Page 2 of Disturbed Lucidity

“Now that is a welcome home gift.”

Bound and gagged, hanging from a support beam, was none other than the fucking JAG investigator who’d destroyed my career just so he could advance up the ranks.

Taking a seat at the table next to Trash, I snuffed out my cigarette before lighting another. I glared at the hanging man before me.

“Why isn’t he struggling?”

Trash chuckled while he shuffled the deck of cards, and Agony sat stone faced.

“Agie wanted to have some fun,” Trash answered.

Quirking my eyebrow at him, I took a long drag off my cigarette and I waited for him to say something.

Instead, he leaned back in his chair, stretched his arms over his head, and sighed. “What?”

“Explain.”

From behind me, the snoring stopped, and Saint muttered, “Fucker stuck a cattle prod up the douchebag’s ass. Evil bastard rewired the damn thing to electrocute numbnuts here, every time he moved. Bastard learned quick and has been a fucking statue ever since.”

Glancing at Agony, my brother smirked.

Shaking my head, I looked at Logic. “Anyone know he’s missing?”

“Nope. Fucker was boarding a plane for San Marcos when we acquired him. No one will notice him missing for at least two weeks.”

“He say why he was going to the Philippines?”

“Vacation.” Saint groaned, rubbing his hands down his face. “Can I kill him now? I’m bored.”

Getting to my feet, I walked over to the soon-to-be-dead man and blew smoke in his face. Seeing him grimace put a smile on my face.

“You ready to talk, asshole?”

When the hanging man blinked twice, I knew this was going to be a long night.

Chapter One

Ivy

Present day,

“This can’t be right,” I whispered, reaching into my back pocket for my phone. I stared conspicuously at the large brick building across the street. I mean, it looked like any brick building on a semi-busy street, with the various motorcycles lined up. A big mountain of a man guarded the front door as numerous tattooed men fucked off doing God knows what, like they were at a Sunday picnic.

Guess it was a typical Tuesday.

Thumbing through my emails, I found the one I was looking for and opened it. Skimming the contents for the address he sent me; I sighed when I realized I was in the right place.

Lowering my phone, I looked across the street and groaned.

Really, Mikie? A motorcycle club?

When I reached out to my long-time friend and asked for a fresh start with no drama, I didn’t know what to expect. But it sure as hell wasn’t a damn motorcycle club. Talk about drama up the ass. I’d seen how bikers could be. Been around a few a time or two. The fuckers didn’t understand the meaning of drama-free.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, I stepped off the curb, only to jump back when a car horn blared when it drove past.

Jesus, Ivy. Don’t get yourself killed before you even see him.

Checking both ways, I saw a break in traffic and ran across the street. Bikes of all kinds lined up in front of the building as bikers milled lazily around, drinking without a fucking care in the world.

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