Finders Keepers (The Nighthawks MC Book 3)

by Bella Knight

“Whaddya want?” asked Bella. “I’ve got some spiced cider, apple juice with cinnamon, no alcohol. I’ve got some energy drinks too.”

  “Energy drink now, apple cider later,” said Callie.

  Ivy unlocked the doors, and no one had time for anything except moving their asses. The band went into Stevie Ray Vaughn’s The House is Rockin’ and Sweet Little Thing, followed by a blistering rendition of Sammy Hagar’s I Can’t Drive 55. That was followed by Journey’s Any Way You Want It. The beer flowed, and baskets of chicken wings and poppers and fries flowed out of the kitchen, and the dance floor was full. Callie found her feet moving faster than they ever had. She stuck to energy drinks for the first few hours.

  Callie didn’t speak to Ivy the entire night. Ivy drank with customers, slapped shoulders, exchanged stories, and zipped behind the bar to make drinks when people got more than one deep at either bar. She ran food out of the kitchen, danced with the dancers, and hopped up to the stage to sing, Kiss Me Deadly with the band.

  Callie wondered where and how Ivy got her energy. Callie’s feet felt like lead balloons, her thighs screamed at her, her hair was falling out of its high ponytail, and her makeup was long gone. She barely had enough time to wolf down some poppers and fries and reapply some lip gloss on her break.

  Callie noticed some tourists, but most of the patrons wore motorcycle boots-and-jackets, or were tattooed motorcycle club members. She smiled and laughed, and felt safer than she’d ever felt.

  She stopped, nearly falling over when the band started putting their instruments and the last calls for food and alcohol rang out.

  “Keep going,” said Raven. “We have a lot of side work to do.”

  They filled up all the condiments; salt, and pepper, and wiped down all the tables, and swept out their station. Ivy helped everyone out to cars or bikes or taxis, keeping a close eye on any drunk patrons, calling cabs or Uber rides for them. She shared the last laugh with the last patron, and Bella and Ace counted their drawers while the girls counted tips. Raven let her keep a few tens.

  “You’ll be fine,” she said. “Now go fall down.”

  The dancers and the servers left as the bar backs drained the ice tubs and refilled their carts. Ace and Bella walked their deposits back to Ivy and Lily in the back, wiped everything down and put away the last glasses.

  Ivy popped out, Lily behind her. “Books are done, Lily’s doing the deposit,” she announced. “Everyone get the fuck out of here.” There was a mass exodus.

  Callie stumbled out after Ivy. “You drive?” she asked, handing her the keys.

  Ivy laughed. “We’ll pick up the kids, then you’re getting a hot shower, and bed.”

  “Yes,” said Callie.

  The girls were both asleep. Callie got Grace into the car, and Ivy got Hu. Ivy drove and helped them all get inside and into the bunk beds. Ivy took the dog for a walk while Callie stumbled to the shower. The dog went right to the children, licking Hu’s hand, which had fallen off the bed. She took her own shower and found Callie asleep in the bed. She laughed and turned out the light.

  Confrontation

  The next days were a blur for Callie. She got up, worked out, showered, and got into her all-black work clothes. She wore black jeans and socks and running shoes, then stole one of Ivy’s band shirts, and made the school lunches and breakfast, dropping off the kids. She brought her laptop with her, doing some coursework at the club or a coffee shop. Then she went to work, locked her laptop backpack in her locker, and ran around like a chicken. She grabbed food on a short half-hour break, writing a paper or listening to a lecture in the back room at lunch. She did her side work, counted out her apron change, took out her tips, locked up her apron, went to go pick up the girls, put them in bed, and crashed herself. Callie and Ivy saw each other to kiss, or to have breakfast. At night, they were in opposite bars.

  On Sunday, Callie had a blessedly quiet day without the girls. She walked the dog and did as much coursework as she physically could. She ate healthy non-bar food, and cut up veggies and fruits and put them into containers for the lunches. She made enough chicken, egg, and tuna salad for the week, and sliced cheeses and meats into cool shapes while listening to lectures. Ivy stumbled in, took coffee, and said “Uurr” for about an hour. Ivy fumbled toward having sex, but they were both completely exhausted.

  Callie stroked Ivy’s feet and legs, then rubbed her back. Ivy fell asleep, and Callie gave up and napped with her. Ivy rushed out to work, and Callie did more coursework and prepared the lunchboxes. She did a massive amount of reading and worked as far ahead as she could on the course syllabus without getting lost. She took another nap and a hot bath, and played a stupid video game. Then put on a Twilight movie, and fell asleep on the couch.

  Ivy woke her with butterfly kisses, hyped up after a night of rock. Callie grasped her like a lifeline, kissing her deeply, and touching her as if they’d never touched before, exploring everything. She pulled back Ivy’s hair and kissed her neck. Ivy went nuclear-bomb aggressive, nearly ripping off her clothes, kissing her everywhere.

  “I missed you,” said Ivy. “It drives me crazy, seeing you across the room, and not be able to touch you.”

  Callie kissed her back, ran her fingers up and down her skin. “I need you,” she said. “I love you.”

  “Take me over,” said Ivy. Callie touched Ivy’s thighs, kissed them, and stroked more.

  She found Ivy’s button and pushed it, making her rise and fall, over and over and over again. Ivy brought her up, flipped her over, and started stroking Callie’s back. Callie moaned and arched. She felt Ivy putting a pillow under her hips, spreading her legs. Ivy used her fingers to part her lips, to go inside her. She took a small vibrator, turned it on, and put it on Callie’s button. Callie arched her back and was shocked by her sudden and massive orgasm. Ivy slipped the vibrator in and found the spot that made Callie insane. Callie came again and again.

  Ivy took Callie to the bathroom and washed them both in a lobster-hot shower. She turned it off, and then dried Callie while she was still standing in the tub, and helped her out. She dried Callie’s hair, and Callie dried Ivy’s hair. They put on panties, shorts, and camisoles, and slept the sleep of the living dead.

  They woke up to two little girls feeding them breakfast in bed on trays, with fruit raided from Callie’s lunch stores and cereal. The girls chattered about a climbing place they wanted to go to, so Ivy took them so Callie could rest.

  Callie slept in a little, cleaned up, and worked on her schoolwork. She met Ivy and the girls for a lunch out, of tacos and chips, and salsa and lime sodas. They went to a park with a lake and walked around. The girls saw actual rabbits… huge ones. They picked up sandwiches and the fixings for sundaes for dinner, then they had a rousing game of Twister, making the girls giggle. They switched to the Uno card game, and Callie won one game, and Hu won two.

  The girls went to go work on the Mars game. The princess, as it turned out, was not being held against her will, but needed the gem to save her brother. The girls perfected their spy craft on Mars and petted the dog while Callie and Ivy watched dumb TV. They popped popcorn and added M&Ms and split the stash with the kids, and laughed their heads off. They all went to bed early, exhausted.

  The whirlwind started again. Callie actually started to become used to the lack of sleep, the hurting feet and back, and doing homework in snatches. What used to be everyday sex became once or twice a week. She tried not to complain; she was able to buy her own loadable card to pay for school, pay the phone bill for herself, and pay some of the house bills, like food and the power bill.

  Callie danced across the edge of the dance floors, passing out beers and taking money. She found out that, if she didn’t have any food or drink orders in hand, she could simply fill a tray with a variety of beers and have them sell out in a few minutes. Bella caught on to what she was doing and kept a tray with cold beers ready to go. Ivy hired a college student with roller skate shoes as a food runner, so the food came out hot a
nd fast and the tables turned more quickly. Work started, from time to time, to become fun, and everybody got more tips. The only people that complained were Ivy, for having to buy more cases of beer, and Bella and Ace for having to stock them.

  Callie emptied her tray and went back to the bar to pick up another tray of beers when someone stood in front of her. It took less than a second to realize it was the ex-boyfriend who had broken her arm, Benji Braud.

  He looked down at her, leering. “Hey, babe,” he said.

  “Get out of my fucking way,” she said and walked around him.

  He grabbed her arm. Callie twisted, and brought up the tray and hit him under the chin. He yelped, blood blossoming on his lips, but he didn’t let go. She stomped on his foot and twisted her arm until it would be impossible for him to hold on.

  He yelled, “Bitch!” He tried to grab her, but he was grabbed from behind.

  Two of the bar’s patrons had him. One put him in a headlock and the other grabbed his legs, and they hauled him out of the bar.

  Ivy was under the pass-through and was opening the door for the patrons before Callie could move. Callie rushed toward Ivy, who followed the patrons out the door. She rushed out after them into the night.

  “Put him down, boys, said Ivy, her voice cold. “I’ve got this. The Nighthawks thank the Iron Knights.”

  They let him go. He fell heavily on the pavement.

  He got up. “You fucking bitch!” he said and lunged.

  Ivy stepped aside and kneed him in the stomach. Benji folded himself in half.

  “You are 86’d. Get off my property. Don’t come back. Callie doesn’t want to see you, I don’t want to see you. Understand?”

  “Fuck you!” he said. Something very dark moved across his eyes. “She kidnapped my kid.”

  Ivy laughed, an icy sound that was absolutely terrifying.

  “That’s not your kid. Let’s prove it right now.” She punched Benji in the face, and his nose blossomed into blood.

  She took a napkin out of her pocket and wiped his bloody face. She took a plastic bag out of her pocket and sealed it.

  “Boulder, could you get this tested?” she said.

  The Iron Knight on the right, a cop named James Martinez who went by Boulder because of his size, took the baggie.

  “Sure thing,” he said.

  “Bitch!” said Benji.

  “Don’t you know any other words?” asked Ivy. “Now. Get. Off. My. Property.”

  He lunged, and Ivy kicked him in the balls.

  Callie walked up to him. “You are the dumbest shit on the planet. I have no idea how you found me, but you just tried to beat up a woman in a biker bar. The guys behind you are Iron Knights, which means they are probably ex-military or police. So, dumbass, I suggest you run, as fast as your stupid little legs will carry you.”

  “Wait,” said Ivy. “I forgot. There should be a warrant out for his breaking your arm.”

  “He broke her arm?” asked Boulder.

  “In New Orleans. In front of her daughter,” said Ivy. “I showed up about a minute later.”

  Boulder made a sound like crushing gravel. “Cuffs,” he said to his buddy, a female with close-cropped hair and hard green eyes.

  She took out a plastic tie, pulled his hands behind his back, and pulled out her cell.

  “I’ll call a bus.” Boulder kept a hand on Benji’s shoulder.

  The woman put her phone away. “Come by after work, Callie,” said the woman. “We’ll take a statement, and get Dumbass here someplace very… confined.”

  “I’ve got to pick up the girls after work,” Callie said.

  “We’ll type something up, just have you sign it,” said the woman. “It’ll take five minutes.”

  “Thanks for the assist,” said Ivy.

  “I’m Cuffs,” said the woman. “I have the highest arrest rate of any detective in domestic abuse cases.” She smiled an evil smile. “He just tried to assault a woman in a bar full of cops and military. He’s going down for a while.”

  “Thanks,” said Callie. “Just so you know, dumbass, after I sign the paper tonight, I’ll never think about you again.”

  She turned to Ivy, and almost recoiled at the icy anger she saw there.

  “Ivy,” she said, inclining her head. She touched Ivy’s hand, and turned and walked into the bar.

  Benji tried to get out of Boulder’s grip, lunging at Ivy. Ivy calmly kicked him in the balls again with a steel-toed boot. He doubled over, the breath coming out of him like the air going out of a tire. Boulder let go, and Benji dropped to the ground.

  Ivy looked down at him. “If you even think about my girlfriend again, I’ll remove your face,” she said. “You’re never having kids again as it is.” She looked up and inclined her head. “The Nighthawks recognize the help of the Iron Knights.” She grinned. “You’re damn good at what you do.”

  “Abso-fucking-lutely!” said Cuffs.

  Ivy saw Callie back at work. She needed to dump the adrenaline before she went back out and popped the idiot’s head off. She went to the stage and signaled the band. They went into Lita Ford’s Kiss Me Deadly, Joan Jett’s I Love Rock N’ Roll, and Heart’s Barracuda. They finished the set with Pat Benatar’s Heartbreaker.

  She took the mic to the dancers’ plinths during the guitar-shredding solos, dancing her heart out. The beer and bourbon flowed, the cocktail servers were slammed. The bar backs rushed to fill up the bar carts with ice and beer, and Ivy was free. For a moment, she was free.

  Ivy fished out the security video and dumped it into several files. Ivy texted the particulars to Ace, who texted Boulder, a friend of his. Ace sent her the email for the cops, and she sent it out. The doctor’s records of Callie’s broken arm were released, and her complaint was found. An idiot in New Orleans got reamed for not following up on Callie’s complaint.

  Ivy followed Callie to the cop shop around the corner when they got off work, leaving Lily and Ace to close up. Two of the Iron Knights followed. The form was mostly filled out. Callie filled in the blanks and walked right back out. They all went, with their escorts, to pick up the girls. Henry came out to help put them in the car, rightly figuring that both women would either be on an adrenaline high or getting off of one. They drove by Sonic, and the girls chattered and played their game while the women ate chicken fingers and consumed an unholy amount of sugar in the form of both shakes and mini sundaes.

  The girls went to bed with the dog. Ivy led Callie to the bedroom.

  Callie shook like an angry chihuahua while Ivy picked up two pillows and let Callie hit them.

  “I think you need to take up kickboxing,” she said.

  “Oh my god, if there isn’t enough on my plate,” said Callie.

  “Do you want another job, or to take some time off?” asked Ivy.

  “No!” said Callie. “I need it. I need to work. It pays for my school. I just… the school, the lunches, the bar... I’m running out of time.”

  “Can you train someone else to do the lunches?” asked Ivy.

  Callie slapped her own head. “I’m an idiot. If Grizzly knew how to do it, he’d do it.”

  “Tomorrow,” said Ivy, taking Callie into her arms.

  “I’m so fucking mad,” said Callie.

  “Do you want to kickbox some more?” asked Ivy.

  “No,” said Callie, “I’m exhausted.”

  “We can have wild, monkey sex,” said Ivy.

  “I wish I wanted to, but that ugly human being makes me feel... dirty.”

  “Take a shower,” said Ivy, “and come to bed.” She kissed Callie. “I will never let anyone hurt you again, and you’ll learn kickboxing, and you’ll kick their butts. Plus, we have the Nighthawks and the Iron Knights.”

  Callie laughed ruefully. “He is so stupid! Two motorcycle clubs were in there!”

  “Four,” said Ivy. “Ace and I held the others back. No use killing the guy. He’s not worth it.”

  “Blood on the pavement,” said Callie
, shuddering. Then, she began to cry angry tears.

  Ivy held her, then led her, took off her clothes, sat her in the tub, drew the hot water, and washed her hair and conditioned it. She lovingly bathed her, bathed herself, drained the tub, and filled it again. She rubbed her girlfriend’s back with one hand and put her other arm around Callie’s shoulders. Callie cried out her rage, and pain, and helplessness with sick fear.

  When Callie stopped, she washed her face. “No one will ever hurt you like that again,” said Ivy. “If someone tries,” she said, her voice frighteningly calm, “I will kill them. Then Ace will help me bury the body.”

  Ivy got out, helped Callie out, drained the tub, dried them both off, dried Callie’s hair and helped her dress, and then put her in the bed. She looked out the window and saw a bike in the street. Ace, she realized.

  She walked into the kitchen and saw a bike in the alley. Gregory, she thought. She looked out the front window, and saw a third bike, with a huge rider. Boulder. She got two bottles of water and went back to bed to hold her girlfriend. It took her a much longer time to sleep, but she was calm and focused. Safe.

  Benji Braud kept breathing through his teeth. A doctor saw him. The buzz-cut cop cuffed one of his hands to the exam table. The doctor injected him with something, then put his nose back in place. Benji screamed. The doctor packed his nose. Benji tried to headbutt the doctor while also trying to hit him with his other hand.

  The cop cuffed both his hands together, and said, “Please try to hit the doctor again,” calmly, right in his face. “I would like for you to show yourself as being even more violent.”

  The doctor took blood and finished packing his nose. Benji kept up a steady stream of cusswords, in both English and French. The doctor wiped down Benji’s bloody face. The butch cop led him off to the cop shop around the corner.

  Two uniform cops met the one with the buzz cut. They led him off to the interrogation room and cuffed him to the table.

  “I wanna lawyer,” he said.

  “Okay,” said the buzz-cut cop, now in a slim black suit. She looked like someone from the FBI, with shiny shoes and confidence oozing out from her pores.