Page 18 of Wild Night (Vicious Reapers MC #2)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

IVY

“You need to calm your fucking shit down,” a voice growls from a distance.

With my hands on my hips, I spit on the ground before I flick my attention up to meet the man who spoke.

“Shocker,” I grunt. “I would calm my shit, but there’s no way that is fucking possible,” I growl.

He doesn’t say anything else immediately. Instead, he walks away from the building and closes the distance between us, stopping directly in front of me. The old man is still in some damn good shape. I respect him too much to lay him out on the fucking ground, but that doesn’t mean I’m not tempted.

I’m really fucking tempted.

“We need a goddamn vice president,” I snap.

His lips twitch into a smirk as his eyes search mine for a moment. “Fucking women,” he mutters. “Clocked that girl the moment that red car pulled in, then watched as she unfolded from said red car in a matching sexy dress. Knew that bitch would turn your head.”

“Do you have a fucking point?” I ask.

He shakes his head. I can’t tell if he’s disappointed or frustrated with me. I don’t ask him because I’m afraid I won’t like the answer. Actually, I know I won’t like the answer. So I stay quiet.

“I do have a point. You need to calm your shit and think about this with a clear head.”

“Do you even know what is going on?” I ask.

There is a moment of silence while his gaze searches mine. When he takes half a step toward me, I’m not sure what he’s going to do. But what happens is something that I don’t imagine at all.

He wraps his arms around me in a hug, his fist slamming against the center of my back a few times before he breaks the hug. Before he steps backward, I feel his mouth against my ear, and that’s when he speaks.

“I know you fell hard for that girl. I know she’s gone. And I know you’re about to lose your fucking shit about it. But be smart, brother. Be fucking better than that shit. There is something brewing, and you don’t need to be messed up in it.”

“What if I want to be?” I ask.

He arches a brow but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he clears his throat and takes a step backward, his gaze searching mine. “You gotta make a decision about her. Is she the one?”

“I have to make that decision right now?” I ask.

“The time is now.”

I snort. “Fuck,” I hiss on a chuckle. “How can I be so goddamn mad yet laugh two seconds later?”

“Because I know you and everyone else here better than they know themselves.”

“So, what now?” I ask.

“Decide.”

Pressing my lips together, I think about ignoring this whole goddamn thing, fucking Lolita or Hazzard, maybe both, then moving on with my life. I don’t do any of that, even though I take a bit longer than I should to think about it before I respond.

“I want Posey,” I state. “But she’s in California, working for some crime syndicate that is a huge cocaine distributor, and has a fake husband.”

Shocker’s eyes widen, then he whistles before I continue.

“The club there won’t do shit because they have a treaty of some sort with said syndicate.

The husband is undercover and dirty as fuck.

And she’s there. No doubt he is, too. And I can’t leave because I have three active cases I need to attempt to focus on. ”

“Well, you’re in a goddamn pickle, ain’t you?” Shocker asks.

“That’s the fucking understatement of the goddamn century.”

Shocker snorts. “I got no skin in the game. However, I do know the club out there. Well, at least their fathers,” he says with a chuckle. “Let me help.”

“In California?” I ask.

“In California.”

Silence passes between us. I cannot believe that this man is offering what he is. But then I remember Dakota. He loves her. He would do anything to make her happy. This must be for her.

“Can you take anyone with you?”

His lips twitch into a smirk. “Why the fuck would I want to?”

“Shocker,” I warn.

“I’ll take the boys. Maverick and Goose love to get some strange. They’re down for a road trip.”

And that is that.

At least to Shocker it is. I’m not sure what the fuck is going to happen, but I can be assured that no matter what the fuck happens, Shocker will ensure that Posey is safe, for Dakota’s sake, if nothing else, and I’m banking on that.

One hundred fucking percent.

POSEY

I should be glad that Lucian allows me to put some clothes on. He shouts at me to hurry up and get dressed. So I do just that. But instead of putting on just anything, I decide that I need to wear something I can run in because I will be running. There is absolutely no way my story ends like this.

Not after I found Dakota. Not after I found Ivy. I refuse. Even if Ivy and I don’t work out, there are Dakota and Nathan. They are my family, and I want to know them. I want to have the opportunity to love them and show them that love.

What I don’t want is to be collateral in whatever this shit is.

This shit that I don’t know a damn thing about.

I do not deserve to die for it, so as I slide on my leggings, a snug-fitting T-shirt, a zip-up hoodie, socks, and my favorite sneakers, I attempt to hype myself up, at least on the inside.

Fight.

That is what I repeat to myself over and over.

Fight .

Then, the last thing I do, aside from dropping my phone in the inner zip pocket of my hoodie, I put my hair up in a high ponytail. These clothes are a far cry from what I would normally wear to go out in public, but I don’t care. This isn’t about appearing polished and put together.

This is about survival .

“That is an interesting choice to die in. I figured you’d be draped in your coveted jewelry and expensive shoes I bought you, carrying one of your prized bags.”

It’s true. Lucian bought me all that stuff, but not because I demanded he do it. Hell, not because I even asked. This man was trying to seduce me, and it worked. He basically bought me with gifts, and I let him.

I’m no different than the girls at the Vicious Reapers clubhouse. That realization slaps me in the face, and I want to burst out in tears. I don’t, but really freaking want to. Because there I was, judging them when at the end of the day, I am exactly like them… maybe just a little flashier.

“I don’t plan on dying,” I state.

He snorts but otherwise doesn’t speak. Instead, he grips my bicep tightly, so tightly that I know I’m going to have bruises there that will no doubt match the ones around my neck from his fingers.

God.

What a complete asshole. I don’t know why I thought I loved this man. I don’t know why I thought he would be a good choice to marry and make babies with. I’m an idiot. I saw money, gifts, and things and assumed there would be a security I’d never experienced before.

Epic fail.

Hugely epic.

Lucian drags me to the car, opens the door, and nonchalantly tosses me into the passenger seat before he slams the door and walks around the front of the car. I watch as he sinks down in the driver’s seat and starts the engine. But he doesn’t shift it into Drive immediately.

Instead, he turns to me, his eyes connecting to mine. I can sense the hate pouring out of him, and I don’t understand it at all. I haven’t done anything to him. He’s done it all to me tenfold.

“Hand me your phone,” he demands.

I don’t know why I thought I could get away with keeping my phone. Maybe I had hoped he’d overlooked the fact I had it. That I kept it and zipped it up. But he didn’t. Reaching into the pocket on the inside of my hoodie, I unzip it and take my phone out, then reluctantly slip it into his palm.

Before I realize what’s happening, he reaches backward and slams the back of his hand against my face. My whole body shifts and my head slams against the glass of the passenger window.

“Stupid bitch,” Lucian growls.

He shifts the car into Drive and pulls away from the curb wordlessly, heading straight for the winery. I know that’s where he’s going. Not only because I drove this route every single day, to and from, for years but also because it’s the only thing in this direction.

The winery is surrounded by nothingness. It’s a beautiful oasis near the beach, surrounded by coastal foothills and rocks… so many rocks in three directions. The fourth is the ocean itself.

The entire drive, I not only hope but pray that someone is either able to stop him from whatever it is he has planned or that I have a moment to run.

I know that winery like the back of my hand, and if I get the chance, I’m out of there.

I would rather die in the foothills than by this asshole’s hands.