by KL Donn
My mom died in a car accident when I was almost two, so I had always been a permanent fixture at the club. Being raised by a single father who was also the president of an MC may not seem like the ideal situation to some. But to me, it was enough.
I was six when Mack Bourne was initiated into the club. Apparently he and my dad grew up together. They lost touch for a while when Mack’s parents divorced and he was placed with his grandmother in a different state, but he was home now to continue his roots where they originally started. I was also happy to find he had a little boy in tow with him.
It would be years before I saw Theo as anything more than a friend. I was terrified my dad was going to kill him when he found out. We thought we were doing a good job of keeping it hidden. But I’ll never forget sitting in my dad’s office, Theo by my side, getting a talk about the birds and the bees. Even now, years later—it still ranks just under finding a clubwhore riding your pop.
After I graduated high school, I took on a more proactive role within the club. Being raised here, I knew all the ins and outs. There were no secrets from me, and by the time I was twenty one, I was running the books and managing the cutsluts. Most of them were my age or a little older, but even still, I acted as a den mother of sorts. Making sure they all had current birth control prescriptions and scheduling monthly appointments at the clinic to get them tested.
It wasn’t the most glamorous of jobs, but I had a purpose and that was enough for me. Or at least it was until the night my best friend from high school, Katie, called me from the emergency room. Her fiancé, who we had also gone to high school with, had beaten her within an inch of her life. Even though we both stayed home after high school, we’d become distant. She was starting her life with Brock, and I was finding my place within the MC. Getting to the hospital that night to find that my best friend had spent the past three years being mentally and physically abused by the man she loved shredded me.
What the fuck had I been doing that I was too busy to check on her? That night was a reality check for me. It also triggered a change that I didn’t completely understand at the time, but would come to embrace.
When I asked Katie why she hadn’t reached out for help before, I realized just how dire her situation was. Like Theo, Brock had been an all American jock in not just one, but two sports. Baseball or Football were supposed to be his ticket out of this town. But a blown knee in the first game of his freshman football season at state changed everything.
According to Katie, Brock ignored every instruction from his doctors and trainers. He was hell bent on getting back on the field as soon as possible and started training before it was approved. In the end, he did irreparable damage that cut his bright future short. With not much to fall back on, Brock dropped out of state and got a job at the paper mill where his dad worked.
It didn’t take long for the depression to set in. By the time Katie realized what was happening, it was too late. Brock wasn’t the boy she’d fallen in love with anymore. But despite his shortcomings, she was dedicated to him and their relationship. She was convinced she could help him get better. Problem was, Brock didn’t want to get better. The escape he got from drowning himself in a bottle was better than any life sober with Katie. By the end of it all, Katie’s spirit was as broken as Brock’s body.
I sat by her side for hours listening to her story. My soul bled for my best friend and a fire raged inside as the biker in my blood started to boil. Even as I ached to dole out my own dose of revenge, I was satisfied knowing that he would be held accountable when Katie pressed charges.
I’ve often wondered where I would be now had things happened differently from that moment on. I like to think I’d still somehow end up where I am now, doing what I am now, but I don’t know. The truth is, if Katie had gone through with pressing charges, I’d probably still be in the same place I was then. Refilling prescriptions and doing chlamydia checks.
I’ll never know the answer to those ‘what if’s’ because that’s not how it played out. Not at all. I’ll never forget the way I sat slack jawed as Katie told the officers that she had fallen down the stairs in their home. Spun them a tale of steep stairs and a full laundry basket. Honestly, I think deep down, Katie actually believed that story. But she was the only one. Because the last time I checked, laundry baskets didn’t have fingers and they sure as fuck didn’t leave finger shaped bruises on your throat.
They asked her three times if she was sure of her story. Once, the male cop even left the room hoping that Katie would open up more to his female partner. It didn’t happen. With varying degrees of pity and anger, the cops left, leaving me to stare at my best friend. The years apart had changed her to someone I hardly recognized. And I’m not just talking about the bruises covering almost every inch of her body.
When she was discharged, I loaded her into my car prepared to take her back to the clubhouse. She needed someplace safe that she could recover from this entire ordeal. Somewhere that she could take the time she needed to get her head on straight again. Apparently Katie and I didn’t have the same idea, because color me mother fucking surprised when she asked me to drop her off at the police station. My immediate thought was that she changed her mind. Or finally found her mind, one of the two—I didn’t care either way. She had finally seen the light and was going to press charges against that hateful fucker.
I’m sure you already know where this is going, don’t you? I’d bet my last dollar I don’t even need to tell you the rest of this story because you already know how it ends. At least part of it. You know that Katie wasn’t going to that station to change her statement. You know that she was going to post bail for that fucker. You know that doing that would have been the biggest mistake of her life. Well, don’t worry—I knew that too.
“Ivy… IVY.”
Giving my head a small shake I focus back on my dad. “Sorry, Pop. Did you say something?”
My dad stares back at me like I’ve lost my damn mind. “Think it’s time for you to go home, baby girl.”
Just the thought of my bed has me yawning and struggling against an invisible pull to pillowy heaven. “I am once I leave here,” I say, exhaustion seeping deep into my bones.
My dad watches me closely, his eyes taking in every detail. “I take it from that defeated look on your face that you didn’t get your butterfly out tonight.”
Like I said, my dad never misses a thing. This also brings me to the rest of my story about Katie.
When I realized that Katie was going to the police station with the intent to post Brock’s bail, I made a split second decision. I admit now that I can see how it could have majorly backfired, but at the time my only concern was getting Katie safe. That meant getting her the hell away from Brock, and Brock behind bars or six feet under.
Ignoring her request, I brought Katie back to the clubhouse. When she asked me what I was doing, I had to think fast. Somehow I knew that ‘I’m kidnapping you until you can see reason’ wouldn’t go over well. So I improvised the fuck out of the situation. Told her I figured she’d like to shower and get cleaned up before going to get Brock. Thankfully she took the bait and while she was in the shower, I met with my dad, Blade, and Ranger and set my plain in motion. Which is how Katie, now known as Meadow Wilson, became my first butterfly.
Looking back to my dad I shake my head as anger settles in my belly. “No, I didn’t get her tonight.”
Dad’s face is grim. He knows as well as I do how dire it was to get Rachel Granger out tonight. Russell is getting worse by the day, and time is running out for his wife.
“Gotta get her out soon, Ivy,” my dad says, his thoughts mirroring my own.
I shove up from the chair and pace across the room.
“Fuck, don’t you think I know that?” I don’t mean to take my anger out on him and I know if I were anyone else, I’d be meeting my maker right about now. But the pressure is getting to me. And in my line of work, failure comes at a steep price. I glance at my dad, my apology in my
eyes; he nods in understanding.
“Anything I can do to help?”
God, if I weren’t so fucking defeated I’d smile. I love my dad. Since the day I came into his office and told him that I wanted to save women in domestic abuse situations, he’s been behind me 112%. Katie was my guinea pig. She was also my hardest metamorphosis.
Much like the drastic changes that a caterpillar goes through on its journey to become a butterfly, my girls also go through a series of changes. Most of them are similar to Katie. They’ve been broken down and conditioned to believe that their men actually love them. That they deserve what’s happening to them. It’s a heartbreaking reality that I’ll never truly understand, but that’s okay. It’s not my job to understand all the ins and outs of why they feel the way they do. My job is to take their broken pieces and put them back together. And as with any broken thing, they’re never the same as they were before. But that’s okay too, because when I set them free, they’re just that. Free.
Focusing back on my dad, I think about his question. “I’m not sure. Everything is going to have to be reassessed and adjusted for a new exit strategy. I’m just hoping that she doesn’t change her mind while we get a new plan in place.”
“You think she’ll flip?” He leans back in his chair.
“Honestly I have no idea. She called me three days in a row and hung up every time I answered before she worked up the nerve to even speak to me.”
Dad’s mouth pulls down. “Fuck, that bad?”
“She uh, she’s actually kinda new territory for me,” I admit.
“Oh? How so?”
“Because she’s pregnant.”
A heavy silence weighs in the air following my admission. The urgency to get Rachel out immediately is exemplified times a thousand. I’m one hundred percent invested in every single rescue I orchestrate. But admittedly, this one is just a little more than the others. Because I’m not just saving one life, I’m saving two.
“I’m sure I don’t have to explain to you how that complicates things.”
He’s damn right about that. When my girls finally leave me to be placed in their new location, they’re given a completely fresh start. Birth certificates, driver’s license, social security cards—they’re all brand new and depict a life that has never been touched by domestic violence.
Their new location is complete with living arrangements and stable employment waiting for them. They’re given instructions on how to integrate slowly into their new world. And thanks to the other chapters of the Iron Reapers that are spread through the southern United States, they’re never alone and always have someone to look out for them should they need it.
They’re also told to stay under the radar for at least a year. This means no getting married, no getting arrested, no voting, no applying to go back to school and most definitely, not having babies. As much as I hate to give them such strict rules in their new, ‘free’ life, I have to guarantee their safety first and foremost. That means that even though I have full confidence in my resources for obtaining their new identities, I take every precaution to ensure they don’t flag any government systems.
As much as I would love this to be a legit Better Business Bureau reporting gig, it’s not. I don’t have a Facebook page or a website. Nowhere that has my listed hours or fees—there aren’t any. What you will find around our town are business cards. Matte black finished front, the back is the same save for a metallic green twine of Ivy and a phone number. They’re not where you would always expect them, either. Instead, you’ll find them in the womens bathroom at all the town churches. Underneath the lip of the register at the grocery store and pharmacy, ready at a moments notice when the cashier feels the tingle up her spine that you might be one that needs saving. Hidden under the last page of paperwork when you check out of your doctor’s office, they go seemingly unnoticed to the common eye. But to those that truly need them—despite being black, they burn bright—a beacon of hope in their otherwise dark world.
“I know the potential risk, but it doesn’t change anything.” I push off the wall with my boot and walk toward the door. But before I walk through it, I remember why tonight didn’t go as planned, and the reason for the monumental fuckup. I turn back to my dad. “Did you know?” I ask, watching his face for any sign that he may know what I’m talking about.
I may be the VP of the club, and perfectly capable of taking care of myself, but I’m never alone when I leave these walls, and I never know what my bodyguards have reported to him. VP or not, I’m still a woman but more than that, I’m the President’s daughter and will be protected as such, no matter my own rank within the club.
“That she was pregnant?” My father’s salt and pepper eyebrows pull together in complete confusion and I can’t help but laugh.
“No Pop, not—” I sigh and drop my head, pinching the bridge of my nose with my fingers. “Did you know about Theo?” I force out, bracing myself for his answer but a stunned silence follows.
“Theo? Theo Bourne?”
I nod. “That would be the one.”
“Did I know what?”
I search his face for any hint of dishonesty but find none. “He was at the Blue Iguana tonight and he was the reason my extraction went to shit.”
Pops lets out a low whistle and leans back in his chair. “You sure it was him?”
I bark out a laugh. “Damn near impossible to forget the boy who blew your heart to smithereens, Dad.”
“I take it it was not a joyous reunion,” he mumbles.
There are many words I would use to describe seeing Theo tonight and they’re about a thousand miles from the word ‘joyous’.
“He’s the President of an MC,” I state, my voice flat.
My dad jerks slightly at the news. Clearly he had no idea either. “He see your patch?”
The look on Theo’s face flashes in my mind and I can’t contain my smirk. “Oh, yeah. He saw my patch.”
My dad shakes his head, a chuckle falling from his lips. “Hope you know what you’re doing, baby girl.”
Oh, I know exactly what I’m doing. I’m going to catch me a Viper.
3
IVY
Setting up a meeting time with Rachel was damn near impossible. For the past week every attempt at a meetup was squashed when Russell showed up unannounced. If it wasn’t for the unadulterated fear on Rachel’s face, I would have wondered if she was the one feeding him the information. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d had an attempted setup. Some of the women I’ve saved have belonged to men so possessive that they refused to let go even after their women were gone. Those are the ones that cause issues for me, though it hasn’t happened often, it has happened. And because of such, I have to take every precaution when taking on a new rescue.
But something bigger was going on here and it had my spidey scenes going fucking haywire. This was bigger than me. I could feel it.
“Are you sure he won’t find us?”
My ears strain to hear Rachel’s hushed whisper through the stall door. Yes, we’re in a filthy, public women’s bathroom. Yes, it’s unhygienic as hell. Do I give a fuck? No.
“I’m sure, Holly.” Using her new name is risky, but I also know the promise of a new life soothes her more than any other words I can give her. So, if I have to take the risk, so be it. I can’t have her backing out now. I need to keep reminding her that better days are coming. Soon.
“Everything from here on out is going to happen fast and quiet,” I continue as I readjust on the closed toilet seat that I’ve covered with ten thousand layers of toilet paper. Lid or not, these jeans are going in the trash as soon as I get home.
“Why, what’s happening? Why does he keep finding us?” Rachel’s voice rises with panic—I need her to calm down. Telling her the truth, that I think I have a fucking rat in my club, will only serve to do the opposite, so I lie.
Gentling my voice I tell her what she needs to hear. “Everything is fine. Hiccups happen in almost every ev
acuation and we’re prepared for them. I just don’t want Russell doing anything rash before we have the chance to get you out. Okay?”
Her breaths are shaky and I can tell she’s doing her best to hold it together. “Okay.”
“Until we get you out, I don’t want you talking to anyone but me. If any of my guys try to talk to you, I want you to tell them that you haven’t heard anything from me.”
“Ivy…” I hate the fear in her voice and I hate even more that I’m part of the reason it’s there, but I can’t disregard this feeling in my gut that something is going on around me that I don’t know about, so I have to take every precaution.
“Rach—It’s going to be okay. Today is Wednesday. Does Russell have anything planned in the next few days?”
“Um, he’s going fishing Sunday morning with a guy from work.”
I nod even though she can’t see me. “Okay, that’s good. What time do they usually leave?” Please let it still be dark, please let it still be dark.
“Early, around six or so.”
Bingo. “That’s perfect. You still have your bag together like we talked about?” All my girls are allowed one small bag that they can carry in their arms. Since not everything can be bought, this allows them to bring anything irreplaceable from their past life to their new one. Memories aren’t solely in our hearts and minds. Sometimes they’re tethered to an object, and I would never ask my girls to give that up.
“Yeah, and it’s hidden really well too, so I don’t have to worry about him finding it.”
“Alright, I’m going to head out first. Once I see the coast is clear I’ll text you. There will be a shopping cart waiting outside the door, I want you to come out and do some light shopping, enough to make the time believable, and so you have a receipt to show Russell.”
After saying goodbye, I do a walk through of the store, keeping my eyes peeled for Russell or any of his known associates. Once I check the parking lot, I text Rachel and wait on my bike in the parking lot across the street, keeping an eye out until she leaves. As soon as her car leaves the lot thirty minutes later, I start my bike, pull on my helmet, and start in the opposite direction. I’ve got some calls to make.