Page 19 of Disturbed Lucidity

So, imagine my surprise when earlier today a San Francisco police detective showed up at my door looking for the bitch. Then, not even an hour later, I get a call from a fucking detective in New York City looking for my new bartender. To make things even more interesting, this fucking detective was the sister of Storm, a brother in the Soulless Sinners MC.

How’s that for double the trouble?

My new bartender was hot, just not in a good way.

Leaning back in my chair, I watched as Slash pointed to a stool, forcing the girl to sit. He looked around the bar area, rubbing the back of his neck.

It was his tell.

He was worried.

He should be, because if my information was right, his friend was about to get kicked. I already had enough on my plate.

I didn’t need the police banging down my doors.

“Trash, go get Slash.”

Brother didn’t waste time as he threw open my door and whistled loudly, getting Slash’s attention.

The second he saw Trash, he ground his teeth.

Yeah, fucker knew shit was about to hit the fan.

Entering my office, Slash stood before my desk.

I didn’t believe in making shit comfortable for my crew.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you tell me that your friend was clean and wouldn’t be a problem?”

“She is clean.”

“Then why do I have two detectives looking for her?”

“It’s not what you think. She wanted nothing to do with the shit happening back in New York. That’s why she left.”

I growled.

I really fucking hated repeating myself.

“I asked Ivy. She doesn’t know why the detective is snooping around. However, she thinks it has something to do with her past. She barely remembers shit, Luc. She’s blocked it all. But she knows someone is out there looking for her. Over the years, she’s learned to read the signs. She constantly scours the papers, and when she reads of a body turning up with her mark, she flees. She’s been doing it since she was fourteen years old.”

“Do I look like a fucking therapist? Get to the goddamned point.”

“You know I found Ivy living on the streets before my mom took her in. That’s when we noticed she had a mark on her right shoulder. A burn mark—a trident. It was old. Been there for years. When we asked about it, she had no recollection of how she got it. She doesn’t even know who her parents are or where she came from. All she knew was her name. Hell, Luc, she didn’t even know how to read or write until my mom taught her.

“Ivy’s smart. Picked up shit quick. She stayed with Mom until I graduated NYU and left for the military. After that, she bounced around, trying to find out anything about her past. She has flashes of memory, but nothing concrete. Then one day I got a Red Cross letter telling me I needed to get home fast. Mom had to admit Ivy into a hospital. But Ivy was uncontrollable, so the hospital transferred her to another hospital upstate. Only it wasn’t a fucking hospital, Luc. It was the Lyssa Asylum for the Criminally Insane. By the time I got to her, they’d drugged her so fucking much, she didn’t even know who I was. It took me and Mom calling everyone we fucking knew to get her the fuck out of that place. By the time we got her clean and under the right care, I had to leave again. Look, Luc, I know this looks bad, and I take full responsibility for her, but I swear to you. Ivy is innocent.”

Glaring at my brother, I clearly said, “Don’t give a fuck. Don’t want some fucking sob story, and I really don’t want some police bitch showing up because of some crazy chick that isn’t blood.”

“Luc, no one knows she’s here.”

“Not my fucking problem. Got enough fucking drama already with Los Santanas. The first sign of trouble, that bitch is fucking gone. Got me? Don’t give a fuck if she sprouted from your dick. She’s kicked!”

“Got it, Prez.”

“Get the fuck out of here.”

The moment Slash was gone, I got to my feet and checked my guns when Agony pushed off the wall.

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