by Marie Harte
“That a question?” He laughed. “I’m Ross, Willie’s friend.” The man looked to be in his midfifties, a redhead, not in bad shape, but definitely younger than Willie by a decade or so. He was slender, dressed in a sweat suit, and looked like he’d been exercising, if the sweat on his forehead was any indication. He sat on her ugly couch and waited.
Banging on the stairs told her Willie was coming down. And maybe…someone else?
Willie arrived, walking slowly, as usual, with her cane. She had on a housedress, but her hair looked frazzled. Behind her, Rupert came as well, dressed only in sweatpants.
“Ah, I came to get Cookie,” Ivy announced as the pair stopped in their tracks upon seeing her.
“He’s here…somewhere. Oh, wait. I think he’s watching TV with Mathmos in the green room.” Willie took a seat on the couch.
“Right.” Ross stood. “I’ll get him.” He left.
Rupert took a seat next to Willie. “So this is Ivy? Sam’s girl?”
“Mm-hmm.” Willie studied her. “You been keeping him away.”
“No. Well, we’re dating, but I would have thought he’d have been by before now.”
“Oh, he was.” Willie nodded. “Yesterday. Found two more kittens to home. He’s all fucked up.”
Rupert nodded. “On account of his mother.”
“Rupert.”
“What? It’s not a secret.” He patted her knee, then tried to move his hand up her leg.
“Save it for later.” Willie slapped his hand away. “Wait for Ross.”
Ivy goggled the pair. No way. Willie and Rupert and…Ross? The old woman had a threesome going on?
Willie shot her a sly grin. “Something you needed, Ivy?”
Ivy coughed to clear her throat. “Yes. I mean, besides Cookie, I’m not sure what’s wrong with Sam. He won’t talk to me.”
“He will. He’s just scared of what he done. Not sure if he made the right call or not and it’s eatin’ him up inside.”
“Oh.” She didn’t understand, but she needed to talk to Sam about this, not Willie. “I just want to help him.”
Willie nodded. “You do, and you will. Just give him time. He’ll come back.” She leaned forward as Ross came down the stairs carrying a happy Cookie. “They all do. Especially if you work it just right.” She made a thrusting motion with her hips from the couch that Ivy would have thought impossible.
Rupert started laughing. Ross saw and wiggled his brows. “Hey, Ivy. Got plans for tonight?”
She grabbed the puppy and left the three of them laughing so hard they cried. Not that she believed for one minute Ross had been involved romantically with the lovebirds. Yet…
Who knew with Willie?
* * *
The next day, Sam still hadn’t called. But to Ivy’s shock, on the news, reports of the duo who’d been robbing Queen Anne’s shops made headlines. Apparently, Willie, Rupert, and Ross—an undercover policeman—had bungled the Junkin’ and Funkin’ Robbers. To Ivy’s astonishment, the two men she’d met that day at work, whom Sam had scared away, had tried robbing Willie’s place.
A big mistake and, from what she’d heard, a hilarious one. It seemed Tyrant had tripped up one of the men while Mathmos and Pygar had rounded up the others, with Rupert bludgeoning them with his cane while Willie placed them all under citizen’s arrest. And somehow Ross had been directing the action, if the news report was to be believed. Already the YouTube video of the arrest had gone viral.
Ivy had to wonder. Had Ross really been sexing it up with Willie, or was that all a cover? What did Sam think of the arrest? She didn’t know because he hadn’t called.
More worried than angry, Ivy decided to drive to his house. She parked in a spot next to his car and knocked, having left Cookie at home. If things with Sam got ugly, she didn’t want to have to deal with the puppy too.
Much as she wanted to respect his need for space, she worried about him. If he’d only talk to her, she’d go away and wait. But the distance made her itchy to at least see him, to know he was physically okay. She didn’t like him pulling away from her.
She knocked. No one answered, so she knocked again. As she listened closer, she heard muffled voices.
She twisted the knob, and to her surprise, it opened. “Sam?” She walked inside and closed the door behind her. “It’s Ivy,” she called out.
To her astonishment, a gorgeous woman with long, dark-brown hair and hateful eyes glared at her. “So this is the bitch you’re throwing me over for?”
Ivy stared, not sure she was hearing right. “Excuse me?”
“Fuck you,” the woman snapped. Then she turned to Sam, who had followed her out of the kitchen to the living room. “And fuck you too. This ain’t over, Sam. Not by a long shot.” She pushed past Ivy, knocking her into the wall.
Stunned at the woman’s violence, and at her own sick sense of betrayal, Ivy could only stare. She heard a car with a bad muffler screech out of the parking lot.
Sam sighed. “I’m sorry.”
Ivy took a deep breath and let it out. “For what?”
“That you had to see that.” Sam sat on the couch and held his head in his hands. “She won’t go away.”
Confused and not sure what the heck she’d just witnessed, Ivy cautiously approached. “Who was that?”
He lifted his head, his face blank. “Louise.”
Ivy shook her head, incredulous. The woman had looked like she could have been his sister. But mother? “No way.”
“Yeah. She won’t leave me alone. I tried to get her to go to therapy this time. Told her I was done if she wouldn’t clean herself up. Then I left.” He looked desolated. “Ivy, she followed me home.”
“I’m sorry.” She sat next to him, shocked when he burrowed close and put his head on her chest. The poor guy. He seemed so miserable. “It’s okay, Sam. It’ll be okay.” Not sure why he needed the comfort, she nevertheless gave it freely.
“No, it won’t,” he said, muffled against her shirt. “I’ll never be free of her, Ivy.” He pulled back and gave her the saddest look she’d ever seen.
“Sam.”
“She’s in the blood. Always here.” He tapped his heart. “Same as him.” His eyes looked glassy, as if he might cry, and Ivy froze.
Good Lord. What had happened when he’d gone to visit his mother?
“How old was she when she got pregnant?” she asked quietly.
“Thirteen.” He wiped his eyes and stood, so tense she feared he’d shatter if she touched him. “But she’s always looked young for her age.”
Ivy burned to know about Sam’s father, but she knew now was not the time to ask.
“For a long time, I kept her out of my life,” he said softly. “I did what she wanted, and she left me alone. But she won’t leave now. I’m happy, and she hates that,” he said bitterly and took a few steps away. He looked back at her, and her own tears burned, seeing him so hopeless. “I told her about you. My mistake. She seemed kind of normal, and I know better. I told her I couldn’t bring her drugs. And no more booze, because it’s killing her. I tried to do right by her. Said I had a future to think about, and so did she if she wanted it. But now…”
“Now?” She crossed to him, unable to stay away.
“Now she’s going to haunt me.” He clenched his hands. “You have to go before she ruins you too.”
Ivy refused. “No. Come with me.” She walked with him to his room, wanting privacy, and wasn’t sure what to think when she saw it spotless, no dirt or stacks or mess left at all. What did that mean? Had he cleaned it for her or for some other reason?
“Ivy, you should go.” He sounded so tired.
“Sam, look at me.” She wouldn’t budge until he did. When he lifted his head to meet her gaze, she wanted to cry. “Sam, do you love me?”
A tear slid down his ch
eek, and her heart broke in two. “You don’t understand.” His voice cracked. “You don’t know. She’ll destroy you. Anything I care about, it’s gone.”
“You have Foley and Eileen.”
“Yes, but they’re different. They fought back and she’s afraid of them. They…”
“I can fight back,” she said when he didn’t finish.
“It’s different. Foley’s a hard-ass, and he knows her. Eileen has Jacob now. But you have so much she could take away.”
“Sam?”
“I think you should go.”
Ivy hurt for him, for her, but mostly, she wanted to take that pain from Sam and turn it into something good. So she kissed him. Hard. Taking possession of the man who belonged to her.
At first he resisted, until she pulled out the big guns. She put his hand on her breast, and shoved her hand down his pants, stroking him into an erection in seconds.
“In me,” she ordered and lay back on his bed, kicking off her shoes and shoving down her jeans and panties.
When he stood there, breathing hard, just watching her, she ran her hands between her legs. He opened the snap of his jeans. She started fingering herself, and he groaned.
He ripped open his fly and joined her on the bed. He reached between them to free himself, then she felt him pushing inside her.
He took her hard, and she gave as much back. They kissed and nipped, their passion rising as they each sought to overcome the other. A race to the finish line, and she came just as he did, in a swell of anger, release, and, on her part, hope.
He rested his head on the bed next to her, his body still joined to hers. She stroked his hair, loving him so much.
“You need to do what’s right for you, Sam. Not for me or your mother. For you. I’m not sure why she scares you so much. But I know all about you, and I care. We connect—physically, like this.” She swallowed, taking the plunge. “And so much more. Sam, I love you.”
He tensed but didn’t move, didn’t so much as take a breath.
“She might be a terrible person. She might do terrible things. But if what we have is real, then you have to fight for it. I will.” She kissed his cheek. “I don’t have much that can’t be replaced. I can get another job. Cookie could find happiness with another foster family. I’d miss him, but I’d be okay if he was in a good home. My car is crap, and my possessions mean less than nothing to me.
“But you… My heart would break without you. I’ll fight for you, Sam. Now it’s up to you. Will you fight for me?”
* * *
Sam didn’t know why he felt like Foley would be able to help him. The guy had the perfect life. A great mom. A woman who loved the hell out of him. Smarts and advancement in the job because, yeah, he was that good. People liked him, because he was charming and a good guy.
What was Sam but a burden?
Hours after he’d walked out on Ivy, sated, heartsick, and lonely, he sat next to Foley at Ray’s of all places, because the guy was getting darts tutoring from Heller, that freak.
But seeing Sam, Foley took a break and sequestered them at a table by themselves.
“You look like shit,” Foley stated, tactless as usual.
He glared. “Fuck you.”
“What’s up? You just said you wanted to ask me a question. I could have come to you, asswipe. We don’t have to talk here.” Foley and his giving, shitty, caring attitude.
“Here is fine.” Sam’s eyes felt gritty. Just thinking about how much it would hurt to lose Ivy killed something inside him. But they didn’t know what Louise could do. How tough it could be if the woman took her wrath out on them. He’d protected Foley and Eileen for years. Now they might not be okay. Because of him.
“Well? You’re worrying me, hoss. What’s wrong?” Foley paused. “Or should I say, what did that bitch do now?”
Sam snorted. “Cut right to the heart of it. So my question is this: If you knew someone you loved was going to be hurt because you didn’t protect them, what would you do?”
“Protect them, duh.” Foley kicked back his bottle, finishing the beer. “But that’s not an easy question, really. Because what am I protecting them from? And what’s it going to cost me?”
“Who cares? Isn’t protecting people more important than protecting yourself?”
Foley should know that. The guy was a natural when it came to looking out for the little guy.
“Let’s cut the shit. What’s really going on?”
Sam opened his mouth when Goodie and three of his friends walked up to the table.
“Not now,” Foley growled at him. “Trust me. This is not a good time.”
“Fuck off, Sanders. Hey, Sammie. Look at me, dickhead. You almost broke my jaw defending that whore. How about we make it right?”
Sam saw nothing but red. Trying to protect Ivy had become his world, and now another piece of trash thought he could hurt her? Words, actions, it was all the same.
He stood, needing to do something to solve his problems.
Foley hurried to his feet. “Sam, don’t.”
“Outside.” Sam nodded to the back lot.
“After you, bitch.” Goodie smiled.
Sam stalked off, ignoring Foley’s nagging, Rena’s look of concern, even Earl the bouncer’s frown.
“Yo, Sam. Let me take care of this guy.” Earl tried to stop him.
“I got this, Earl.” Sam yanked his arm away from the bouncer and moved deeper into the shadowed lot, away from any potential interference. The lot was far enough back from the main road that the cops wouldn’t interfere, not able to see much. And the clientele at Ray’s had never been too law-abiding anyway.
“Well?” He waited for Goodie, in the mood to do some serious damage.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Foley, Heller, and a few others join the growing crowd now placing bets. That’s when he saw Goodie’s ace in the hole—a prick who’d been at the House once before being kicked out for cheating. And breaking a guy’s neck.
“Stenson.” He shook his head. “Really, Goodie? You can’t fight me yourself, so you pussied out and hired this dipshit?”
Goodie flushed. “Shut up and fight. Or did your lady tell you not to? She leading you by the dick?”
Stenson, Goodie, and the two other douchebags with him laughed.
“You want to fight?” Big mouth Foley stepped in. “Fine. No more than two at a time.”
Goodie glared. “Step off, Sanders. Before I—”
“He said—no more than two at a time,” Heller repeated in a low voice, and the entire gathering grew quiet.
Goodie blinked. “Ah, hell. Fine. Won’t matter none.”
Sam was tired of waiting. He punched one of the unknowns, then the other. When the first one shook off the hit, Sam brought the guy’s face down to his knee and broke his nose. He took a blow to the back, just above his kidneys, fortunately, and punched the other guy twice, taking him down.
Goodie didn’t look so enthused anymore.
But Stenson practically salivated. “Finally.” He rammed into Sam, taking him to the graveled ground. Then he kicked, his fucking steel-toed boot making contact with a few ribs before Sam could throw him off. Feeling a definite bruise in his side, Sam caught the next boot and jerked the dick off his feet, regaining his own.
The moment Stenson rose, Sam punched and dodged. And again. But Stenson was good, and fortunately, he gave Sam the fight he needed to relieve some stress. Breaking the guy wouldn’t be easy, but in order to get to Goodie, Sam would have to take him down.
“Thanks,” he growled at Goodie, showing a bloodied smile. His lip stung from a blow that had snapped his head back.
Goodie looked scared.
Sam smiled some more.
“Hell. That’s his happy smile,” Foley muttered.
“Ja. Nice.” Heller approv
ed.
Joy.
Sam took Stenson down in a wristlock, avoided getting bitten, then beat the shit out of him. Over and over. He was ready to finish the assbag when a hand grabbed his fist.
He tried to shake it off but found both Heller and Foley holding him back.
“Fuck.”
“Sam, knock it off,” Foley growled, “before Goodie gets away.”
Goodie, that shit, had tried to run, but a few of the regulars held him steady.
“Your turn,” Sam promised with relish.
Goodie paled. “I was just kidding. I’m sorry. Damn it. I—”
Foley and Heller stepped back, and Sam tapped Goodie harder than he needed to knock the little bastard down.
“One hit and he’s out. Motherfucking pussy.” He spat on the man. Piece of crap.
The crowd agreed, shaking their heads. Goodie wouldn’t be welcomed back, that Sam knew.
He’d turned to leave when he saw Earl’s wide eyes and heard Foley swear. He instinctively shifted to the side, aware of someone behind him. But he wasn’t fast enough, because a sharp pain grazed him as he turned.
Senior stood holding a bloody knife.
And Sam’s rage exploded. “That’s it.”
He hit the old bastard just once, knocking him back off his feet, and followed him down, intending to stop this shit permanently.
He only got two more hits in before a group knocked him off Senior and tackled him to the ground.
“No, no, Sam. No killing the old man,” Foley kept saying while Sam fought to take the fucker right out.
Eventually he tired, and his side started to hurt like a bitch. Earl and the others took the trash to their vehicles, while Foley and Heller helped Sam to Foley’s car, examining him on the way.
“Good fight, Sam.” Heller slapped him on the back, and Sam groaned. “Ah, sorry. But you’ll live. Ja. A good fight.” He left with a nod at Foley.
Foley sighed. “Great. Now you really look like shit. And that stab wound. You’re lucky he didn’t hit anything more than he did.”
“Just barely stuck me.” Yet Sam was feeling light-headed. “No hospital.”
He heard Foley talking to Johnny on the phone, and the car roared out of the parking lot.
