Page 24 of Ivy’s Poison

I closed her hand around it. “Give back… when I return.”

My weak legs wobbled, struggling to stand with my exhausted weight. I leaned on the poor woman I was dwarfing, my eyes never leaving Ivy who stared up at me from her knees. My large palm cupped her sweet face. Holding my necklace to her chest, Ivy nodded, nuzzling… then pushed me away.

As Beth yanked and dragged me out of the room, I watched Ivy and was so distracted I never grabbed a weapon to protect myself. She lay on the floor as if I’d attacked her, and closed her eyes. I had attacked her. The red marks on her neck would be convincing.

Out the door, Beth dragged me up wooden stairs. I had been in a basement.

I choked out, “Jade?”

“Sleeping in a locked room.” She peeked her head out another door, then, hand in hand, ran me down an empty hallway while asking, “Do you have an issue with hitting women?”

My lungs were still struggling to breathe. “I’m so,” I coughed, “sorry,” cough, “I hurt her.”

Beth was aiming for a door at the end of the hallway. “You didn’t know who she was. Drop it. But I do need you to punch me.”

We ran out the back door. Well, I stumbled in shock. “What? No.” I instantly squinted against the sun that felt like razors in my achy eyes while trying to gather my location. I was standing at the back of the property, surrounded by a border of trees in the distance—the best route for escape. The hot day had my skin sighing. I hadn’t realized how cold and wet I was ‘til the warmth hit me.

Beth shoved a piece of paper in my palm. “Her number.” She kept looking around. “No time for chivalry or I’m dead. Now, hit me.”

Shaking my head, I shoved the paper in my wet pocket. I needed my hands free to fight. In the distance, I could hear men yelling and bikes roaring off, sounding like they were at the front of the building. “What’s happening?”

“Triggers going off all over. Someone’s on the property.” She kept watching our surroundings. “Champ, we have no time. Smack me. If they think I helped you, I’m dead—” Seeing something behind me, she grabbed my arm and acted as if trying to prevent my getaway. “You sonofabitch! You strangled her!”

My eyes slid shut, realizing someone was coming and I had run out of time to change her mind. I couldn’t leave her defenseless, not after all she had done for me, for my child, for the one I wanted to hate but was unable to. Her only protection was the bikers believing she had never helped me. Fighting every urge that demanded I have some morals, I opened my eyes, raised my hand… and smacked someone I had become very fond of.

Stunned by the little bit of strength I dared to use against her, Beth fell to the ground, holding her cheek. Hearing, “Motherfucker!” from a biker in the distance was my cue to haul ass. Too close to death to remember about security cameras, I mouthed, “I’m sorry” to Beth then turned and ran toward the woods, about four hundred feet away, for cover. Having no weapon, I needed to take advantage of any opportunity I had. I needed to hide in the woods before being completely outnumbered. Getting out alive was the only way to return and free Jade and her mother.

“Here! He’s here! The fucker escaped!” yelled another biker.

Wet bandages rubbed against my fresh burns, and every sore muscle screamed in agony as my arms and legs pumped hard to move me across the field of green grass. The sun tried to energize me while my lungs fought to accept oxygen in their waterlogged state. Out in the open, I was easy to spot but I had no choice. Biker boots pounded the earth as men ran, trying to catch up to me. Given how intent the Prez was for getting information from me, they knew that he would not approve of them shooting me and accidentally killing me. He still needed answers. That’s why I was baffled when I heard a rifle discharge and heard the report of a bullet into the air. I ducked to the ground for cover until, in the corner of my eye, I saw a biker fall. My exhausted mind simply couldn’t fathom who shot the gun and why it hit one of their own. When I heard another gun discharge and witnessed another biker take the hit, I stared into the woods… and smiled.

Motherfuckers. Gawain and Kay.

On its own accord, my body leaped from the ground and charged toward my friends who had come to save my ass. Bikers, no longer chasing me, were now retrieving their own weapons and running, returning to the building in search of cover. Breaking the line of trees, I kept running, knowing my boys were close. Kay’s British accent shouted over the gunfire, “Keep heading east.”

Gawain, sounding focused, added, “Don’t stop. We’re giving you a head start.”

I never slowed. Not to see them or know their position. Their voices were enough. If my boys thought I, fucking Bors, needed a head start… I knew I looked like dying shit.

Every time I broke another tree line, I gauged the sun to make sure I was still on track. One open landing had the most glorious sight: an old army helicopter. As soon as the pilot saw me, that flying machine cranked to life. Again, I never slowed. I beelined for that baby; all along, the pilot was flipping switches and preparing for take-off. After diving in through the open sliding door, I rolled to my back and begged my lungs to stop feeling like they were taking an acid bath.

The pilot yelled over the engine warming up, “Solo?”

That’s the thing with professionals. As much as we had each other’s backs, there was still order in the chaos. Arthur’s pilot’s question was simple: Are you the only survivor? His elite training had him knowing we only take time to mourn the fallen after getting the hell out of danger.

“Negative,” I wheezed.

“Will I be taking fire?”

“Affirmative.”

Like a pro, his hands prepared for immediate takeoff, his eyes scanning from where I had just come.

I groaned, “Do you see them?”

“Negative… Wait… Make room, Bors.”

I rolled but stayed down. I simply lacked the energy to do anything else but get air into damaged lungs. Waterboarding is deadly. The way I was feeling, I knew it was a possibility I would have permanent damage.