Page 68 of Brightness

City’s eyes shift to Ivy, and he raises a brow. “You the one with that special blood?” he asks, out of nowhere.

“Yeah, that’s me. Fuck! Word travels fast.”

Hurricane shakes his head. “Can’t even imagine the shit that has brought down on the club.”

Shaking my head, I exhale. “It’s been interesting, hasn’t it, Ivy?”

She snorts out a laugh. “You have no idea. Don’t even get me started on the events with Dash and the DeLucas.”

“As in Tony DeLuca?”

Ivy nods. “Yeah. He’s the one who initially ordered my sister and I be brought over from Cuba. It’s a whole thing. But basically, his daughter is sick, and my blood and hers is a match, and they needed me to donate, so they bought us and had us trafficked over here. And while we were there, our prospect, Dash, had to keep Tony’s daughter, Mia, entertained… it was hilarious. Let’s just say I have never looked at makeup the same again.”

I smirk as Hurricane and City share a look between them, then look to Void.

“Prospects, huh?” he says. “The shit they get themselves into.”

Ivy giggles. “I wish you all could have been there to see it. You would have laughed your asses off.”

“Don’t usually find human trafficking funny, sweetheart, but I’m glad it seems to have all worked out for you.” Hurricane gestures toward the bungalow. “All right, you two wanna come inside? I’ll show you ’round before we need to head off. Wanna make it back home before nightfall.”

“You got it, and thanks again for this, Hurricane. We owe you,” I tell him.

Hurricane dips his chin at me while walking us up the stoop, then inside the bungalow. I keep my arm wrapped around Ivy as we enter. It’s outdated, and the cream carpet is kind of a dull off-brown in places. The floral sofa has a red velvet throw over the top, making it appear even more like Grandma Mavis’s home. The television is one of those old-style square sets—it’s not even a Smart TV. The walls are lined with wood paneling, and little figurines litter every goddamn surface.

I’m in a damn nightmare.

Hurricane leads us into the kitchen, where the countertop is a green Formica, the wallpaper on the wall patterned in yellow florals, and I grimace. “Goddamn.”

“Gotta love the decor, right?” City chuckles.

“Better than a bullet to the head,” Hurricane adds.

I examine the floral lace curtains over the kitchen window, and my nose wrinkles. “To be determined.”

Ivy shrugs. “It has an old-world vibe. Like stepping into the past. Untouched, you know? There’s something unique in that.”

Hurricane snorts. “I don’t know what kind of fucking style you’re into, sweetheart, but you need better taste. This place is a disaster zone. We only keep it this way ’cause it’s low profile and fuckin’ low maintenance.”

“Well, I like it. It’s not pompous or overstated. It’s comfortable. Reminds me of home a little. My old home… in Cuba, I mean.”

“You have family back there?” Hurricane asks.

Ivy shakes her head. “No, just me and Eva. She’s in Tampa. How about you, do you have a family?”

Hurricane smiles wide. “Yeah, sure do. An Old Lady, kids, a twin brother, stepsiblings, a stepmother, the list keeps going… I know there are brothers out there who have no one. I’ve been real fuckin’ lucky.”

Ivy places her hand on Hurricane’s forearm, and a mournful smile touches her lips. “I lost my parents back in Cuba… I’m one of those unlucky ones. But I do have my sister, and that is a blessing.”

He places his hand on top of hers. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Ivy inhales sharply, shrugging her shoulders. “Enough of this sappy shit. How about you give us that tour you were talking about.”

Hurricane grins, then turns and walks toward the refrigerator. “The fridge is stocked, pantry’s full. You should have everythin’ you need for a prolonged stay. The club’s just under four hours away. If shit hits the fan, press this button…” he points to a button underneath the kitchen counter, “… and we’ll come,” he explains.

“Got it. Thanks again for the digs, brother. Really fucking appreciate it,” I tell Hurricane as he reaches out for City, pulling him by his shirt sleeve toward the door.

“The front door has extra locks… use ’em! And in the back of the library, there’s a panic room. I’ll text you the combination to the gun safe.”

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