Chapter Ten
Ivy stood near thecurb of her apartment building that morning, canvas bag slung over one shoulder, her fingers curled tight around the strap like it might anchor her in place.She was waiting for her ride.
On any other day, she would’ve rolled her eyes at the arrangement.
A Devil’s Crown patched member picking her up for work like she couldn’t be trusted to get there on her own might seem excessive, borderline insulting, even.Ivy prided herself on independence but yesterday had lodged something sharp and persistent beneath her ribs.
The feeling hadn’t gone away when she locked her apartment door.It hadn’t eased when she’d slept, or when she woke before her alarm with her heart already racing.That sensation of being watched clung to her, a thin film over everything.It was subtle, but impossible to ignore.
So she waited.She shifted her weight and scanned the street again, eyes tracking every passing car, every shadow between parked vehicles.The neighborhood was quiet, early commuters long gone, late sleepers still tucked away.Too quiet, maybe.
Her phone buzzed in her hand.No new messages.Roach should be here any minute.
The low rumble reached her before the bike came into view.A Harley’s engine, unmistakable.The tension in Ivy’s shoulders eased a fraction as the sound grew louder, echoing between buildings.She adjusted her bag and took a step closer to the curb, ready to flag him down.
The bike rounded the corner.It was black, the chrome flashing in the sun.The Devil’s Crown patch rode proudly on the back of the rider’s leather vest.
As it slowed, something snagged in her chest.The rider wasn’t Roach.
The bike rolled to a stop a few feet away, engine idling low and mean.Ivy didn’t move.She watched as the man swung his leg off with practiced ease and pulled off his helmet.
He was tall.Broad shouldered.His hair was dark, cropped short, his face angular in a way that felt deliberately sharp.When his eyes landed on her, a slow smile spread across his mouth.
It was too wide and pleased.
“Morning,” he said, voice smooth, casual, like they were old friends.
Every instinct Ivy had flared at once.
“Morning,” she replied cautiously, her tone polite but guarded.“I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”
The man chuckled, like she’d said something amusing.“Yeah, I get that a lot.”
The biker didn’t give her his name, instead he took a step closer.Ivy resisted the urge to step back, forcing herself to stay still, to project calm even as her pulse kicked up a notch.
“I’m waiting for Roach,” she added, glancing past him down the street.“He should be here any—”
“Havoc sent me,” the man interrupted easily.“Told me to pick you up.”
The words hit wrong.
Havoc?Confusion tangled with alarm.Havoc hadn’t spoken to her since yesterday morning.He hadn’t texted or called.Hell, the bastard didn’t said anything at all.
“He did?”Ivy asked slowly.“That’s ...strange.”
The biker’s smile didn’t falter.“He’s busy.You know how it is.”
No, she didn’t.Ivy dropped her gaze to the patch on his vest.Devil’s Crown MC, just like Roach’s.Her eyes traced the stitching along the bottom rocker, reading the name embroidered there.
Roach.Her breath caught.This wasn’t Roach.The name sat wrong on this man’s back, like a borrowed skin.What happened to the real Roach and was that a spot of blood on his shirt sleeve?Her heart began to pound.
“I’ll wait,” Ivy said, stepping back this time, no longer caring if she seemed rude.“Roach didn’t say anything about a change of plans.”
The biker’s eyes hardened just a fraction.“He’s tied up.I’m your ride.”
“I didn’t agree to that,” she said, more firmly now.“I’ll take my own car.”
