we met that night I stole her from the boat.

Now, it’s just Ivy and me, and no one to interrupt our time together.

Not Nycto.

Not Eva.

Certainly not Dash.

We might be here because we’re in danger, but at least we’re together.

The roar of the Harleys drift off into the distance, and I walk over to the door, then dead-bolt it.

Can’t be too safe.

Ivy slowly strolls around the living room, her fingers gently stroking all the little trinkets. “Why is this happening, Void?”

“I’m not sure.” I sigh. “At first, I thought it might have been Tony, trying to get one over on us. But he assures us it’s not him. When we went to chat with him, he was pretty convincing. So, it got me to thinking who else it could be.”

She turns to face me, her eyes hopeful. “And?”

“When I totaled my ride when I was tripping, hallucinating, I thought I was seeing shit.”

Ivy moves over to stand in front of me. “You’re not making any sense. What does this have to do with anything?”

I reach out, grabbing her hand. “When I was tripping, I thought I saw someone from my past.”

Ivy jerks her head back in shock. “But aren’t they all in jail?”

Pulling her with me, I walk with her over to the floral sofa, then sit us down. There’s a laptop on the coffee table, so I open the lid. “Let’s find out.”

We both sit on the excessively soft sofa, sinking too far into it. I adjust my position and start typing into the search engine for my father’s jail records. I scroll until I find what I need. “Fuck.” I groan under my breath.

“What?” Ivy asks, leaning in closer to try and see.

“His records indicate he’s been let out. Reduced sentence for good behavior.”

Ivy draws her bottom lip in by her teeth while I run my fingers through my hair. My pulse quickens as my mind flashes back to the statue in the trees. “Jesus. Maybe when I saw my father in the woods, I wasn’t tripping. Maybe he was actually there.”

Ivy wraps her arms around mine for comfort. “What would your father want with you now?”

“I’m not sure. I was taken from him. Maybe he doesn’t realize I want nothing to do with that life anymore.”

“You believe he’s starting the cult back up?”

“Absolutely. He’d be quiet about it, though. But a man like him? He’s smart. He’d play the judicial system so easily. He would do his time, be a good boy, get out early, and start up all over again. I’m sure he’ll want his disciples by his side.”

“And he sees you as one of his disciples?”

My lip curls, my stomach swirling with nausea. “Not only a disciple, but a legacy. He not only would want me there, but he also needs me.”

“So, he’s targeting me to get to you?”

“I think so.”

“But why wouldn’t he just come straight for you?”

“This is how he works. It’s called mind manipulation. Mess with you so you think you’re losing yourself, until your only option is to turn to him for help.”

Ivy scoffs. “What, so he expects you to just go off and join another cult with him?”

Anger swirls through me. “Oh no, sweet thing. He expects me to run it with him.”

“Mierda.”

“I’m not going to. We’re going to stop him, Ivy. The things he does to women, the things he makes them do… it’s not right.”

She reaches out, grabbing both my hands in hers. “At least you understand the difference. You’re a good man, Void.”

Regret swarms through me like a raging tornado. “Not always.”

“Not everyone can be good all the time. But the majority of the time, you do the right thing. You’re always looking out for my best interests, even if they don’t match yours.”

“You’re important to me, Ivy. I might not be great at showing it, but I… I care about you.”

She leans in and kisses me. The second her lips touch mine, calm washes over me, like all the stress I was feeling is washed away for a brief instant.

How can she be both my calm and my storm?

Ivy pulls slowly away from me, pressing her forehead against mine. “How about we go check out that library?”

I chuckle. “Yeah, baby. Let’s go check out the library.”

Here she comes, my calm against the raging storm in my mind.