Ivy’s checked out. I feel it in the coldness of her demeanor. She’s angry, not necessarily at me, but at the situation. I’ll let her calm down, but when we get to the safe house, she’ll have to pep herself up because we’re going to have company.
Whether she likes it or not.
Chapter Seventeen
VOID
Ivy’s quiet, she has been for the three-and-a-half-hour drive to Pearson Island. Leaving the clubhouse and her sister is hard, I get that. It’s all she knows here in America, but honestly, we had no choice. The safehouse is our best bet right now. I haven’t been to Demon’s safe house, but I’ve heard good things. It sits buried in dense brush with a creek running along the back as another layer of escape if you need it.
As we pull to the very back of the small island, a medium-sized house comes into view. A long driveway leads down to the main building. I turn off the road toward the yellow clapboard-clad bungalow.
A small stoop leads up to the front entry with a small porch out the front, and a couple of rocking chairs. To be honest, this looks more like Grandma Mavis’ retirement home than a biker’s hideout.
But I guess that’s the entire point, isn’t it?
Ivy sits higher in her seat taking it all in. The trees gently sway in the breeze of the afternoon Florida sunshine. It’s humid today as I swipe the sweat away from my brow.
“This is not what I expected,” Ivy murmurs under her breath.
I pull the truck up next to two bikes in the drive, relieved she’s finally talking to me. “Gotta keep a low profile, that’s the trick of it.”
She slowly nods her head, turning back to the window. “We have company?”
As if they hear her, Demon and Drake both pop their heads out of the bungalow to check on us. I raise my hand in greeting. “Demon’s the prez of Savannah, Drake’s their VP. This is their place, so they’re here to check us in.”
She turns to me, fighting the corner of her lips turning up. “Our very own biker motel.”
“C’mon, let’s not be rude to our hosts.”
Reaching out, I grab her fingers, lift them to my lips, kissing the back of her hand. Her soft lips finally stretch upward, they don’t quite reach her eyes, which are still dull with sadness. My chest aches for her as I turn to slide out of the car.
Demon and Drake stomp down the stoop toward us, Drake’s shaggy dark hair is a little more disheveled today than usual. “You took your sweet-ass time gettin’ here. We’ve been waitin’ for hours, Void,” Drake calls out, but he’s sporting a smirk.
I roll my eyes. “It takes longer to get here in a cage than on a bike, asswipe. You know that. Cut me some slack.”
“All I’m sayin’ is you need to push the accelerator pedal to the metal a little harder next time. I got places I need to be—”
“Drake, calm the fuck down. We need to show them around the bungalow.” Demon slaps his VP on the back but raises his chin to me. “Void… got yourself into some shit, I see?”
Ivy steps to my side, and I wrap my arm around her protectively. “Apparently… seems more like shit found us. We just don’t know who’s targeting us.”
Demon grumbles under his breath, “That old chestnut, hey? Well, you’re welcome here for as long as you need. Just don’t mess up the place too much, yeah?”
Drake’s eyes linger on Ivy, his eyes twitch a little as he takes a step closer. “You the one with that special blood?” he asks out of nowhere.
I furrow my brows as Ivy stands taller, puffing out her chest.
My woman isn’t scared of any damn thing. Not even an inhospitable biker she’s only just met.
“Yeah, that’s me. Fuck! Word travels fast between these clubs.”
Demon shakes his head. “Drake, keep yourself in check, man.”
Drake steps forward again, another inch closer to Ivy, but she doesn’t back away. “Can I have a sample?”
Ivy jerks her head back. “Of what?”
“Your blood?”
“Fuck’s sake,” Demon mumbles as I flare my nostrils in anger.
“Fuck off! What fucked-up shit is that, Drake? I know we owe Savannah for the use of the safehouse, but Ivy’s blood is not the toll.”
Drake huffs out a laugh, taking a step back, then rolling his shoulders. “Fine! But if you ever change your mind…”
Ivy chuckles.
She actually chuckles.
Girl’s got more compassion in her than a saint. “Yeah, yeah… I’ll call you.”
Demon grabs his VP, yanking him back by his cut. “You’re a weird fucker. Leave Ivy the hell alone. They have enough to deal with without your blood fetish.”
“Can’t blame a guy for tryin’?” Drake winks.
I CAN blame a guy for trying!
“You’re not the first person to want my blood, Drake, so don’t worry, I don’t take it personally. And, I certainly don’t think you’re a weird fucker,” Ivy reassures the Savannah VP.
I shake my head.
“You’re all right, Ivy,” Drake gushes out while eyeing her up and down.
Demon gestures toward the bungalow. “Come inside, I’ll show you ‘round before these two start braidin’ each other’s hair.”
I try to hold back my laugh, but I’m not all that successful.
Ivy shrugs it off. “Drake does have nice hair, though,” she fires back at Demon.
Demon groans 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 color in places. The floral sofa has a red velvet throw rug over the top, making it appear like Grandma Mavis’ 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 are sitting on every goddamn surface.
Demon leads us into the kitchen where the countertop is a green Formica, the wallpaper on the wall is patterned in yellow florals, and I grimace.
Drake chortles to himself. “Gotta love this décor, right?”
Ivy shrugs. “I dunno, it has an old-worldly vibe about it. Untouched, you know? There’s something unique in that.”
Demon snorts. “I don’t know what kind of fuckin’ style you’re into, sweetheart, but you need better taste. This place is a disaster zone. We only keep it this way because it’s low profile… and fuckin’ low maintenance, too.”
“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 home?” Demon asks.
Ivy shakes her head. “No, just me and Eva. She’s back in Tampa. How about you, you have a family?”
Demon’s eyes glaze over. “Nope, no one.”
Ivy places her hand on Demon’s forearm, a sympathetic smile touches her lips. “I lost my parents too back in Cuba… I’m sorry for your loss.”
He rolls his shoulders, which causes her hand to slip from his arm.
Demon turns, walking toward the fridge.