Chapter 13

Stone

"This place hasn't changed at all." I smile and look around the small bar that's been a staple in Opey since I was old enough to know what the hell a bar was. The old pine bar has a few more scratches than when I was last here. The stools still only swivel in one direction, and the owner, Smoky, is a little grayer and giving off angry old man vibes.

"Yeah well, you're bigger and older now. Got that California look," Smoky teases as he grabs three bottles of beer for me, Ford and Nova. "You boys ain't here to cause no trouble, are ya?"

"No sir," I assure him, smiling as I lay two twenties on the bar. "We're here to shoot some pool and a few cold ones, that's it. Next round is on me, too."

Smoky's salt and pepper brows shoot up and deep dimples form in his dark skin. "Oh, fancy pants. Guess you'll be leaving a mighty fine tip."

"With this shoddy service," I joke. "We'll see."

"Hmph," Smoky grumbles and pours three shots, lining them up on the bar in front of us. "Good to have you home, son. On me."

"Damn, Smoky. I come in here all the time, and you never give me a damn thing," Ford's brows dip into a frown.

"I give you the drinks you pay for, and I don't tell none of your girls about the others." Smoky pulls out a tray of balls and a rack. "Enjoy your game, boys."

"I guess we should toast this fucker, eh?" Ford flashes a wide grin, swiping one of the shots off the bar. "Good to have you back, Stone. To kickin' ass and takin' names."

"I'll drink to that." Nova picks up the other shot, leaving the last one for me. "Welcome home."

"Thanks." We take the shots and slam the glasses down hard. I take two beers, and Ford grabs the balls before we head to the back of the bar, where four pool tables line the wall.

Nova racks the balls while Ford and I test the cue sticks. "How is it being back?"

I shrug. "It's all right, man. How's it been around here?"

"Same old, same old. Bikes, bitches, and bullshit. Literally." Ford snorts.

"You got an old lady yet?"

"Do you see me with a pretty girl on my arm, Stone? No. I was hanging out with Beatrice until she got up and left. Took off one day, never to be seen again. Heard from her about a year ago. Says she's in New York City. Chasing her dreams, if you can believe that.

"Damn, man, that's tough," I say, and Ford goes to break the balls.

The bar is mostly empty at this time of day, which is perfect because we can all relax without constantly looking over our shoulders. It's peaceful in a way I hadn't expected when I returned. Then again, the nonstop action in California might have given me an unrealistic expectation of biker life.

"You're up," Ford calls out, pulling me from my thoughts. "Stone ever tell you about the time he stole Gunnar's bike?"

I look up to see Nova's shocked expression. "You didn't."

I smile. "I did."

"You're still alive to tell the tale."

I shrug.

Ford laughs. "Only because Peaches wouldn't let him kill the kid. He was young, about twelve or thirteen, took the kutte and everything. Lucky the little fucker trapped his leg when the damn thing tipped over before he got off the ranch."

Nova and Ford howl with laughter, and even my own lips stretch into a smile. "Yeah, and I got stuck cleaning horse shit for six months."

"But when you turned fifteen, you got that little sportster."

"You laugh, but I loved that bike." I'd zip around the ranch on it until the next year when I got the beauty that's sitting outside in the parking lot. "And when it became mine, I knew, without a doubt, I'd be a biker."

"Who do we got here, boys?" The voice is unfamiliar, but the tone is unmistakably mocking, the sound of someone looking for trouble.

I turn, taking in the look of the two men in black kuttes with visible patches on both sides. "Y'all need something?"

"Nothing you can offer." The taller of the two men steps forward, his long dark hair hanging around his shoulders. "We came for pool and found something even better." His gaze lingers on me as if we know each other.

I take a step forward until only a few feet separate us. "Then I suggest you move the fuck on."

His lips split into a satisfied grin. "Or what?"

"Or I'll make you move on," I assure him as heat pumps through my blood. My heart speeds up because I already know I'm about to kick this dude's ass. Dad says I live for it, and the older I get, the more certain I am that he's dead fucking right. "Don't make me tell you again."

"You'll make me?" he laughs, looking over his shoulder at his friend with the buzzcut. "You and what army?"

"Don't start no shit up in here," Smoky calls out in warning.

"You heard him," I growl, nose to nose with this fucker. "Move the fuck on."

He steps back, and I watch his every move. "Yeah, fine," he says with his hands in the air. But just as I suspect, he leans forward on his left foot, throwing a right cross my way.

I duck out of the way and reward his effort with two body shots to the side. "Too slow, asshole." A well-placed uppercut sends him stumbling backward into his friend.

He straightens up and charges me, knocking me back onto the pool table. "You're a dead man," he growls, pulling back to punch me.

I turn my head, and his fist slams into the pool table, making him cry out in pain. Never one to pass up an opportunity to kick some ass, I grab a ball and crack him on the side of the head with it. I smile as he steps back, holding his head. "Get out. Now."

"Fuck you," the other one spits in my direction. He's talking a lot of shit, but Ford is standing in front of him. Ford's big and fit as fuck, a terrifying figure if you value your life.

The sound of a switchblade sliding out brings me back to the black-haired asshole. "Well, now the fun is really getting started," he growls.

Three loud thuds sound, and we all turn to find Smoky with his shotgun in his hand, slamming it against the bar. "Out. Now. All of you." He grips the handle and aims. "Go on, now."

Not wanting to fuck up Smoky's place, I shove the man back. "You heard him. Go." I know Smoky means all of us, but I'm having too much fun fucking with this asshole. "Sorry, Smoke."

He waves off my apology, but I can see the hint of a smile on his face. He has a business to protect. I get that. But I also know he's a friend of the MC and always has our backs.

When we're close to the exit, I push the asshole out the door, leaving him scrambling not to fall over. "Careful."

He steadies himself and turns to me with pure hatred on his face. "Your old man isn't here to help you now," he sneers, waving his blade.

I hear the door open again behind me, and I know it's his friend along with Ford and Nova. Knowing they have a handle on the other guy, I loosen my limbs and smile. It's been a while since I had a good fistfight. "You gonna talk or fight?"

He lunges forward, leading with the knife, and I grab his wrist and twist it with one hand, landing an elbow and then a fist against the side of his head. He's down on his knees and sucker punches me in the dick.

I stumble back a step, but I still have his wrist, and I twist it until I hear a snap somewhere near the elbow. He cries out, and the sound only makes me smile wider. The switchblade falls to the ground, and I release his wrist. He hits me with a gut shot as he gets to his feet, and then we're face to face, squaring up once again.

We need no words as we lunge forward at the exact same time. He's trying to grapple with me, but the side of my fist lands three times on his head. When he bends over to grab his head, I push my knee up into his face, and he falls backward onto the ground.

For a split second, I have a flashback of another man lying just like that on the pavement. Bobby Lee's still form is what I see for a split second, and it's that mistake that gives him the edge.

When my head clears, he's on his feet and moving closer, the blade back in his hand. He's waving his arm wildly, the other arm hangs limp at his side. The blade slices against the outside of my bicep. It's little more than a scratch and well worth the advantage it gives me. "Wrong move."

He smirks. "Think again, asshole." He draws his arm back, and the blade falls on an arc. I grab his wrist again, and his eyes go wide when he realizes what's about to happen.

"Fuck," he grunts, trying to reach out with his other, useless arm to stop the forward momentum of the knife hand, but it"s not moving. The arm I broke earlier hangs dead at his side.

"Too late," I assure him and continue the arc until his blade goes straight through his throat with only the handle sticking out.

His eyes are filled with shock and horror that quickly turns to fear as he realizes his fatal mistake. He drops to his knees, his good hand clutching weakly at the protruding knife handle as blood pours out. Then he keels over to the side, and all movements stop, life fading from his eyes.

"Shit!" His friend looks at me, and I step in his direction. "I'm out!" he says and takes off running across the parking lot. He jumps on his bike and takes off.

"He'll be back with more of his boys," Ford says. "Let's get out of here."

"Do I need to look at that gash?" Nova asks.

I look down at my arm, at the blood on my t-shirt, and shrug. "Nah, I'm okay. Just one thing." I kneel down and flip the dead fucker over to get a look at his patches. "Skull Crushers. Never heard of 'em," I say to myself, snatching the kutte from his body.

While Smoky calls 911, we hop on our bikes and take off to the ranch.

I know I'll have to talk to Dad about this eventually, but right now there's just one person I want to talk to. So, I rush into the bunkhouse and clean myself up before going to The Barn Door. Could use a voice of reason right about now.

There she is, hustling behind the bar, shaking up drinks like nobody's business. Ivy's grin stretches ear to ear as she works that cocktail shaker, flashing me a glimpse of her pearly whites.

I sidle up to the bar and lean against it to watch her interact with a couple who can't keep their hands to themselves. She pours the liquid into two tall shot glasses. "Two Buttery Nipples."

The man pays for the drinks, hardly paying Ivy any mind as he growls at the woman. "I can't wait to lick this off your cunt."

"Me neither," the woman sighs, leading him away by a leather leash attached to a metal ring on the collar around his neck.

I turn, and my gaze collides with Ivy's. She takes in the bruise starting to form on my jaw, and her eyes flash wide. I'm grateful she only asks, "Beer or something stronger?"

"Yes."

She laughs and rolls her eyes as she pours a shot of tequila. "Unless you want something fruitier?"

I toss my head back and laugh. "I gotta tell you, Ivy, these California jokes will never get old."

"We'll see about that." She sets a shot and a lager in front of me. "Are you all right, Stone?"

I nod. "I'm good. I promise." The promise is how I always let her know that I might be hurt or banged up, but it was nothing serious.

Ivy sighs in relief. "Good. What's up?"

"I need to talk to you." It's time to clear the air and maybe apologize for the laundry list of mistakes I've made.

Ivy nods, her thick dark curls brushing against her shoulder as she looks around the bar. There's a wariness in her blue eyes that troubles me. The last thing I want is for Ivy to be guarded around me.

"If now isn't a good time?"

"It is," she assures me quickly. "Hazel is going to take over the rest of my shift. She and Saint have something planned, and that's all I need to know."

I laugh and work on my drinks while she finishes wiping the bar and cleaning the glasses. Hazel approaches, and they chat for a few minutes before Ivy rounds the bar and heads my way. She's wearing a denim dress that hits mid-thigh, showing off toned legs and arms, oblivious to all the attention she attracts.

"Ready?" Her smile comes easier today, giving me hope for getting our friendship back on the right track.

"Yeah, I'm ready." The moment we leave the club, Ivy shivers in the chilly night air. Without thinking, I drape an arm around her to share my warmth. It's second nature.

She smiles. "How many times have we done this?"

"More times than I can recall because you're terrible at anticipating the weather." I bump her hip with mine. "Do you even own a jacket?"

Her head falls back, and a low laugh escapes. "I'm sure I have one…somewhere."

We bypass my bike in favor of her car. "I'll drive."

"I'll drive," she emphasizes. "And I have the keys." Ivy dangles the keys from her fingers, and a triumphant smile lights up her face. I move as if I'm going to snatch the keys, and Ivy shrieks before taking off to her car.

It's like old times, and I'm still smiling when I slide into the passenger's seat. "This damn thing is meant for a midget."

"Just slide the seat back, you big oaf."

"Oaf?" I laugh as I grip the handle beneath the seat and release it to give myself more legroom. "I think you mean Viking. It's what all the Old Ladies in California called me."

Her gaze slides to mine, and she studies me for a long moment. "Yeah, I guess I can see it. But Lord knows your ego doesn't need me to add to the fire." The car starts easily, and she drives down the dark road leading to the highway.

The silence is weird at first, but the longer it lasts, the more excruciating it becomes. There's never been a moment of silence between me and Ivy, not like this, and I cannot fucking handle it.

"Look, I'm sorry if my coming back isn't what you wanted." It feels weird as fuck to apologize for coming back home, but I can't deny she seems skittish, maybe uneasy around me.

Ivy lets out a bitter laugh that stings like a burr in the back of my throat. "You left, Stone. You left without a word of goodbye, then you stroll back in like the prodigal cowboy returning home, expecting a warm welcome. But fuck, of course, I feel some kind of way. We spent nearly every day together, and then you were just gone. For five years."

My hands ball into fists so tight my knuckles ache, and I purposely stretch them out and force myself to relax. "That's why I'm apologizing. I know this isn't easy for you, and I'm sorry, Ivy. I'm really fucking sorry, okay?"

She nods, but Ivy doesn't say anything for a long time. "I always knew," she begins but stops, shaking her head. "I always assumed you'd be back someday. Didn't think it would take so long, but I knew you'd be back. It's just…" she sighs again and turns toward me. "It's just weird having you back all of a sudden. But don't think that I'm not happy to see you, Stone. I am so fucking glad to see with my own eyes that you're safe. Happy. Here. You look…good. And I'm happy."

I'm not sure if she's trying to convince herself or me, but I accept her words at face value. "You look good too, Ivy. You're a real knockout."

She grins, rolling her eyes, but the blush crawling up her body tells me the compliment hit its mark. "Yeah, yeah. Save your charm, big guy."

Her headlights cut through the dark roads. This far from the city, there aren't any streetlights, so other than the headlights, the night is pitch black. "So."

"So," she repeats, a smile in her tone.

"Sage doing all right? I remember she used to get on your nerves, always following you around and borrowing your clothes."

They'd fight like cats and dogs sometimes, and then suddenly, it would all be forgotten.

"Oh, she still gets on my nerves," Ivy assures me with an affectionate laugh. "But only the way a sister can. After we lost our parents, we grew closer. Hell, she's my best friend these days. My super annoying best friend who still steals my clothes and drinks the last beer in the fridge without replacing it, and who I can come to when I'm having a shitty day, and she'll grab a bottle of cheap tequila, tacos, and ice cream to make me feel better."

"That's good, Ivy. Real good."

"Yeah. How is it being back under your parents' roof?"

I groan.

"That good, huh?"

"I love my folks. You know that. But I've been taking care of myself for a while now, so it's weird. But Ma has a way of spoiling me, making it not too bad."

"And Gunnar?"

My loud bark of laughter echoes inside the car. "I'm just trying each day not to fuck up. If I don't disappoint him, then I consider it a win."

Dad is a hard ass, but he has to be. The weight of the ranch and the MC is all on his shoulders. It's a great weight to carry and he does it the best way he knows. Grumpy and loud

"He's just testing you. Did you guys talk much while you were away?"

"Nope. Too busy trying to stay alive. Free."

I don't know how long we drive around, talking and laughing, reclaiming what I missed most during my time in Angel Harbor. But eventually, we're back on the road leading to the ranch.

She turns to me and says, "In some ways, you haven't changed at all."

Neither has she, not really. She's grown and more mature, but the girl I know is still in there.

"So, we're good?" I hold my breath and wait, knowing that if she says we're not that I'm going to do every fucking thing I can to change her mind.

"Yeah, Stone. We're good." Her car comes to a gentle stop right in front of my bike. "Good luck with whatever it is you don't want to talk about." She sighs and points to my face, then my arm.

"Yeah, thanks." I give her one last look before I tug a lock of her hair. Then I step out of the car and head to my bike. The kutte from earlier still hangs on it, and I know I've put it off long enough.

Time to face the music. To tell Dad what happened tonight.

If Ford or Nova haven't already filled him in.