Page 4 of Ivy’s Poison

After being hard at work on my assignment and studying all the changes in the gang since I killed their VP, I had once again drunk my way through all the whiskey in my house. So, in my restored 1964 El Camino, I drove to a bar a couple of towns outside my own. I didn’t like company, and I especially didn’t like them following me home. That’s why this dive-bar had been a favorite of mine. Everyone kept to themselves. It had dark corners where I could take cover and drink in peace. I even got a blowjob once without anyone seeing. The waitress had a thing for me. I had a thing for being sucked off. That’s why when Ivy had cooed about what she would’ve done with her lips—I gotta stop thinking about it before I wreck my car.

Entering the comfortingly dirty establishment, I nodded to the bartender—who also acted as security and cook—and headed to my small round table in the dark corner. As I sat in the wood chair, a text came in on my cell. I had to chuckle when I saw it was from Gawain, AKA Slut, because I knew I was about to get a treat. He, Kay, and I had an ongoing competition to see who could find the best rack of tits. Gawain and Kay were fellow assassins, friends who always had my back.

Before I could check out the Tit Pic and give my rating, Hoover, my waitress, waltzed up with a tray. Most women stayed far away from me. I had been told that my presence was a tad overpowering, but that never stopped Hoover. She loved my dominant ways.

On the delivering saucer sat my whiskey on the rocks. “Hey, stranger.” She set the glass in front of me. “Need a burger tonight?”

“Nah, but I will need another drink or two.”

Her tongue seductively licked her teeth. “Anything else?”

The tired looking blonde had asked me my name once. I told her it was never happening. She understood what I meant. I didn’t do girlfriends or lovers. I didn’t cuddle or snuggle. That was for pussies. I fucked, then left. That was it.

Her blue eyes had screamed ‘I need a daddy for my kids at home’.

No can do.

No want to do.

So, that night, I told her, “I could handle a little action for relief, but that’s it, babe.” It was always good for a refresher course of the rules.

She exhaled. “Think a girl will ever tie you down?”

Knowing I presently had knives strapped to me, and that I could get out of any bind, I winked. “For a little action, maybe so.”

That won me a laugh and a sexy strut to ogle as she headed back to the bar for my next round. Motorcycles pulling up outside diverted my attention to the door. We had a local chapter, but this group of four bikers wasn’t theirs. The hair on the back on my neck stood up when the strangers strolled in as if they owned the joint, laughing loudly, not caring that every other patron was on the quiet side—the way we liked it.

Just my luck. It’s biker-fucking-rump-a-roo time. There goes my blow job.

I stood, about to throw cash on the table, preparing to buy a bottle on the way home, when I suddenly noticed the symbol on the back of one of the cuts. Perplexed, I ran all my recent intel through my head because one patch said ‘President’. This man was supposed to be headed for Arizona. I recognized the short dark hair and scar along his left cheek. The man appeared to be in a constant state of pissed off. What the hell is he doing here?

Assassinating him tonight was very doable. Only three bikers and a chick were with him, but I was at a regular hangout. Not wise to murder so close to home. I was contemplating keeping an eye on them and following them to their next location when the bar lighting hit the hair of the woman he was with at just the perfect moment to show me the color I would never forget. Red with hues of purple and pink.

Mother. Fucker.

Just like that, my knees gave, and I was back in my chair, hidden away in my corner.

After all this time, there she was. Do I want to fuck her? Or kill her! I hadn’t made up my mind. What were the odds Ivy was to roll into town with a bunch of criminals? The fucking devil. Shit only got more complicated when I overheard her call the president “dad”. No. His daughter’s name is Ivana. Ah shit. Then I remembered what she had said that night in the hotel room. “You don’t know who I am…”

Talk about throwing a wrench into a plan…

Bors

From under her long red hair, she laughed, appearing happy. Well, if that didn’t sting like hell. I chuckled to myself. “What? Did you expect her to be pining over your sorry ass? You weren’t the best sex she’d ever had. You passed out on her, ya big pussy.”

Black leather pants hugged those hips that owned me three years earlier, and a tiny brown tank top showed off the nipples that made me fidget. I pretended to not be relieved that she wasn’t wearing a cut—a vest with her man’s name. No man was staking claim to her.

I wanted to.

Ah shit. This was the wrong frame of mind to do my job well. Arthur had made a mistake, having no idea this woman had my sensory board on the fritz. I gotta get out of here. So, I stood and threw a hundred-dollar bill on the table before leaving.

Almost to the rear entrance leading out to the alley, I heard, “Leaving so soon?”

I didn’t bother to peer over my shoulder at the waitress. “Left money on the table.”

Her voice suddenly changed. “Wait!”

Fuck that. I stomped into the barely lit alley that didn’t scare me because I was what folks should fear in the night. And, with how pent up I was feeling at the moment, it would’ve been deadly to fuck with me. Hence, when someone grabbed my arm, natural instinct and training had me spinning around and slamming them into the outside of a building. Even in the darkness, I could see red hair flying in the air right before I heard a female grunt.