Page 22 of Wild Night (Vicious Reapers MC #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

IVY

My phone rings. Groaning, I roll over and grab it from my nightstand, opening my eyes to check who is calling. The screen is so fucking blurry that I can’t make out the name, so I just slide my thumb across the screen and hold it to my ear, hoping it’s actually a call I want to take.

I cannot continue to fucking drink like I have been. I can’t even focus on a damn phone screen.

“Ivy,” I growl.

“We made it,” Shocker states on the other end of the line.

Sitting up, I lift my hand to my forehead and groan as the room spins. I feel lightheaded and heavy-headed simultaneously. I’m a fucking disaster, and I need to detox. He doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he clears his throat as he waits for me to get my shit together.

I do—barely.

“But?” I ask.

Shocker chuckles before he continues. “You knew there was a but, and there is,” he says.

I don’t respond, knowing that I need to use every brain cell that is somewhat functioning and sober to soak in and understand his words.

“They won’t let us talk to her. They have her at a safe house.”

“Who?” I demand in a growl.

Shocker inhales deeply, then lets the breath out. “Vicious Reapers here. I’m standing outside their clubhouse, and they said their contact at the winery has asked them to protect her until she is ready to make a decision.”

A decision? What the fuck does that mean? I don’t ask him, though. Thankfully, he answers me before I can because it’s taking me too long to put together a sentence at this point. I also don’t understand what’s going on, and nothing is registering.

“They are under strict orders not to give me any information. I’m going to try to meet with her alone, without Mav and Goose. But I don’t know how long it’s going to take to get me in there. I’m just letting you know that she’s here and safe. That’s all I have.”

And that’s all I have to give to Bullet, too. Which isn’t going to be enough. Without a doubt, he’s going to have something to say about it. A lot of somethings. And it will all be my fault. Which, to be fair, it truly is.

I should have been the one to lock her ass away.

Instead, I was sitting around hoping that she would just spill her innermost secrets to me if I fucked her enough.

It wasn’t a terrible plan, and I loved every second of it, but it obviously didn’t get me what I needed, and now I’m going to have to admit everything to Bullet.

“I’m going to meet with Bullet this morning. I’ll tell him everything, and maybe he can call down to the club there and grease wheels that I couldn’t.”

Admitting that there is something I’m not able to do because I don’t have the power pisses me off. It shouldn’t. I’m a voting patched member of the club, and I don’t have the time to be any more than that, but in instances like this…

I’m fucked.

And I’m reminded of that, which is fucking annoying as shit.

I tell Shocker that I’ll talk to him after I meet with Bullet, then end the call. Before I can throw my legs over the side of the bed and attempt to stand as hungover as I am, I feel a palm against the center of my lower back.

Shit.

Pinching my eyes closed, I let out a heavy breath, then turn my head and look over my shoulder at the woman behind me. She’s giving me a lazy smile, and she seems a little too content and happy.

“You should have gone home last night,” I state before I turn around and force myself to stand.

Hazzard doesn’t give me any attitude back. Instead, she just hums. I can feel her eyes on me as I move through the bedroom and toward the bathroom naked. Stopping at the door, I turn to look at her again.

She’s lying in my bed, the covers only pulled up to her waist, her bare tits on display.

The sight should make me hard, but it doesn’t.

She’s not Posey. And as much as I wish I hadn’t done what I did last night, as much as I wanted it to be Posey, I know it was biology, and now I fucking regret the whole thing.

I should have turned Hazzard away when she appeared at my door. I shouldn’t have drunk as much as I did. And I should have taken my ass to bed. This isn’t the first time I’ve woken up with regrets, and I’m sure it won’t be the last, but it doesn’t make it right.

“I’ll see you later, babe.”

My words come out as gently as possible, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter how Hazzard takes them. She’s not the one I’m worried about, and I know that makes me a dick, but her purpose was for what we did last night and nothing more.

The moment I step into the shower, I let the hot water wash over my body. I feel better almost instantly. The hot water washes away my hangover, thank fuck. I have a feeling that this meeting with Bullet is going to give me a whole new fucking headache.

All of which I will have deserved.

POSEY

The man who dropped me off here left without even saying goodbye. Not that I care because I didn’t even know his name. I couldn’t even tell you what his voice sounded like because he didn’t say a single word to me. What he did was watch me. And as he watched me, I felt safe.

Maybe it was the gun. Maybe it’s the fact that he worked for Monty, and Monty for sure made me feel safe today. I knew there was no way he would do anything to piss off his boss. Without a doubt, he respected him too much, and therefore, nothing was going to happen to me.

And now I’m here. Standing in the living room of a strange house with a man I don’t know who is wearing a Vicious Reapers MC vest thingy. Except when I take it in, it has Rivara, the winery’s town name, on it.

I open my mouth to tell him my name, but I don’t get the chance.

He takes a step toward me, then another, stopping when he’s just a few feet away.

“Name’s Void. I’m your live-in guard until you know what you’re ready to do.

No rush. Don’t got an old lady or any kids.

This is like a mini-vacation, and I’m cool with it. ”

“I’m Posey,” I say.

He smirks. “Yeah, babe. Know exactly who the fuck you are.”

I don’t know what that means, but the way his eyes move up and down my body, I have a feeling he likes exactly what he sees and that he’s been looking forward to seeing it, too. I’m not sure how I feel about that.

No, that’s a lie. I know exactly how I feel about that. I am not going to be involved with another man. I’m done. I’m swearing them off, at least for now… and that’s what I tell myself.

“What happens now?” I ask.

He smirks then shakes his head. His lips twitch as if he’s going to say something, but then he presses them together, no doubt deciding against it.

Maybe it’s because my face is conveying the amount of stress and trauma I’m feeling right now, or maybe it’s more along the lines of he’s waiting until the right time.

I’m not sure, but I’m glad he chooses not to say whatever it is.

“The master bedroom is yours. I’m going to take the couch for now.”

“The couch?” I ask. “Why?”

He smirks as his gaze searches mine, almost laughingly. He’s really cute. Tall, wearing blue jeans that look like they were made for him, and he’s worn them to the point that they are molded to his body. Thick thighs, trim hips, wide shoulders, and arms the size of cannons.

In other words—hot.

“The only exterior doors are right here. The front, the back, and the garage. I can see them all.”

Well then. “Do you think that someone is going to try to come in here?” I ask, looking around. I can’t help but wonder what he’s anticipating because I was under the impression that we were all good.

Like, really good.

Pressing my lips together, I wait for his response, and he clears his throat. “I don’t, but it’s natural instinct. I’m in charge of your well-being. I’m going to ensure your safety.”

“Okay,” I breathe.

“Go and get settled. I don’t cook, so we can either do a grocery order or takeout.”

The thought of cooking tonight makes me want to burst into tears, and honestly, I’ve cried enough today to last me a whole lifetime.

“Takeout,” I state quickly.

He chuckles. “You like pizza?”

I almost moan as I answer him. “I love pizza.”

He winks, then jerks his chin toward the hall. “Get settled. I’ll put in a pizza order. Anything you don’t like? I got some beers in the fridge cooling down. “

“I don’t care for sausage or pineapples on my pizza.”

He tilts his head to the side, his eyes moving up and down my body again, then he clears his throat before he speaks. He asks me the weirdest freaking question, as far as it pertains to pizza, that I’ve ever heard.

“You like chicken and broccoli?”

I nod slowly. “Yesss….”

He grins before he jerks his chin. “I got you.”

And that is that. He turns and walks toward the kitchen, holding his cell phone to his ear.

I take that as a signal that we’re done discussing pizza for the moment, so I turn and tug my bag behind me as I walk down the hallway and slip into the master bedroom, closing and locking the door behind me.