Page 23 of Disturbed Lucidity

“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.

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