Page 5 of Corrupting Ivy

The tightening in my chest let up, but something in the back of my mind told me to brace for impact. This would not be the end, and I should prepare myself to leave at a moment’s notice.

“Right.” I snickered. “You all have the same amount of energy as I do. It’s hard to remember you consider yourself old.”

There were times that I’d be ready to collapse to my bed, and Walter would run around at his own pace, accomplishing tasks I would have left for tomorrow.

He chuckled, finding my observation amusing.

“So, what really happened out there?”

Plating the eggs and bacon, along with toast, I filled him in with the same details as the sheriff, then took the plates to Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery, sitting on the barstools.

“Hi, dear. We saw your terrible run in today,” she said.

Smiling, I poured them a refill of coffee. I didn’t want to talk about it, but this was how things go around a town so small—they were always moving their lips. Nothing was safe.

“It was Otis that discovered it. I was just running.”

So it was a small fib. That’s okay. They didn’t need to know that some freak watched me in the woods and scared me to death.

“You and Otis, huh?” Mrs. Montgomery smiled and placed her elbow on the red, retro sparkling tabletop, resting her chin on her fist—a silent invitation to continue.

“No. Nothing like that. I was jogging in the woods... alone.”

The last thing I would want is for anyone to imply that Otis and I were doing something behind his girlfriend, Rachel’s back. She was… born and raised here. The town would take her side over mine in a heartbeat.

She raised her brows, her head moving up with them, then nodded her acceptance. I exhaled.

Dodging bullets left and right today, Ivy.

Three weeks later

I placed my thumbagainst her pulse in her throat, feeling the life beat just beneath her skin.

“Take care of yourself, Charity.”

Charity and I were a special breed. Both created by chaos. We went through hell and back with a harrowing rescue mission against an Oligarch that met with the Mexican military—something we weren’t expecting. Going against my better judgment, we proceeded with the mission as planned.

It went flawlessly.

I walked away from her and stepped up onto the wooden porch that stunk of rotting wood.

“Ma.”

The woman that brought me up stood before me, dressed in a pale pink nightgown that covered her legs right down to the tips of her toes.

“Spence.”

God, I hated it when she called me that. It stirred up dark memories of my childhood.

Charity drove the truck out of the long, gravel driveway and disappeared down the road, back home to deliver the girl… the product of our mission.

“Don’t call me that.”

“It’s your name,” she said, narrowing her eyes.

I sighed. It wasn’t worth arguing with her.

“What’s with the phone call, Ma?”

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