Page 9 of Royal Sons MC

“Yeah, that would be the day. Imagine me on a farm in the middle of Iowa. I’m sure the entire town would flip if I went with you. Besides, this is my home.” She gestured toward the mess. Yes, Luke and she shared the place, but it was her name on the lease. “Plus, I just graduated. How many jobs do you think are in Iowa waiting for the likes of me?”

Darian looked her up and down, stopping once he met her eyes. “You could tone down the badass biker chick. You’re gorgeous, smart, and way too good for the jerks who did this.”

“Let’s just clean this mess up. I’ll help you get your stuff together.” Her mind was already on the tasks at hand. Replacing some of the broken pieces would be put on the back burner. Her fingers flew to her mouth. “Did they go into the bedrooms?” Her body jerked as she walked down the hallway toward her room, across from Luke’s and Darian’s.

“No, they must’ve just gotten in before I walked in on them. At first, I thought you’d come home, so I yelled for you. I think that was a big fat match to their flame. I didn’t have time to do anything except yelp when one of the big fuckers grabbed me by the neck, shoving me inside the door.”

Ivy and Darian worked through the rest of the evening, filling five large garbage bags with trash and things Darian said he no longer wanted or needed. Her hand brushed over the clothing left in the walk-in closet. The familiar scent of Luke’s cologne tickled her nose. When Darian sighed, she’d looked up to see the pain he couldn’t erase from his busted-up face. “I’ll see you again,” she whispered. She wasn’t sure if she meant Darian or Luke. She only knew her world was being rocked again. Fucking Royal MC and their bastard ways.

It was close to midnight. The apartment was silent, save for the clock on the wall ticking. Her mind wouldn’t settle. Fear was no longer something she seemed to feel. Everyone she’d cared about was gone now that Darian had left. “How pathetic, the only men in my life had loved each other, leaving me on the outside looking in.” That had been her life growing up. Luke was her angel when she needed him. His loss had a sob escaping before she could quell it. Her body moved on autopilot, double-checking that the newly replaced door with its three sets of deadbolts was locked. It would be a hell of a lot harder for the Sons to break down a steel door with deadbolts like she had installed.

Luckily, she’d known a locksmith who also replaced doors. He had grey hair that looked like he’d stuck his finger in a light socket, resembling Albert Einstein, but he was fast and efficient, everything she’d needed.

The moment he’d looked at the door and then her, he’d shook his head but didn’t say anything more until the new door was in place. Ivy had to bite her tongue to keep from telling him to mind his business, only holding the sharp retort in because he truly appeared genuine in his comments and suggestions.

Like she needed him, or anyone, to tell her to lock all three locks, or not to open the door unless she knew who was on the other side. Instead, she’d listened to him say what he wanted, thanked him for rushing to replace the busted door, and ensured she had one that was ten times better.

Now, hours later, that same door taunted her. If she and Luke had the door a month ago, maybe, just maybe, he’d still be alive. Instead, he and Darian had been making out on the couch when King had strolled in. She shuttered, imagining what the big man had looked like at that moment. Luke said he and Darian hadn’t been caught outright, but he worried King or Duke would find out. “Why didn’t I convince him to come out?” she asked, banging her head against the wall. The pain from the impact didn’t stop her from doing it again.

Getting up, she triple-checked the locks, then walked down the hallway, hating the emptiness of the apartment and her heart. Tomorrow, she’d see about a new place to live.

Chapter Four

“What do you think?”He held a mirror out for King to take. The big son of a bitch didn’t have a lot of open canvas on his body, but Tymber had taken the art already there as a layer beneath what he was putting on him. The end result was kickass, in his opinion. Luckily, the president of the MC agreed, his dark eyes taking in the two clasped hands holding a rosary with the wordsBrothers Forever. Even In Deathwas written along the cross that hung from the praying hands.

“Looks great, man. Thanks for getting me in at the last minute.” King shrugged into his leather cut, his dark eyes not missing anything. “If you ever need anything, give me a holler.” He held his hand out, shaking Tymber’s.

“I appreciate that. I don’t need to give you aftercare instructions, do I?” he asked, shaking his head at the absurd notion. The other man had almost as many tattoos as he did.

“I’m good. See you around,” King stated, his hand releasing Tymber’s. “Remember what I said. If you need anything, give me a holler. The Sons will come without a question.”

Tymber agreed to call if the need ever arose. In the back of his mind, he contemplated what could happen that he’d need the help of the club. He knew about patches and their significance, which was how he knew King was the president. Not seeing a 1% patch on the cut didn’t mean they weren’t an outlaw club. It just meant they didn’t announce it to the world, or he missed it. Nobody could ever say he was a fool, and only a fool would’ve asked a member of the Royal Sons MC if they were or not. He preferred to keep his head attached to his unbeaten body. Thank you very much. He wasn’t scared to take on any of the club members one-on-one. However, he was pretty sure if you fucked with one, you fucked with them all. He hadn’t survived fucking breast cancer, only to get his ass handed to him by one of the brothers.

“You look like you’re contemplating a big problem. Want my advice?” King asked from the doorway.

He had to shake himself to pull his mind back to the present. “Hit me with it.”

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