“I know where this is going,” Dace said.
“Look, we need to get our hands on something. We need a break,” Liam insisted. “If there’s drug muling or weapons changing hands in Portland, they’ll know. It’s their turf.”
“Turf?” Dace laughed. “Is this 1950?”
“Jesus, why do you always have to be such a prick? You know what I mean and how this works. Maybe they’re running protection or something.”
Wylie let out a long, slow whistle. “For the cartel? That’s a little too close to home…our home. That’s our payroll you’re talking about.”
“Maybe, maybe not. It wouldn’t be the first time,” Liam said. “We’ve used the club to run ops on the cartel before. Sometimes, they get the hit before we do. They don’t run everything through us, so it’s worth a shot.”
Wylie nodded in agreement, knowing full well where this inquisition was going. “And what if it’s the Russians…or Irish? Hell, maybe it’s just some lowlife homegrown street trash.”
“Out in the open like that, though? Even if they’re running their own game, they wouldn’t be that stupid. Running for the big time? They’d know the location of all the cameras, and they certainly wouldn’t be caught seen on any of them. They were too cavalier,” Dace added.
“Unless they wanted to be seen,” Liam offered with a shrug. “Maybe they’re playing us – smoke and mirrors shit. We need guys out on the street with ears to the ground.”
“Gannon,” Dace said, a statement not a question because he knew this was what Liam was suggesting. His brothers each nodded. “I’ll make a call.”
Dace rather enjoyed the looks coming from the passing nurses and doctors as he stood at the end of the hall, a short distance down from Ivy’s hospital room.
“Three minutes, man.” Dace chuckled. “You still got it, friend.”
“It’s my rugged good looks.” Toby Gannon said. “Never takes long for the security guards to hover. Am I that pretty, brother? That seems a little faster than usual.”
“I’d say it’s the knife hanging from your waist, but we all know it’s your…dapper attire. You look…friendly.”
Toby Gannon was six-plus feet of black leather and steel-toed boots, with a bad attitude and a look that screamed outlaw. A good friend of the O’Reillys, he also served as one of their own – he was one of The Keepers.
The Keepers were those who worked for the O’Reillys at Brother’s Keeper security, and they could be found stationed all over the world. Most of which were personal friends who served with one another at any given time while in the armed services – branches both on and off the books. You didn’t simply apply to work as a Keeper, you were invited, recruited, and that meant you were family and family took care of each other.
Gannon never fit back into civilian life after his final tour was served in an off-books covert division of government. Given the shit he witnessed, no one could blame him. He, along with several others who lived a nomad lifestyle, found each other, found the O’Reillys, and made up a unique part of their operation.
Called to duty as needed, they served a different purpose than most and subscribed to an alternate lifestyle than their colleagues. Their role was much different; they weren’t as covert as the rest, but rather out in the open, obvious, but somehow maintained a level of anonymity. They consisted of chapters all over the country as an organized motorcycle club, riding as The Keepers MC. Gannon led the Portland charter as president. Gannon’s was the founding charter which hosted as parent group that all charters modeled after.
Dace often ran with them – particularly when he had been searching for Ivy. They allowed him to be who he needed to be every bar fight, every shakedown, every single time he raised hell in a new town. Then they cleaned up after him until the next lead, and he needed to ride again…needed protection…needed his brothers from the club.
The Keepers MC ran like outlaws but were quite the opposite and rode for justice. Their business and activities were always legitimate and by the book. Nothing they did was illegal, even if it was seedy at times. That didn’t mean they didn’t do protection runs for the less than desirable – cartel, drug lords, and less than honest political kingpins – but it was an honest dollar earned from less than honest people. Was it a blurred line they were walking or rather, riding? Absolutely, but it often allowed them an inside look at organized crime and illegal operations that otherwise went under the radar. They were paid to spy, collect intel, and ultimately feed information to those who would eventually bring their clients down when all was said and done…illegal misfits none the wiser.
“She finally found you, huh?” Gannon said, referring to Ivy. “After all those rundowns we made, you made?”
“I know, man. What are the odds? The second I took a time-out to think, she practically shows up in my front yard.” Dace paused, eyes fixed somewhere beyond his friend. “I just don’t get it.”
Gannon slapped his shoulder. “Hey, at least she’s back. Half the mystery is solved, Dacey. We just need to figure out the rest. Any idea when you’ll really get to talk to her?”
“Nah. Doc said he was weaning her off the meds, letting her wake up slowly, hoping she doesn’t freak out again. That was rough to see, Gan. Really fucking rough.”
“You think she’s running from someone?”
“Look, I get that she was disoriented. That anesthesia shit is heavy. But to pull out her IV and all the wires and shit? She got up and tried to run. If she didn’t have a concussion before, she does now.” Dace shook his head as he relived the moment of Ivy’s sheer panic.
“Fear makes you do crazy shit, bro. I think we both know this is more than a coincidence. The shit we’ve seen and done? Someone’s gotta be after her, and it doesn’t matter why at this point…”
“I know. What matters is keeping her safe, and her believing she’s safe. She won’t talk if she feels threatened. I think we’ve established at least that.”
Gannon extended his hand to Dace and pulled him into a half embrace. “Alright, man, I’m gonna head out. I’ll see what the club can get ahold of as far as intel. If something hit the streets of P-town, we’ll know pretty quick.”
“Thanks for coming, Gan. Keep me in the loop — you know where to find me.”
Already making his way down the hall, Gannon tossed a hand in the air in a lazy makeshift wave and said over his shoulder, “Ditto.”
With his back to the wall, Dace watched the security guards follow Gannon, boarding the elevator with him. Flanking him on each side, they stilled when Gannon tossed an arm across the shoulders of each guard. He offered a cocky smile, and the two men escorting him grabbed their Mace. “Let’s get this over with. I know why you’re following me, so which one of you fellas wants to suck my dick first?”
Dace chuckled as the doors began to close. Asshole. He scrubbed his hands down his face, submitting to the exhaustion that overwhelmed him, even if only for a moment. This was heavy shit, and even when he caught a few minutes here or there to rest, it was fitful and full of frustration.
A nurse left Ivy’s nearby room, gaining Dace’s attention. He whispered to himself as he stared on, “Jesus, Ivy…where have you been? What are you so afraid of?”
6
“Wh-what happened?”
Dace stirred at Ivy’s near whisper and leaned forward from his seat at her bedside to grasp her hand. “You’re okay. I’m here. You’re safe, Ivy.”
She turned her confused gaze on him, eyes squinting as if adjusting to the dim light as she tried to determine where she was and who he was. His lips swept across her knuckles, and she startled.
“What are you doing? How did you get in here?” Ivy abruptly pulled her hand from his gentle grip and tried to scoot back in her bed, pulling the blanket to her chest like it was her armor. “Dace?”
“I’m here, honey. It’s me,” he assured in a soft tone as he moved to the edge of her bed in an attempt to bring her comfort and not fear. With a tender touc
h, he cradled the back of her head, trying to offer some semblance of comfort. “Tell me what’s wrong. How can I help you…?”
Ivy’s eyes danced around the room, panic settling in her expression like he was watching her wake up from a terrible nightmare she wasn’t sure had passed. “The hospital.”
A subtle sense of knowing fell upon her as her head bobbed up and down as if agreeing with the flooding memories she had to be exploring. She was remembering – what she was remembering was left to question.
She lifted her injured arm to assess the cast she wore before reaching for her forehead with her other hand, cringing when she touched the swollen gauze-covered gash she’d earned when she tried to run. “I’m still…here?”
“Portland. Yes,” he said, his nerves seeming to get the best of him. He didn’t know what to do. Call a doctor or prepare to intercept another escape attempt. “Do you know why you’re here?”
Ivy dropped her hands to her lap and inspected them as if they held the answers. Her mouth moved, but not a word passed through her lips. With tear-filled eyes, she looked at Dace again. “The men?”
Dace shook his head. “You remember them. That’s good. What else do you remember, honey?”
“Oh my God!” she shouted. Shoving the blankets off her, she tried to raise to her knees to better scan the space as if she’d lost something and desperately needed to find it. “Where is he? Where is he?” She looked around Dace to see if whoever, or whatever, she was searching for was there. “He’s… He’s…” A sob escaped her.
“Who, Ivy?” Dace circled an arm around Ivy’s shoulders as an attempt to protect her from whatever she feared at that moment. His expression was helpless and defeated. “The men? Are you running from something? Someone?”
Her breath caught when she covered her mouth as if the reality of her situation was beginning to settle in. The confusion that consumed her appeared to be resolving, like the pieces to a scattered puzzle coming together in the form of her once-clouded memories. It left her in an emotional state Dace didn’t understand. He didn’t remember an emotional or frantic Ivy. He only remembered Ivy as calm, collected, and not easily riled but fiery and strong when she needed to be. But as quickly as her emotions rose, they fell. Ivy was retreating back into herself. Or the self she wanted Dace to see. Just as quickly as the fear washed over her, it receded, and her once frazzled expression was now one of stone. Emotionless. Hardened.
“No,” she responded. “I’m… There’s nobody. I was… I was just confused.”
“How did you get here, Ivy?” Dace asked.
With a quick whip of her head, she opened her mouth to speak again but stopped and remained silent as though she caught herself doing something wrong. Ivy turned away once more, hugging herself at the waist as she reeled in the panic that kept breaking free and dancing in her expression.
“Ivy?”
Unnerved, Ivy quickly jerked her head in Dace’s direction at the sound of her name, training her eyes on him again.
“How did you get here?”
With a moment’s hesitation, she finally replied, “By ambulance, I suppose. I don’t recall getting here on my own.”
Shit, Dace thought, dropping his head in frustration. He’d been praying for her memory and lucidity so he could get to the bottom of her arrival and subsequent attack but that prayer answered made him regret believing in anything. Ivy was guarded, and it wasn’t lost on him how quickly she was able to reach such a state, given the circumstances. This was a well-practiced trait and not natural. He’d been in the business long enough to recognize self-preservation by way of silence. Hell, he’d written the book on it.
“You did come by ambulance, but I think you know that’s not what I mean. Right?” Dace waited for her response but was ignored. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me…”
“Help me? What makes you think I need or want your help, Dace?”
He recalled how feisty and headstrong Ivy could be, but this was more than that. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what this was, but he knew it exceeded anger, well above fear, and landed somewhere around pissed the hell off.
He originally wanted to tread lightly, but this new challenge was one he happily accepted. Two could play at this. “Oh, I don’t know, Ivy. Maybe the fact that you wrote my damn name on your arm shortly after being beaten within an inch of your life and just before you lost consciousness?”
“I-I don’t recall that. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Her head cocked back, quivering chin jutted out, and those threatening tears finally breached, gliding down her black and blue face.
Dace ran his hands through his hair and moved back to his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. “Don’t do this. Don’t hide, not from me. Not anymore. What aren’t you telling me? Who were those men, and why did they want you dead?”
His voice gently quaked on his last word, and it was her total undoing. Another sob escaped, and she relaxed back into her bed, giving in to whatever pain she’d been battling and the tears she’d been withholding. She was tired, too tired to fight, and Dace could see that. But just as he thought he’d broke her, she mustered up the strength to resist his questioning again.
“I’m not hiding,” she said with a sniffle, wiping her tears. “I’m just…back in town.”
“Okay. That’s a start,” he said. “Were you in trouble?”
“Trouble? Jesus, I’m not five. No, I’m not in trouble.” Her sarcastic reply was sharp. “I was ready to…stop traveling. And…come home.”
Dace snorted. He didn’t believe her and played back. “So what, you thought I’d just be here after all these years…waiting for you?”
“No.” She shrugged.
“Then why my name, Ivy? Why was it on your arm?” He reached for her arm and turned it over. “You can still see where it was. Where you wrote it.”
“I would ask how you knew I wrote it, but never mind. I remember who you and your brothers are,” she chided. “There’s no such thing as privacy when you’re affiliated with the notorious O’Reilly brothers. I see Liam is still hacking and watching everyone. Surprised you guys still get away with that. I mean…it’s illegal for the rest of us.”
“Okay. So this is how this is going to play out.” Dace rolled his eyes. “I know what you’re trying to do, darlin’, and it isn’t gonna work because you’re right – I’m one of the notorious O’Reilly brothers, and we don’t give up on shit, and we certainly don’t give up this easy. You remember that part, right? You remember who I am and how I am, right? You know that I’m not going away. You know my brothers aren’t going away. You knew that when you came to town. You knew that when you made it blocks from our building. You knew that when you wrote my name on your arm.”
“Oh please. I can see the ego thing hasn’t changed. Are you all still single? Because I wouldn’t be surprised if you were…those attitudes and the whole beating your chest with do you know who we are crap. Ugh,” she said with disgust. “It’s so ten years ago and not cute anymore, Dacey.”
Dacey. He wondered if she realized she’d even called him that. If he was so off-putting, then why would she use the nickname only his family – and Ivy – ever used? It was personal. It was endearing. It meant something. This was all just a façade – one of many he was sure to witness and be forced to break through. She came here for him, and he wouldn’t be convinced otherwise, but she wasn’t ready to show her cards. There was something more. Something she was trying to protect, even from him, and he was certain she would keep up this charade until whatever that was couldn’t be threatened, or she was ready to tell him what she was hiding.
“So, you were looking for your family? Mean to write Dad and not Dace on your arm?”
She shot him a cold stare. “You know my parents have both passed.”
“So, you heard about your dad...” Dace was prodding for unintentional clues.
“Of course I know he passed away. I’m his daughter. What the hell is wrong
with you?”
“Nothin’, honey. How was I supposed to know you’d heard? You had been gone a while before his passing, and last I spoke to him, he hadn’t a clue where you were – nobody did. The man was completely distraught, in fact. Thought you’d run away from all of us.”
“He said that?” Her expression was one of surprise.
“He sure did. I told him we were looking for you. He offered to help – wanted to pay us for our time and troubles.”
“Well…that seems…like my father. I didn’t tell him where I was. I can see why he might…worry.”
Dace sat on her response for a moment and let it settle in. Her reaction was odd at the mention of her father, as was the surprise she displayed. Ivy’s response was off. It didn’t match the confident deflecting she’d been serving, and Dace noted that. The clues are in the details, and he knew that was something. He also knew…it was all a lie. Ivy’s dad hadn’t passed away.
Last conversation Dace had with the man was a goodbye. He’d left town as there were too many painful reminders in Portland, he’d said. His wife had died, and his daughter left without a trace. But Ivy seemed to think – or know – he was dead. Perhaps he was dead – Dace had tried searching for him at one point, and he’d been as unsuccessful at finding Ivy’s father as he had at finding Ivy.
“I just don’t understand, Ivy. Why? Why’d you disappear?”
“You know why,” she muttered. “I asked you not to sign another contract, begged even.”
“It was a year. A fucking year, Ivy. We knew I’d be home for most of that year, and the bonus…” Dace stalled and collected himself. They were getting off track; she was getting them off track. It wasn’t the time to discuss them because there were bigger issues to unravel. “You’d never just leave over something like that.”
Brother's Keeper V: Wylie (the complete series BOX SET): NEW RELEASE + Series Box SET included! Page 96
