Chapter Sixteen

Luc

Walking out of my office a few hours later, zipping up my pants, I smirked at seeing Slash and said, "She will behave."

Not even seconds later, Ivy walked out of my office, sniffing, rubbing her ass, and wiping her swollen lips.

"Jesus fuck," Slash groaned, walking away, repulsed.

Fucker better get used to seeing her like that if he wanted her to stick around. I wasn't fucking playing around. She would obey. Even if I had to whip her fucking ass and use her mouth every fucking day to get her to comply, then so be it. If not, then I would kick her ass to the curb and not look back.

Taking my seat at the table, Logic sat next to me.

"This isn't working, Luc. You can't beat her into submission. She needs to be able to speak her mind without fear of being punished."

"I know that, Logic," I replied, watching while she carefully sat down in a chair, mindful of her tender ass. "But she also needs to learn to pick her battles. She challenged me in front of the club. I won't allow that. She needs to learn to control her temper, and the only way for her to learn to do that is for me to show her that actions have consequences. Ivy isn't just any masochist, Logic. She is the masochist. Slash believes she doesn't have a breaking point. I disagree, and until I find out what that is, she will push and push hard, testing everyone's limits and patience."

"You think if you find her breaking point, you will find the real Ivy?"

I slowly nodded. "And you will be able to do whatever it is you do."

Logic groaned. "That's a tricky game, Luc. You fuck up and you could make things worse for her. Set her back further. Are you willing to risk that?"

Was I?

Looking at Ivy, I didn't see what everyone else saw when they looked at her. Yes, I knew she came from a sick and troubled past. But she was also a strong, independent woman who had lost her way. That was the woman I wanted to meet. Not the woman pretending to be someone she wasn't to make others feel better. I wanted the real Ivy. The one I caught a glimpse of when she was in my room last night. The woman who, with one look, made me forget who I was and allowed me to just feel as I took what she offered.

Ivy was more than her D.I.D. diagnosis, more than a sister to Slash, more than anyone gave her credit for. She was highly intelligent and funny. She cared about others and cared more about them than her own well-being. I saw evidence of that when she gave Gunny her food. She was a good friend and eager to do her part. Others didn't look past her mental illness to see the heart of her. If they did, then they would know what I knew.

That Ivy was just like us.

A survivor.

So, no. I wasn't playing a fucking game. While I was willing to risk a great many things, Ivy wasn't one of them.

Hannibal whistled loudly while my brothers got into position.

I still wasn't happy that Ivy was here for this meeting, but I was willing to play along, to see where Los Santanas were going with this meet. However, if any of those fuckers stepped one foot out of line, my brothers had orders to kill them all.

I wasn't fucking around. They'd already pissed me off by using my strip club to move their fucking product. That alone was enough for me to declare war on them.

Walking over to me, Ivy said nothing when she took the seat Logic had just vacated. Frost taking up position on the other side of her. Trash and Agony had my back. The rest of the brothers each took a strategic stance, watching and waiting for any signal.

Leaning back in my chair, I watched when the door to the clubhouse opened and in walked several of the Los Santanas motorcycle gang. I believed in calling a spade a fucking spade. And these cocksuckers were nothing more than a fucking gang. Fuckers like them gave motorcycle clubs a bad rap.

Indigo scouted the area before we settled here, and while I knew that Los Santanas ran product through the town of Destiny, they didn't have a foothold here. As far as I was concerned, the town and surrounding area was free game. It was only after my club started cutting off their distribution lines that shit kicked up to a boiling point. However, they'd crossed the line when they used my motherfucking strip club as a fucking go-between.

Taking a seat directly across from me was Miguel Chavarria, the president of Los Santanas . Next to him was his second, Raul Santos. From what I heard Raul was a lot like Trash. Which meant the fucker was deadly. As for the rest of the fucknuts, I didn't give two shits who they were. I wanted this meeting over fast and them out of my territory.

"That the Puta who killed my man?" Miguel opened, and Ivy stiffened.

Yeah, pissing Ivy off wasn't the way to start this meeting. Nudging the tip of my boot against her foot, I sternly said, "You here to talk about pussy or can we get to the fucking point?"

Miguel Chavarria was a middle-aged, overweight, sick son of a bitch who only cared about one fucking thing. Money. Asshole didn't give a damn about the source or who he had to betray to get it. The more he got, the greedier he became. He was dangerous, and I didn't like that he now had Ivy in his sights.

Fucker leaned back in his chair and sneered at her, licking his lips, while he rubbed his crotch. "I'll give you a thousand for her."

"Don't trade or sell flesh, Miguel. Move on."

"Ten grand."

"Beating a dead horse, Miguel. Already gave my answer."

"Gonna get that Puta's pussy one way or another, Luc. Either you give her to me, or I take her myself, makes no difference to me. But I will have my dick in her pussy, her ass, and then her mouth. Maybe when I'm finished with her, I'll even do you the favor of letting her suck on a bullet, since you seem too pussy whipped to take care of business yourself."

"Ain't leaving without her, boss," Raul sneered viciously. He refused to take his eyes off her.

Miguel held up his hand to silence Raul, then sighed. "You got a problem, Luc."

"What's that?"

"That bitch killed Raul's brother. He wants what's owed."

"Not discussing her. You wanted this meeting. I obliged. If this was all we were going to be discussing, then I could have saved you the trip."

Miguel chuckled. "You seem to think you have the upper hand here. My word is law in this territory. Everything from San Francisco to the Oregon State line belongs to me."

"Golden Skulls and the Wraith Warriors might have an issue with that."

Miguel and several of his brothers snickered.

"Those pussies. They are nothing. Just a minor inconvenience that will get theirs when I'm ready. You, however, have caused a problem I can't ignore. When you shut down your strip club, you caused me to miss a shipment, which cost me two million dollars. Someone has to pay. Now, you can either give me the cash I lost, or I can take the bitch. Either way, I'm getting paid."

As I glared at the fucker, we all heard several Harley's pull into the parking lot.

Smiling, I grinned.

"Oh good. Our other guests have arrived."

Miguel sat up a little straighter when the front door opened and in walked the man himself. He didn't need any introduction. Every biker from coast to coast knew him on sight. If not, the blades he wore at his back were a dead giveaway.

"Sorry for the late arrival. Traffic was a bitch," Reaper said, walking over as Frost quickly got up, and I pulled Ivy from her seat, placing her on my lap. Reaper sitting dead center while my son, Solomon, and Ravage stood at his back. Next to Reaper sat Wraith, the president of the Wraith Warriors, with Red and Iceman standing behind him.

"Miguel was just informing me that everything from San Francisco to the Oregon State line was his territory. Weren't you, Miguel?"

"Been a long time, Chavarria." Reaper growled.

"Not long enough," the fat man muttered, glaring back. "When did you get back?"

"A while ago, just took a long vacation. So, how is the cocaine and heroin trade? Still profitable?"

"Oh, you know, it's like any business. Has its good years and bad. So, you getting back into the flesh trade?"

"Why are you looking to be sized for a coffin?"

Miguel snickered. "You always were blunt and to the point."

Reaper boiled with rage. "Then let me be crystal clear. A few of my brothers are waiting outside. They brought you three gifts. Sorry about their condition. An accident happened when my boys caught them selling cocaine to kids."

Miguel looked at one of the men he brought and nodded his head. The man left to see what was waiting outside. I could have told him if he'd asked that Reaper brought three dead guys with him.

But why ruin the surprise?

When the man returned and shook his head, Miguel cursed under his breath.

Reaper raged, "Who's the fucking pussy now, Puta ?"

Wrapping my arms around Ivy, I added, "This is how it's going to go. San Francisco is yours, and good luck with all the other clubs vying for territory. However, if you step one fucking toe in Destiny, or the surrounding area, not only will you be declaring war with Disturbed but also with The Golden Skulls and the Wraith Warriors. We control northern California now. Understood?"

Raul sneered, "That Puta is fucking mine."

"No."

Miguel sighed. "She's only a whore."

Growling, I fumed. "No."

"Does she belong to a brother? Is that it?"

"No."

"Then she's free pussy. I will agree to your terms on one condition. The bitch goes with us."

"Luc," Ivy whispered, but the second she did, from the corner of my eye, I saw Solomon stiffen when my brothers stepped out of the shadows.

Shit.

That was all the confirmation I needed. Solomon was the one who saved Ivy that day in Florida. There was no fucking way my son would allow me to hand Ivy over to Miguel.

Not that I was going to anyway.

However, when Reaper leaned back in his chair and grinned at me, I knew the fucker was up to something.

"Miguel's got a point, Luc. She killed a Los Santanas . So, unless a brother has claimed her, Miguel has a right to her."

"Luc," Slash growled, stepping forward.

Fuck.

Wraith, the blond fucker, chuckled. "Yeah, Luc. Reaper's right."

Ivy turned to me, looking me dead in the eyes. I could see her fear. Feel her pulse pounding in her veins as she pleaded with me to do something. Anything.

"Lucifer," Frost whispered close to my ear, getting my attention. "Just fucking do it. You already knew it was going to happen. Just say the fucking words and end this shit before it turns into a bloodbath."

"Either she's an old lady, or the bitch is mine. Which is it?" Miguel asked firmly.

Looking at Ivy, I wanted to tell her that everything was going to be okay. But I refused to lie to her. I knew no matter what I said or did, Miguel and Los Santanas wouldn't stop coming for her. They would always hunt her. No amount of protection would save her from the torment she would receive if they ever got their hands on her. The only thing I could do was to afford her some semblance of protection and pray that when the dust settled, she didn't hate me anymore than she already did.

"She's my old lady."

Sitting at my table, I nursed a whiskey while I watched Ivy talk with Solomon. I didn't know what they were saying, but I could tell Solomon wasn't happy with what he was hearing.

The second I said the words, giving her my protection, her eyes closed, and when they opened again, the woman who looked back at me was a stranger.

"The faster you brand her, the safer she will be," Reaper said, leaning back, watching the duo. The second the meeting was over, and Los Santanas left the clubhouse, Wraith and his boys followed, needing to get back to their club, taking Jude with them. He didn't say why, but whatever it was must have been important. "When Frost called and sent a picture of Ivy, Solomon about lost his shit. Took Ravage and Sunny several hours to calm the moody bastard down. He wanted to ride to her immediately. He feels responsible for her."

"He tell you how they met?"

"Yeah." He nodded, taking a long pull of his beer.

"When you can, I'm gonna need the file on his time at the Florida Chapter. I need to know what Ivy endured there."

"You already know what she survived, Luc. Just look at your son. You don't need to read about it. But I will tell you that her father didn't sell her to the Florida Chapter to become a club whore. He paid Toxic twenty grand to kill her."

"She's Malice's sister, Reaper. I just claimed the sister of a Soulless Sinner."

"You did it to protect her. Trust me. Malice will understand that. He may beat your ass first, but he will understand. What's this shit I hear about a detective coming from New York City to visit?"

Shaking my head, I groaned. "Detective Calloway. She wants to speak with Ivy. Woman thinks Ivy might know something about a serial killer who enjoys killing kids. She's supposed to be here next week."

"Does Ivy know anything?"

"If she does, she hasn't said."

"Want me to get Sypher on it?"

"No. Indigo has it under control."

Sitting up straighter, I stared when Solomon took a seat across from me. Ivy was now sitting with Slash, who was hugging her.

"You hurt her, I will kill you."

I smirked, looking at Reaper. "My son. I'm so proud."

Reaper laughed loudly.

Solomon growled.

Sighing, I simply said, "I won't do anything she doesn't ask me to do. Now, how is my granddaughter?"

"Fine."

"And my daughter-in-law?"

"Fine."

Before I could ask another question, my son got to his feet and walked away.

"Still eloquent as ever, I see."

Reaper smiled. "Only with you. We can't shut the fucker up at the clubhouse."

I chuckled at that, knowing damn well Reaper was lying his ass off. Flipping the topic, I asked, "Heard that Remi returned?"

Now it was Reaper's turn to grumble as he nodded, downing the rest of his beer. "She's not making it easy."

"Did you expect her to? You fucking lied to her. I'm surprised you're still breathing. Gotta say, man, you knocked it out of the park with your fuck up. Don't think I've ever seen a man dig himself a hole so damn deep he needs a life preserver to stay afloat."

"She will calm down."

"You sure about that? ‘Cause last I heard you were still sleeping on the couch."

Reaper glared at me. "Goddamnit. Who else knows?"

"Everyone." I chuckled. "Unlike my mute son, my beautiful daughter-in-law loves to talk."

Reaper banged his head on the table. "Jesus Christ."