SOLD: Jagged Souls MC

by Naomi West

  I’m pretty sure I just meant to tell the guy to keep his hands to himself; it’s rude to lord a tip over a waitress’s head just so you can be inappropriate. I didn’t like the way they spoke to her. Seeing them lay hands on her turned my vision red. Although the boys didn’t like it either, none of them seemed as ready to fight as I was.

  I glanced around the diner, standing over the prone body of one of the men. The whole place was trashed from the broken windows to the shattered tables and chairs. Five groaning, bruised men lay scattered around the floor, half lying in or around whatever object my boys had tossed them into.

  Something inside my right shoulder hurt, and I could feel blood slowly trickling down my cheek from a cut across my forehead. Other than that, I was unhurt. My boys looked alright, too, with the exception of Marty, who was limping exaggeratedly.

  We crunched over the broken glass and shattered wood, winding our way to the front of the diner. What was left of it, anyway.

  Ivy stood there, a serene angel in the center of the wreckage, her face displaying no emotion at all as she looked around. Her stained uniform and tousled hair didn’t diminish her beauty, nor did the rigid posture that she always held. Surveying the damage with empty, mocha-colored eyes, Ivy seemed to be frozen to her spot on the floor, unable to move.

  Her eyes continued to crawl along, taking in every inch of the damage until she got to me. Then her eyes got wider as she noticed the little cuts and bruises I’d gotten from the broken glass and the tussle.

  I took a deep breath as she surveyed me, her eyes dark with fear, hoping to say something to make it better. That look in her beautiful eyes filled me with an emotion I couldn’t name and I hated it. I hated her for being able to dredge up these feelings inside my chest. I hated that she looked so frightened.

  I’m not sure what I would have said because I was interrupted by a new adversary.

  “What in the hell have you done to my restaurant?” The voice was huge and deep, filling the whole room. The owner climbed out of his back office, his eyes burning with rage as he saw the damage to his precious business. The man was about six feet tall and thin as a rail, dressed in a suit that was too short in the legs and arms. He looked like someone had pulled him through a taffy machine to stretch him out.

  Before my boys or I could react, the man I presumed to be the owner pointed a too-thin finger at Ivy. “Nevermind, I don’t care. You are fired, and I’m going to sue the shit out of the rest of you. I’m calling the police!” The man continued to scream as he walked back to his office, presumably to find a phone.

  And that was my cue to leave.

  We grabbed everything we’d come in with and hightailed it out of there, heading for our bikes like the devil was at our heels. A rush of adrenaline and a surge of heightened awareness filled my blood, making every detail of the scene stand out. And the details that stand out the most to me are the distraught lines of Ivy’s beautiful face. Tears slipped down her cheeks, her fingers caught up in her curls. Staring at the destruction around her, Ivy looked like a small child lost in the woods.

  She was fired for this, I thought as I mounted my bike and tore out of the parking lot. It is my fault and I have to fix it.

  My boys and I were gone before the owner had even had a chance to start calling the police, and I knew my first loyalty was to them. But I still felt incredibly guilty for leaving Ivy alone and crying in that busted-up cafe. I sped up, glancing in my mirrors to make sure that all four of my boys were still in line behind me. We cruised down the highway and towards a hiding place where we could lay low. I hid for a couple hours to make sure things were quiet before I finally headed home.

  Considering the number of people in and out of that place and how dirty it was, they’ll never be able to separate out our fingerprints. So as long as the guy can’t finger us, we’ll be home free.

  I should have felt like crowing my victory to the winds, but I couldn’t shake the memory of tears slipping down Ivy’s pretty little cheeks. That vision haunted my every step until I pulled up to my motel.

  By the time I got back to my place, the door to Ivy’s place was closed and locked, and I didn’t hear any noise or see any light spilling from around her poorly-sealed door, but I was still pretty sure she was home. Where else would she have gone? I started to head into my own room but hesitated on the doorstep. I have to do something.

  Huffing into the cold, autumn air, I walked over to Ivy’s door. There was almost nothing to distinguish her door for anyone else’s; her door was at the very end of this hallway. Convenient if you wanted to share as few walls as possible with neighbors, but it must have been drafty as hell. I stopped, staring at the numbers on her door: 328. The “2” was loose, dangling down half in front of the lowest curve of the three.

  After a long second of hesitation, I took a deep breath and knocked. It was cold enough out here that I could see my breath, and I hoped she would answer the door quickly.

  There was no noise on the other side of the door and I growled under my breath. “Ivy,” I growled, my voice unhappy. “Answer the door. I just want to talk.”

  Again, nothing.

  “Ivy,” I warned, my voice a little louder.

  Silence.

  “I will knock down this door.” She had to be home; there was literally nowhere else for her to be. She went to work, to the laundromat maybe, but she had to be in there. I needed to see her face. I needed it like I needed to breathe.

  A mumbling of curses came from the other side of the door. The chain slid out of the lock with a few clicks and a scraping of metal on metal. The bolt slid out of its home in the doorframe, and the handle lock was disengaged with a click. After a breathless, silent second, the door cracked up, displaying the hopeless face of a very broken looking woman. Ivy’s chocolate eyes were red-rimmed, her cheeks and face swollen. Her eyes were too wide and trained on my feet. She didn’t even look up when I stepped back a little to give her space.

  “I have nothing left, Creed,” she whispered, her voice barely carrying across the short distance between us. Her voice quivered as she grasped the door with white-knuckled fingers. “I have nothing left for you to ruin. So please leave me in peace.”

  “You can find another job,” I answered, my voice cracking a little. She looked devastated and lost, and I that horrible guilty feeling grew in my chest.

  She shook her head. “I applied for everything in the immediate walking distance and the bus routes that don’t take a million years. Literally everything. Whether I was qualified for it or not. The restaurant was the only one to respond.” Fresh tears slipped down her face as she cradled the door like it was the only solid thing in the world. She still wouldn’t look me in the face. “I’ve looked and called and applied. I have nothing left. I’m just so tired.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “You won’t give up.”

  Fire filled her eyes as her gaze snapped up to me. “What do you know about it?”

  “More than you, apparently. You’ll find something else.” I was so firm because I believed it; Ivy didn’t look like the type to quit. “In the meantime, Josh needs someone to keep track of him. He needs someone he’ll listen to, to make sure he goes to school. Someone who gets him.”

  Ivy wrinkled her pert little nose at me, sending shivers down my spine that had nothing to do with cold. “He has ADHD. He needs specialized classes where they won’t force him to hold still for eight hours a day.” She suddenly looked down at my boots, like she remembered who she was talking to. “I believe,” Ivy finished lamely.

  “See, you know him already. He trusts you and likes you, for whatever reason. I’ll pay you better than you were making at that dump heap. Did those assholes always treat you so bad?”

  She shrugged noncommittally, her oversized sweater slipping off of one shoulder, displaying a long line of beautiful, freckled flesh. My eyes locked onto the long, lean curve of her shoulder, and I wondered what her skin would taste like if I--

&nbs
p; Clearing my throat, I glanced back at her face. “I have the money; the only reason my boy and I are here is to lay low.”

  Ivy said nothing, her eyes locked with the carpet.

  “It would be good for us both.”

  But as my eyes trailed over the long line of her body that I could see through the open door, I began to wonder if it really was good for either of us.

  Chapter Nine

  Ivy

  Don’t look him in the eye. Don’t move quickly or he’ll strike. Don’t even breathe loudly.

  I felt like I was dealing with a wild animal instead of a person. I didn’t want him to think I was challenging his authority in any way. I saw what he and his friends did to the diner; I didn’t want to know what he and his friends could do to my body.

  Shivering, I kept my eyes locked on the carpet at Creed began to list off all of the reasons he’d trust me over anyone to take care of his kid. Josh was a nice kid, with great intelligence, and a strong sense of will and independence. If I was being completely honest with myself, I liked the kid in spite of his deficiencies. He needed discipline and lots of it. But I wasn’t quite sure I was the right one to give it to him. I’d never been around a kid for long, except him. He was going to be more trouble than he was worth.

  Except you have no other possible source of income right now. You have no prospects, no leads. Nothing. Your only job was just shattered by this man standing in front of you.

  And what a frightening man he was. Imposing and filled with the kind of lethal self-confidence that soaked through my panties and left me quivering in a mix of fear and desire. He was beautiful, strong, and he could help me. A bad combination of things when I was already attracted to him.

  Shit. I can’t say yes, but I can’t afford to say no. It was the impossible choice. The unsolvable riddle. Did I throw my lot in with a dangerous criminal who I wanted with every fiber of my being and earn the money I needed to eat, or did I turn him down and starve, get kicked out of the only shelter that would take me, and probably end up in homeless housing before the end of the month?

  There was no other possible solution. I had to take it. “I’ll take it and make it as short term as possible. I’ll find something else. I have to. If he asked me right now, I’d be hard pressed not to let him take me. This is not a good idea,” I thought.

  Sighing, I glanced up for just a second into that hard face. He was watching me like a panther would watch prey. It made me uncomfortable even as it sent pleasant little shivers down to my toes. Crap.

  “Alright then, Creed.”

  Stepping out of my room, I closed my door behind myself. I walked over to Creed’s room, waiting patiently for him to open the door for me.

  With curiosity in those pretty, steel eyes, Creed opened the door, then gestured exaggeratedly for me to go in first. There was a strange smile on his lips, and I had to look away before I was drawn in like a moth to the flame.

  Josh was sitting in front of the TV, his little sneakers banging against the floor in time to some imaginary music. I stepped forward with a confidence I didn’t feel and flicked off the TV.

  “Hey!” Josh whined, his eyes snapping to my face. “I was watching that.”

  “I’m sorry, but this is important. I need to talk to you, and I need you to listen.”

  Josh wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve then got to his feet. “Alright, what do you gotta say?”

  “Your father wants me to be your new babysitter. How do you feel about that?”

  My heart twisted a little in my chest as those chocolate eyes of his lit up like a light bulb. “That sounds okay,” he whispered, his feet tapping the carpet with impatience. “Will you teach me more about cooking?”

  “I can try,” I answer, a lancing pain in my chest growing as Josh stared down at his toes. I couldn’t imagine what he was thinking, but whatever it melted my heart. “The only thing I ask in return is that you behave. If you do that, we will get along great. I’ll make you food and teach you what I can.”

  Josh looked up at me, his little eyes narrowing. “Okay.”

  I turned to Creed. “What’s my pay?”

  He was staring at me again with that strange emotion in his gray eyes. I didn’t know what it meant, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. He named a price and I immediately shot back with a counter offer. The crooked smile on his face spread a little as he nodded.

  “I’ll also need money for groceries. I’ll make sure he gets regular meals, homemade.”

  Creed nodded again, so I squared my shoulders and kept going. “I want Tuesday evenings off and I won’t deal with dirty laundry.” My whole body shook as I met his eyes. Little pulses of fear shuddered through my veins as he studied me. I pushed it too hard; he’s going to freak out any second. Panic rose like bile in my throat, choking my air away.

  But much to my surprise, he merely nodded again, that crooked grin spreading wide enough to show his teeth. “As you wish,” he answered with a mocking laugh as he turned and walked out of the door, slamming it behind himself.

  My heart thundered in my chest as I fought to breathe. Why did I do that? Why did I push him?

  I didn’t have an answer. But something deep in me stirred; perhaps I had just been playing the doormat this whole time. Maybe it was all an act.

  Maybe I didn’t want to be that Ivy anymore.

  “Can I turn the TV back on, Ivy?” a little voice said from behind me. I whirled to find Josh still standing there, waiting for me to do something.

  “Sure, but don’t turn the volume up too loud. I’m going to go see what kind of food I have next door to cook. Are you hungry?”

  He nodded so vigorously, he looked like a child-sized bobble head doll.

  “What are your thoughts on spaghetti?”

  Josh scrunched up his nose. “Is that some sort of vegetable?”

  Chuckling, I walked over to the door. “No, it’s not. It’s a pasta.”

  His little face went serious and his feet still as he considered my words. “Well, I will try it.”

  “That’s good enough for me.” Heading back to my place, I picked up everything I would need, the spaghetti noodles, the cans of crushed tomatoes, and the mostly empty bottle of dried herbs. I frowned at them; when they were gone, I wouldn’t have the money to replace them unless I really got creative with coupons or something.

  Maybe I’ll find something part-time I can do when I’m not with the kid. It wasn’t too much to hope for, hopefully. If I could work two jobs, pull in money twice as fast-- Well, I can worry about that when I get to it. For now, let’s get this pasta going.

  I searched both Josh’s little kitchenette and mine, looking for basic ingredients to make the perfect sauce. There was a little fifty-cent can of crushed tomatoes in my kitchen that would make up most of the sauce along with some dried basil, garlic powder, and parsley. In Creed’s kitchen, I found nothing but beer and a salt shaker that was still half full.

  Good enough for a sauce. I would have given anything for some ground sausage or beef to add to the sauce, maybe an onion, olive oil, and a handful of fresh basil leaves, but I would do the best I could with what I had.

  I brought everything over to Josh’s, stepping around him carefully as he watched the TV. Then I got to work. As soon as the scents of the sauce started wafting around the little motel room, it drew Josh in, his little nose lifted into the air like a dog.

  “I don’t know what this pagsgettin is, but it smells pretty good,” he said, jumping up onto a barstool and looking down at my simmering pot of sauce.

  “Spaghetti, Josh, and please do not stand on the chair. If you fell over, you would get a face full of boiling water.” I smiled at him to soften the disciplining, hoping he would take better to it if I gave some reasons why he should be more careful. “Then you would ruin our dinner.”

  Josh screech-laughed, his voice high-pitched and echoing around the tiny space. I felt like my damned ears were bleeding. “I wouldn’t want to ruin the
dinner!” He hopped down from his perch and did a lap around the room, jumping over the bed and running across the carpet from one end to the other.

  It’s amazing that the downstairs neighbors don’t bang on the ceiling every five minutes with this kid up here. Though with how he reacted when he heard me knocking on the wall, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve just given up and let him do whatever he wants.

  Sighing, I kept at it, stirring and answering questions as best as I could. Soon, dinner was served, and the little guy slurped it up like it was his first meal in days. He ate two plates of it before returning to the TV. He even thanked me for the food as he wiped his red-stained mouth with the back of his sleeve.

  I sat down on the bed next to him and we flipped through the channels for a couple of hours before the kid started yawning. I made him take his shoes off and crawl under the covers before he passed out.