Chapter Six

Ivy

"I'll be out back if you need me, Mouth!" I shouted over the loud music. I grabbed my backpack, holding my plate of food that Elvis made for me.

The brother waved me away while he loaded another tray down with drinks. The clubhouse had been busy as fuck from the moment I started my shift. If it wasn't the brothers' wanting drinks, it was the civilians that stopped by to check out the place.

It had been almost two weeks since I started, and while I was still getting the lay of the land, it was an easy gig. Heading out the back doors, I spotted a familiar face and smiled.

"About time you showed up, girlie. I was getting lonely."

Smiling, I placed my plate of food on the table and sat next to the old man who I'd met on my second night, when Puck introduced the old coot to me. We struck up an instant friendship. Unlike the grouchy big guy glaring at me at the other end of the table.

Hannibal still hadn't said a word to me, but I was wearing him down. I could feel it.

"Good evening, Gunny. What brings you out tonight?"

I enjoyed it when Gunny showed up. His real name was Winston Richards, but everyone called him Gunny. A former Vietnam veteran, Gunny did two tours in Vietnam before a Vietcong damn near decapitated him. According to Gunny, he was clearing a foxhole when the altercation occurred. The Vietcong didn't make it, and Gunny had a constant reminder of how fleeting life was with a scar that ran from his right eye, down his face, across his lips to his neck. It wasn't pretty, that was for sure, but Gunny didn't give a fuck. He lived when many of his brothers didn't. He told me once that the scar on his face was so he never forgot them, and he never did.

"Wanted to see my favorite girl."

"Really?" I smirked teasingly. "Do I know her?"

"Don't play with me, Ivy. You know you're the only girl for me."

Gasping, I grabbed my chest with one hand, fanning my face with the other. "Be still my heart. A declaration of love. Finally. See, Hannibal, it's easy. Just say something. Anything."

The big guy growled, got to his feet, and stormed away.

Unable to stop myself, I yelled after him, "Your silence is speaking volumes, big guy. I know you like me!"

"Girl, that boy doesn't like anyone." Gunny sighed.

"Oh, he's just playing hard to get." I smirked.

"Sure, sweetheart." Gunny chuckled when I opened the napkin Elvis gave me and laid it in front of Gunny. Taking half of the large roast beef sandwich, I laid it on the napkin before grabbing the small bowl of fruit and placing it next to the sandwich.

Handing Gunny a spoon, I smiled. "Eat up, Gunny."

"You are too good for me, Ivy." The old man smiled, reaching for the sandwich and taking a bite. Placing one of the two bottles of water I snagged from behind the bar on the table, I twisted off the cap and handed it to him.

I learned shortly after meeting Gunny that he was homeless, living in a shantytown a few blocks from the clubhouse. It broke my heart hearing that the lovable old coot lived on the streets. As a former street rat myself, I knew what hardships he faced daily. But Gunny wasn't just some street rat. He was a veteran. He served his country with distinction and honor. Knowing how this country treated him, and many others like him, pissed me off. Men like Gunny should be revered, honored for their sacrifice; instead, this fucking country ignored them, turned their backs on him like he was trash.

Fucking bastards.

Feeling my new phone vibrate, the one Slash bought me, I frowned. No one had this number. Not even Gladys. Reaching around my back, I grabbed it. Flipping it over, I saw a private number calling.

Ignoring it, I placed it face down on the table before reaching for my bottle of water, only to notice that my hand was shaking.

"You okay, girlie?"

"What?" my body jerked toward Gunny. "Oh, yeah. It was nothing. Wrong number."

"Wrong number spooked ya?"

I shrugged, picking up my sandwich to take a bite when the back door opened and Mouth yelled, "Ivy, get in here! We got visitors!"

Placing my sandwich down, I sighed.

Sliding my plate over to Gunny, I grabbed my phone and bag and headed back inside.

I wasn't hungry, anyway.

Rushing inside, a hand shot out and grabbed my arm.

Turning, my eyes widened as I stared at Hannibal.

"Something wrong, big guy?"

"Don't speak to them."

"IVY! NOW!"

Nodding, Hannibal released my arm as I hurried behind the bar. Looking around, I saw that a group of five men had wandered in, all wearing leather cuts of their own, as they each grabbed chairs before sitting. Whoever these men were, none of the Disturbed brothers looked happy. Even Puck, who always had a smile on his face, glared, never taking his eyes off the group.

"Fucking took you long enough." Mouth huffed while he lined up several shot glasses, before running the whiskey bottle down the line as two of the club whores grabbed them, placing them on their trays.

"Whose are they?" I asked, reaching for bottles of beer, popping caps before loading down another tray when my eyes landed on one of the newcomers. The man wasn't as big as Hannibal, but he was stockier, and from the tattoos running up his neck and across the right side of his face, the man wasn't someone I wanted to fuck with. Especially when he nudged the man sitting next to him, causing the group to all turn and look at me.

" Los Santanas ."

The second the server picked up the tray loaded down with shots of whiskey, one of the Los Santanas shouted, "Not that, Puta . The one with Ojós de Diablo !"

My hands froze when I turned to look up at Mouth, who cursed, slowly closing his eyes.

I knew what the fucker said.

The one with devil eyes.

Removing my apron, I placed it on the bar. Mouth grabbed my hand. "Just serve them, then leave. Got me?"

I nodded.

Walking over to the server, I carefully took the heavy tray, tilting my head towards the back. She didn't need to be told twice. Turning, I spotted Slash, next to Saint, who simply nodded.

Walking over to the group of men, I placed several shots on the table before them. When my tray was empty, I turned to walk out of the room when the one with facial tattoos grabbed my wrist.

"Stay."

Looking up, my eyes landed on Indigo as he slowly reached for something behind his back. Two men I remembered seeing on my first day moved out of the shadows, making their presence known when we all heard a metal door open in the back of the club.

I dared not move as the brothers of Disturbed methodically moved into position. I'd never seen anything like it before. Almost like synchronized swimmers, they each played their part beautifully.

The man holding my wrist squeezed, causing me to wince when I felt something prick my skin.

Twisting to look at my wrist, I stared at the single drop of blood that fell to the floor before my eyes moved to his, and I whispered so quietly, he leaned forward to hear me: "Get your fucking hand off me before I cut it off."

The men with him laughed while the fucker sneered at me, licking his lips. My eyes sought Slash's, and when I found him, I hoped he could forgive me for what I was about to do. Because when the fucker squeezed tighter, snapping a bone, everything faded to black around me.

"IVY. NO!"

Hearing nothing but the roar of my blood coursing in my veins, I didn't think when I took the first swing. Blood flew from the split lip of the fucker holding my wrist before he released me. Free of his restraint, I didn't stop. When he turned his head and spit out a tooth, his friends roared with laughter as I blew him a kiss.

With a dazed and confused look, I didn't give him the chance to retaliate. I charged the fucker, quickly hitting him again, then a fist shot out and connected with my jaw. Shaking my head, I slowly turned to the fucker who swung at me as he smiled.

Spitting a little blood on the floor, I quickly twisted around, extending my leg, aiming for his ugly face as he stumbled back into a chair. His buddies were now on their feet, eager to get in on the fun.

Pain radiated from my face, fueling my hunger for more.

Like a drug, I craved the sting, the ache of the adrenaline rushing through me, and sure enough, a fist connected with flesh. Fucker number one took his turn and missed. I landed another hit under his thick jaw, knocking him off his feet. A firm grip twirled me around, but before fucker number two could get off another hit, I shot my hand up, jabbing him in his throat. Grabbing his neck, the fucker gasped for air he couldn't get while his other buddies decided they each wanted a turn.

A blow to the side of the head sent me stumbling backward a few steps and blood flowed from my nose. Without thinking, I reached up, grabbed my nose and quickly set it, before wiping the blood away with the back of my hand.

Seeing a man with a knife in his hands, I tilted my head and grinned.

Oh, fucker wanted to play.

Alright.

I didn't hesitate to reach for my blade, unsheathing it in one swift move, before flipping it in the air and catching it by the hilt. With my other hand, I crouched low and waved the fucker on.

"Let's play," I sneered while I licked the blood dripping from my lip, delighting in the metallic taste.

Fucker number one charged me again. I reached out, grabbed his wrist, and without a second thought, I twisted around fast, slicing my blade around his hand to the bone. Then, before anyone could see what I'd done, I jabbed the tip of my knife into his wrist bone and twisted it, severing the limb completely. Standing there, I watched when the man stopped and looked down at his arm, seeing blood stream out of his limb onto the floor. Slowly turning, the fucker looked back at me while I raised his hand, then dropped it to the floor.

His friends didn't move.

No one did.

"Had enough fun yet?" I growled low, never taking my eyes off him or his friends. Instead of doing the right thing, the fucker roared. His screams echoed like music to my ears. He reached behind him with his remaining hand to produce a gun. Before he could even get off a shot, I threw my knife, and watched when it landed deep in this throat. Gurgling, the fucker slowly fell to his knees. I walked over to him, letting out a sadistic laugh. Reaching for my knife, I placed my booted foot on his shoulder and pulled hard; my knife slid from his body, dripping with his blood.

Leaning over, I blew on him as he fell to the floor, dead.

Movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention when Agony, one of the club enforcers, snapped the neck of fucker number two, who held a gun to the back of my head.

Turning to face my new threat, strong arms tightened roughly from behind me. Struggling to free myself, I watched as Saint, Indigo and Logic quickly subdued the other three Los Santanas members . My eyes landed on the nasty fucker who grabbed me, lying face down on the floor, blood pooling around his head, his severed hand by his feet.

I smiled.

"Ivy, breathe. You're safe, babe," I barely heard Slash as he tried to get my attention. My heart thumped wildly in my chest, making it harder to catch my breath.

I wanted more.

I needed it.

Craved it as I licked my lip again, tasting my blood coat my tongue.

"Bitch ain't calming down, Slash."

"Just give her a minute!" he shouted. "She just needs a minute."

"Gonna have to restrain her," someone else said as my eyes landed on Slash.

I knew that face.

"Hey. That's right, Ivy. It's me. Mikie. Come on, sweetheart. Come back to me."

Blinking a few times, I tried to focus when I whispered, "Slash?"

"Yeah, that's right, babe, it's me."

"Slash?" my voice quivered while my eyes stared at the dead men.

"Ivy, I need you to tell me you're good, babe."

Nodding, I murmured, "I'm good."

"Then drop the fucking knife," a gruff, calm voice growled low and firm from behind me, as warm breath tickled my ear. Arms tightened around my middle, cutting off my air. That's when I realized I had my knife pressed hard against someone's crotch.

"Now!"

Nodding, I released the hold on my knife, and it clattered to the floor. And whoever was holding me pushed me away. Turning, I saw Luc bent at the waist, his hands on his knees as he took long, deep breaths.

"You're lucky, Ivy." Saint smirked. "Not many people can get the jump on Luc like that and live to tell the tale."

"Saint, shut up and get those fucks downstairs," Frost shouted, handing out orders. "Pinball, go get the Plebs and tell them to clean this shit up. Mouth, turn the fucking music back up. The rest of you, church, now!"

Frost turned to Slash and pointed his finger. "Get her wrist checked out, then send her home."

"Come on, Ivy," Slash muttered, wrapping his arm around me and escorting me toward the front door. I turned around to find myself looking at the Devil himself, who stood in the middle of a mess I created, glaring at me.

It took three X-rays and four hours in the emergency room for a doctor to tell me my wrist was broken.

I could have told the fucking quack that myself, but I kept my mouth shut for once. It was bad enough I'd probably just lost my job, but knowing I broke my promise to my best friend was the worst. The entire time at the hospital, Slash hadn't said a word to me.

I knew he was mad.

I was mad too.

"I'm sorry."

"I know you are."

"Then why aren't you talking to me? Yell, scream, say something. Just don't sit there and ignore me."

"What do you want me to say, Ivy? Part of me is fucking proud as hell that you defended yourself. The other half is worried about what's gonna happen when you show up at work tomorrow. Because the club will not let this go, especially Indigo. He will have questions."

"I'll just make something up. No biggie."

Slash shook his head. "He's like Frost. He will know you're lying. Whatever you tell him, there better be some truth to it. Speaking of which, how in the hell did you do what you did?"

I shrugged. "I can't remember. One minute I was serving the drinks, the next Luc was holding me. I didn't even see him come in."

"Prez showed up just as you lost your shit. You slit that fucker's throat and cut his hand off before any of us could get to you. When his buddy reached for his gun, Agony snapped the fucker's neck. It all happened within seconds. It was gnarly as hell, and you know I love a good horror flick."

I smirked, then started laughing.

"What?"

"I finally get why they call you Slash."

"Shut up, Ivy," Slash groaned, and I laughed louder.

It was late by the time Slash dropped me off at my apartment. Though he wanted me to stay at the clubhouse, I told him I was fine where I was and that I would be okay. Dropping my backpack at the door, I didn't bother to turn the lights on.

I didn't need the light.

I was safer in the dark.

Walking into my bedroom, I kicked off my boots, stripping my T-shirt over my head. Unbuttoning my jeans, I shimmied out of them, walking toward my bathroom. Leaning over the tub, I hit the stopper before turning on the hot water. After testing the temperature, I walked over to the sink and stared at myself in the mirror.

Placing my hands on the counter, I tried not to wince at the sharp pain in my wrist while I hung my head, taking a deep breath, before slowly raising my head again. I still couldn't believe I'd lost my shit like that.

Running my hand through my thick wavy hair, I stared at the reflection that looked back at me. My eyes scanned the body before me, I couldn't help but stare at the healed scars that ran along my stomach.

Two distinct scars, running from rib to hip, in a crisscross pattern. Tracing my finger over the raised skin, I felt nothing of the past I'd survived.

I hadn't in a long time.

Yet, the nightmare was still there, waiting for me to close my eyes.

Sighing, I turned away from my reflection and climbed into my tub.

Leaning back, I allowed the hot water to wash over me.

I closed my eyes, praying that tonight was the night I slept without fear.