Page 93 of Disturbed Lucidity

If those motherfuckers thought they could come back and finish the job, they were in for a fucking shock.

Seconds later, several bikes slowed, pulling into the parking lot. Taking aim, I didn’t give a fuck if they were friend or foe. Motherfuckers said anything I didn’t like, stepped one foot in the wrong direction, I was going to fucking kill them all.

I watched when the lead rider held up his hands and slowly stepped off his bike. Dressed in black leather, I couldn’t find any identifying marks on them to tell me who they were or what club they rode with. Even their blacked-out helmets gave nothing away.

“Stay back!” I screamed, halting the brave fucker. “I will shoot you!”

One of the other riders quickly removed his helmet and shouted, “Ivy, it’s me!”

Gasping for air, I lowered my gun and cried, “Dr. Lansing. Help! Pyle’s hurt bad.”

Running over to me, Dr. Lansing dropped to his knees, placing his black-gloved hands over mine. “Harder, Ivy. You need to press harder.”

“No, she doesn’t.” Pyle grimaced in pain.

“Yo, Doc,” TBAR shouted as he administered CPR on ALF. “Hope there’s more of you, ‘cause my buddy isn’t breathing!”

“Mercy!” Dr. Lansing snapped. “Go help him.”

The bikers in black all moved, scattering in different directions, some holding guns in their hands when they cautiously entered the clubhouse and the lead rider walked over to me.

“Are you Ivy Scott?” the big man asked.

“Not if you’re here to kill me.”

The man shouted, “Malice, it’s her!”

Turning, I saw a big motherfucker slowly walk toward me, taking off his helmet. Seeing his face, I stiffened. Without thinking, I stumbled back, scooting away from him, raising my gun and pointing it directly at the motherfucker.

“WHOA!” the lead rider shouted, jumping in front of the man. “It’s not him! He’s not Devlin Scott!”

“Ivy!” another voice shouted, rushing over.

Blinking, I thought I was seeing things.

What the fuck was Father Dominic doing here? He too stood protectively in front of the spitting image of the man who’d tormented me my whole life.

“Sweetheart, it’s not him. I swear to God, it’s not him.”

Shaking my head, I didn’t know who to believe. I knew what my eyes were seeing, and standing not even ten feet from me was my father, Devlin Scott, in the flesh.

“Ivy, Gideon is your brother.”

“Don’t have a brother, Padre.”

“Yes, you do.” Father Dominic slowly approached while I kept my gun pointed at the fucker. I wasn’t taking any chances. “Please, sweetheart. We came all this way.”

A loud roar echoed all around as everyone turned just in time to see Luc rush my father’s doppelgänger, tackling him to the ground, beating the ever-loving shit out of him.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” the lead biker shouted, rushing over to the fighting duo.

“Never a dull moment with you, Ivy,” Dr. Lansing muttered.

“Just keeping you on your toes, Doc,” I retorted, getting to my feet. Gun still in my hand, I strode over to the group of men, trying unsuccessfully to pull my man off the look-alike fucker before he killed him.

The tension in the clubhouse was palpable.

I could cut it with a knife. The brothers of Disturbed sat on one side and the brothers of Soulless Sinners Motorcycle Club sat on the other. In the middle of the room sat Montana Stone, the president of the Soulless Sinners, glaring at Luc, who refused to say a fucking word.

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