Chapter 3

GRIZZ

Istare at Ivy, who's now screaming at the top of her lungs. She wants her mother, that much is clear, but I take the bottle anyway and stick it in her mouth. She suckles without a fuss, maybe because I don't smell of milk, and I relax back, watching her sweet, innocent face drink it down like a pro.

Once she's done, she releases her suction and falls into a milk coma. I stand and gently place her into the basket before going in search of Luna.

I find her in the bathroom, and I can hear her sniffles through the locked door. I tap lightly. "Open up."

"Is she okay?" she murmurs through sobs.

"Open up."

After a few seconds, the lock clicks and I push the door open. Luna stands before me with a tear-stained face and a red nose. I don't think too much about it as I pull her into my arms and hold her against my chest. Her small shoulders shake as more sobs leave her, and I gently shush her and tell her everything will be okay.

Ten minutes must pass before she lifts her head to look at me. "Sorry, I don't know what came over me."

"I'm guessing you don't wanna come back to the clubhouse?" I ask, and she shakes her head. "Which is gonna cause me a headache," I tell her, using my thumbs to wipe her wet cheeks. "How can I babysit you when you're here?"

"I told you," she says, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her top, "I'm fine."

"You look it," I say, my voice dripping in sarcasm.

"It's the baby blues," she whispers, leaning over the sink and splashing her face in cold water. Her shirt rides up her thighs, and I spot fresh bruises. I reach out, carefully running my finger over the largest, and she looks down. "I hit it on the table."

I take her hand, making her stand fully. She grabs a towel to dry her face as I take the shirt in my hands and pull hard, ripping it open. She gasps as buttons fly all over the floor, and I tug the shirt down her arms until it joins the discarded buttons and she's naked.

Her body is littered in blue and green bruises. It's impossible to see where one ends and another starts as I rake my eyes over her. When they finally reach hers, I see the pain in them. "What the fuck did they do?" I grit out, blood beginning to whoosh in my ears.

"It's nothing," she cries, and I turn to leave. I feel her hands wrapping around my wrist, trying to stop me. "Please, just leave it."

"Did you want them to do this?" I growl, turning on her. She shrinks back against the wall but doesn't release her death grip on me. "Did they do this with your consent?" Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she shakes her head. "Then let me go," I bark, trying to shake her off.

"Please, Grizz, you'll make it worse."

"Worse?" I lead her back into the bathroom and force her in front of the mirror. "Worse than this?"

She cries harder, her entire body shaking. "It's my life," she sobs. "It's what I do."

"No," I yell, gripping her by the shoulders and turning her to face me. "No, you choose. You say who, and where, and how much. You don't deserve this," I say, pointing to the bite marks on her stomach. "You can't even feed your baby because of them."

I shrug out of my kutte and place it on the side. Taking off my chequered overshirt, I wrap it around her then pull my kutte back into place over my white T-shirt. "Your fucking brother is selling you to pay his drug habit and that's not okay." She pulls my shirt around her, looking vulnerable and lost, and something in my chest tightens. "I'm sorry," I mutter, taking her hand in mine. "I shouldn't have shouted at you."

"It's just hard, yah know," she whispers. "He's so angry all the time."

"Your brother?"

She nods. "I don't want to upset him when he's around Ivy. It's not usually a problem, it's my job, but since having Ivy, I feel . . . different."

"So, come to the clubhouse. He can't get to you there."

She thinks over my words. "I like my flat, and my mum lives just upstairs. She needs looking after."

"Bring her."

She shakes her head again. "I can't. She won't come. I'm fine here, honestly. And I'm painting Ivy's bedroom." She gives a small smile. "I want to give her a home."

I tuck Luna's hair behind her ear. "I saw the room, and you're doing a great job, but you can do all of that at the clubhouse."

"I'll speak to my brother, tell him I'm not doing it anymore. I won't let him in the flat."

I sigh heavily. I can't force her to leave here, but I also know she won't stand up to her brother. "Fine. Whatever you want."

I lead her into the bedroom and pull the sheets back. "Get in," I tell her, and she does, slipping beneath the sheets and snuggling into her pillows. "Sleep."

I slept soundlywith Ivy in my arms for the second night running, and although I'd never admit it out loud, that kid is like a magical sleep guru. I ain't ever slept so well, and when Luna woke us both at six this morning, even she was surprised at how well her baby girl slept. But it meant I had to go for my workout, get back, and shower, all by nine, when the Pres called church. I made it just in time.

"So," he begins, "how's it all going?"

"London is a bitch, that's all I gotta say on the matter," mutters Cash, and a few of the brothers laugh.

"Foxy is great," Smoke says with a wink and a smirk. "Well, she was when I left her in bed a minute ago."

"Jesus, Smoke, you're not meant to be making them your old lady," says Fletch. "You'll give the others ideas."

"Anything suspicious?" asks Axel. The others shake their heads, and he waits for me to do the same. "VP?" he pushes.

"She got hurt yesterday," I say, staring hard at the club's logo carved into the centre of the oak table. I ball my fists as the anger returns. "How far are we taking this protection shit?"

"Hurt how?" asks Axel.

"Hey, Pres says she's got a kid," Duke cuts in. "When the fuck did that happen?"

"Can I end her fucking brother or not?" I spit, glaring directly at Axel.

"Clear out," Axel orders the others, and they do it quickly. He turns to me and repeats, "Hurt how?"

"Two guys—her brother's dealers, I think—raped her."

"Shit, is she okay?"

I shake my head. "No, but she won't come to the clubhouse, and she begged me to leave it, so I don't know what the fuck to do."

"Brother, if she wants you to leave it, you have to follow her wishes."

"And let them get away with it?" I snap, hardly believing my ears.

He shrugs. "If it's what she wants."

"She was upset and scared. She doesn't know what she wants."

"Grizz, she ain't your old lady. If you're feeling some kinda way, then?—".

"I'm not," I say, irritated by his assumption. "It's not like that. But she's in a mess and her brother's a prick. He's getting her to pay off his drug debt."

"That's their business. These women all have lives outside of this club and it's up to them how much they share with us. If she's asked you to stay out of it, then you stay out of it. You can't wade in there, cos she might give you up to the police and then you'll be right back inside."

He's right. I've only just come off licence after being released from a five-year stretch in Belmarsh for assault. "Then what do I do?"

"You check in on her daily and keep an eye on things . . . and Grizz, if her brother turns up, you walk away. Are we clear?" I stare at him blankly. "Are we clear, VP?" I give a nod. "Good. I don't need you back inside over some club whore drama."

"I should get to the bar," I mutter, pushing to stand. "I've got a delivery coming."

He also stands. "How's it coming along?"

"Good," I tell him, a smile pulling at my lips when I think of it. "I can't wait for you to see it."

Danii is signingfor my delivery when I arrive. She smiles as I get off my bike and hands the delivery guy his clipboard. "Nice of you to join us," she says, glancing at her watch, "at ten a.m."

"I got caught up."

"In someone's sheets?" she teases.

I smirk, pulling out the keys and opening the shutters. "You asking me something there, darlin'?" It's the second time she's inadvertently asked if I have a woman. When I glance back at her, she's blushing. "Cos you just gotta ask me outright. I don't do this flirting shit."

"Flirting?" she repeats innocently. "I wasn't flirting."

I unlock the door and push it open. She steps inside and watches as I begin to carry the boxes in, dumping them on the bar. "This place is just . . . stunning."

"You were asking me a question," I remind her.

"Was I?" She slides onto a barstool, and I place another box on the bar and send a smirk her way. It always works, and she almost melts as she admits, "I was. "Are you single?"

I laugh. "Now, why do you wanna know that?"

She rolls her eyes. "Cut the crap. We've been doing the dance for weeks now and you know it. I'm getting to the point because you're clearly not going to."

"And what point's that?" I step closer, and she inhales sharply as our legs brush.

"Do you want to go out for a drink sometime?"

"Yes."

Relief passes over her face. "Great. When?"

"Now," I tell her, reaching for a bottle of whiskey and holding it up.

She laughs, throwing her head back slightly to expose her neck, and I resist the urge to kiss her delicate skin. "I have a business to run."

"I forgot about that," I murmur, closing the gap between us and running my nose along her temple, inhaling her fresh scent. "So, when?"

She visibly swallows. "Tonight?"

"Tonight," I confirm, taking a step back. She releases a long breath, and I wink, heading out to grab the next box.

LUNA

I parkIvy's pushchair in the hall of my mother's flat and close the front door. It's cold, but then again, it's always cold. She refuses to top up the meter so she can heat the place. "Mum?" I call out.

I make sure the blanket is covering Ivy before heading into the living room. It's the same layout as my flat, only she hasn't cleaned it in a long time. There are burn marks in the old carpet that has been down since I was little, and I dread to think when she last ran a vacuum over the thing.

I find her on the couch, sprawled out and naked. Her body is covered in bruises too—much like mine—but I choose to push that thought away as I grab a dirty blanket from the table and place it over her. "Mum," I say, gently giving her a nudge. "Mum, it's lunchtime, wake up."

I remember the times I'd come home from school at lunchtime because I didn't have money to buy dinners and she was too proud to sign up for the free school meals option because she didn't want the teachers to look down their noses at us. She'd often be passed out like this, and sometimes there'd be a man with her, sometimes more than one. I shudder at the memories.

"Huh?" she mumbles, stirring.

"It's me, Luna. Are you hungry? I made some soup," I tell her, going back into the hallway to retrieve the bag containing homemade potato soup and fresh bread.

"Fuck off, Luna," she slurs, kicking the blanket from her body.

"You have to eat something," I remind her. "You'll end up back in hospital with pneumonia." She's spent more and more time there lately, and I often wonder if she does it to get a break from Nate.

"Maybe next time I'll die," she spits, sitting up and grabbing her pack of cigarettes.

"You're supposed to be quitting," I mutter, opening the soup flask and pouring a small amount into the lid for her to taste. She swipes it from my grip, spilling it over my hand.

"Fuck," I snap, dropping the lid to the floor. "Jesus, Mum, what's wrong with you?"

I place the flask down and grab the dirty sheet to soak up the mess. "Did Nate find you?"

I glance up. "No, why's he looking for me?"

"He needs money."

"Well, I don't have any," I tell her.

She sneers. "Is business slow? I told you that would happen if you kept the brat. You ruined my body, I couldn't get the same clientele after you." I remember the day I told her about the baby. She was so angry, not because she was worried for me, but she knew I'd need time off and she'd have to cover my time with Nate's friends.

"Have the soup," I mutter, pouring another cup. "Please."

"How is the brat?" she mutters, taking a sip and closing her eyes in pleasure.

"She's in the hall. You wanna see?" I go and get Ivy without waiting for an answer. "She's feeding from the bottle," I tell her proudly, tilting Ivy so she can see her. I long for her to be a good grandmother, to cuddle Ivy and coo over her like normal grandparents.

"Make the most of your tits while they're that big. You'll lose them if you stop feeding and they'll turn to saggy air bags." I roll my eyes. "I know a guy who sells photos. Shall I send him round to take some? He pays good."

"No, Mum. I don't want pervy Nigel taking photos of my boobs."

She shrugs. "Suit yourself. It would pay enough to get Nate off your back."

"Maybe Nate should sell his own pictures," I snap.

"He's your brother, it's your job to look after him."

"It's your job to look after him," I say, "but then you never did do that very well."

"If you've come here to insult me, Luna, you can just leave. I had Nate here last night with all his friends. I didn't sleep at all, and now, you're here giving me grief. Just get out."

"Nate's friends?" I repeat, taking in her naked state. "Mum," I sigh, "did you pay off his debt?" Usually, Nate saves his friends for me and brings older clients for Mum.

"He's a good boy. Not like you, you ungrateful slag."

I give a disappointed nod. "I'll come back tomorrow," I mutter, heading out. There's no point talking to her when she's like this.

Jessica turnsup just after six, and I show her the formula. I was pumping my own milk before, but now I can't even bring myself to do that, so I go through how to make up fresh bottles.

By the time I get to Zen, it's six-thirty-eight and Thalia gives me a death glare. "You've got a client waiting in your room," she snaps. "You know how I feel about lateness."

I roll my eyes as I rush past her. "I'll give him a good show, he'll be fine."

Jimmy is already naked and wanking himself hard. I force a smile as I shrug from my coat. I'd usually do my makeup here and change before bringing a client up, but I get straight to it, beginning to strip from my clothing.

Working at Zen is easy money most of the time. Our clients are regulars, and apart from the smelly few, I don't mind any of them. Jimmy lost his wife a year ago. He's only forty-five and not bad looking, and it's a similar story to most of the men who come here. I don't talk to a lot of them, using the same strategy I use on the bikers, but with Jimmy, it's different. The first time I blew him, he burst into tears and told me all about his wife. I felt bad, and we spent the entire hour just talking.

"You're bruised," he says as I strip down to my underwear.

"Some clients like it rough," I say, pulling my hair back and tying it in place. "How have you been?"

"Worked up," he mutters.

I drop to my knees. "Let me help out there." I open a condom and roll it down his shaft.

I suck him into my mouth, and he groans before asking, "Do you think she can see?" I cup his balls, hoping we can get this done quickly. I'm starving, and I have soup in my bag. "Ellie," he continues. "Do you think she can see what we're doing?"

I let him fall from my mouth and gently push him to lie back. "Let's not think about it," I say, climbing over him.

"But if she could, she'd probably be pissed," he says, watching between us as I sink onto him.

"It's been six months, Jimmy. I don't think she'd be mad."

"You didn't know her. She was a fiery woman and so jealous."

I place my hands on his chest and begin to move, fucking him fast. "Oh fuck," I pant, like I'm having the time of my life. "Oh yes."

"Maybe she's with her mother," he says, panic on his face.

"Jesus, Jimmy, what's wrong with you tonight?" I ask, grabbing his hands and placing them over my bra. "I'm pulling out my best moves here, and you're thinking about your dead wife and mother-in-law watching us."

"Sorry," he mutters.

I turn so my back is to him and try again. Maybe if he's not looking at my face, he'll feel better. I grip his knees and sink down onto his cock. "That's it," I pant, "fill me up."

He comes hard a second later, groaning as I slow my movements. Thank the lord.

I'm halfwaythrough my soup when my bell rings, indicating my next client is coming up. I groan, placing the lid on my cup and rushing to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

"Why are you at work?" I huff out loud at the sound of Grizz's voice. "I went to see you and your babysitter answered. She's got a boy round there."

"So?" I mutter, going back into the bedroom.

"She's supposed to be watching Ivy, not canoodling with boys."

I smirk. "Canoodling?"

"You shouldn't be here after what happened."

I push the memories of Danny and his friend from my mind and sit in front of the mirror. "I have a client due."

"I'll give you the money," he says, and I frown. "If it means you take a few nights off to rest, I'll give you money."

"I don't need charity," I say, applying a little foundation to my skin.

"Fable—"

"Luna," I correct. "I'm only Fable when we're fucking."

"Jesus," he mutters, giving me that disgusted look again. "Please, will you take the night off and rest?"

"No." He sighs heavily and glances at his watch. "If I'm keeping you, feel free to leave."

"It's . . ." He trails off. "What time are you finishing?"

"Late."

"Luna," he snaps.

"I don't know," I say, shrugging. "Thalia is pissed I came in late, so she'll probably stick fat Malcolm on my list and he takes ages to finish." I notice how he balls his hands into fists, but he chooses not to comment. "Go about your business. I don't need a sitter, remember?"

He grumbles to himself and storms out.

After another half-hour, and once I've finished my soup, I head downstairs. Thalia looks up from her magazine. "Don't I have clients?"

"Not anymore," she says, arching a brow and going back to reading about celebrities.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"By order of Grizz," she says, shaking her head in irritation.

"Are you kidding me?"

"Nope. He left me strict instructions to send your clients to the other girls," she slams her magazine shut, "like they haven't been covering for you enough."

"What?" I screech. "I need the money."

"Oh, he took care of that," she says. "He covered what you would've made and then some. He must've left a grand in your pot."

I rush out to the reception area and grab my pot. We charge set fees and the club takes twenty percent. Our money is put into our own pots along with any tips. I pull out the roll of notes. "Jesus," I mutter. "What the fuck is his problem?"

"Maybe he's got the hots for you," Thalia singsongs. "It's about time he settles down."

"No, it's not that," I say on a sigh, keeping the money and heading back upstairs. I'm not sure what his game is, but it's definitely not that.