Page 15 of Ivy’s Poison

She spoke over all the pounding fists on the hood, roof, and trunk. Her voice shook. “They know you killed their VP.”

Fucking smart bitch. “You don’t know shit about me.”

Just like a deep-water diver preparing his lungs for a long swim to the bottom of an ocean, I pumped shallow breaths. This revelation had me concerned about my survival. It wasn’t the recently fallen that had the crowd so irate.

I stared at the upset toddler burrowed in Ivy’s arms. “Don’t let her see this.”

Ivy swallowed then nervously placed a blanket over the precious head laying on her chest. “I was so mad when I figured out you killed him.”

“Lucky me.”

“I still am.”

I smirked as I observed the mob surrounding us. “Well, if I live through this, you can have a turn at me.”

“You will live. It was part of the deal. I get to torture you.”

“You say the sweetest things.”

Peering out the window, there were so many pissed faces just waiting to get their hands on me. I didn’t believe, for one second, they were going to honor their president’s word and deliver me alive to Ivy. There was a child in the car, yet they acted like untamed animals. My line of work taught me limitless discipline. These men seemed to lack self-control altogether.

Self-control…

Thinking of all Sister Mary taught me and how where she ended up sending me as I got older gave me purpose, I leaned forward. “Ivy, take my rosary.”

The car parked and the driver got out.

With one hand, she pulled the necklace over my head in a panic. “Religion is important to you?”

My door was opened from the outside, letting all the hollers into a space my daughter was occupying. As I was being roughly yanked out, I quickly asked, “What’s her name?”

Clutching the necklace and our child, Ivy rushed to exit the car. She was trying to answer me, but I couldn’t hear over the cheers as the president approached. Ivy took one glance at him and paled. She wasn’t sassy like she had been in the alley. She wasn’t coy and confident like she had been in the hotel room.

Wham! The president was to get the first hit. He no longer appeared nervous like before. I assumed he was more assured by numbers rather than facing me alone. I glared at him, pissed he lacked the balls to fight fair.

Taken farther from the car so I could be surrounded, I ferociously roared, “Get her out of here.” Anger, for so many reasons, was raging through my veins. This pack of hyenas had no self-pride.

Ivy had already been backpedaling. After I gave the order, she merely spun on her little pink Doc Martens and ran across the parking lot as if this was common practice for her. That was my first inkling Ivy wasn’t the badass she tried to portray, and it made me think of the hotel’s parking lot, her standing there appearing so lost while in search of a John. Her statement of missing the VP’s ‘protection’ echoed in my head.

Staring over the tops of the heads belonging to the men yelling at me, I not only regretted a kill but now doubted one for the very first time. Had Arthur made a mistake? Watching Ivy slip through a side door, my stomach sank at the thought of all she was running from.

Wham! The president’s fist met with my chin, bringing me back to my reality. Man, that hurt like a motherfucker. “Don’t be lookin’ at my kid or granddaughter like that.”

But you just sold her to me yesterday! Realizing he had no idea who I was to his granddaughter, I peered down at him and snarled. I didn’t care about the insanity shining from his dark eyes. I had so much I wanted to say, but I needed to live. Running my trap wasn’t wise at the present moment, not if I ever wanted to rescue my kid.

The president’s scar stretched as he smiled, backing away. “He’s all yours, boys.”

Cheers erupted as the crowd closed in. Their hunger was thick in the air. I suddenly understood what it was like to be hunted by a pack of lions. Since there was absolutely nowhere to run, I immediately dipped my chin to my chest and tightened the muscles around my ribcage. These pussies weren’t beneath ganging up on a man that had his hands tied behind his back. That was clear as the brutal attack began. From every which direction, fists full of rage and alcohol landed with force all over me. My shoulders, ribs, arms, hips, back, head, face, and thighs took strike after strike. For a while, I handled it, standing strong, but holding muscles tight for protection is tiring.

Being beat to a bloody pulp is also tiring.

There was no time for deep breaths to recharge my muscles with fresh oxygen. No time to prepare for more of the onslaught because it was never-ending. The hits were starting to steal my breath completely. Grunting through the sucker punches to my kidneys, I felt like an MMA fighter who was reliving every match of a very long career, all at once, with no hands to defend himself. I don’t know how much time had passed before my legs started to wobble and my mind started to fade, but I remember becoming very angry at the ruthless and cowardly attack. I remember starting to… growl.

Bors

A cool, wet washcloth wiping blood from my chest was the first thing I remembered after the parking lot party in my honor. Opening my eyes as much as they would open, I was shocked to see Ivy shaking as she needled up a gash on my left side right above my ribs. She was not the one cleaning me. That woman gasped when I stared up to her from the table I was lying on. She covered her mouth but wasn’t able to hide her shock. “My baby’s face.”

Ivy closed her eyes in some sort of pain while nodding her head. “I told you.”