Ким Карр - Mended

I step around the counter and Amy crosses to the sink to rinse the bowls before loading them into the dishwasher. “We’ll catch up in Bristow, then,” she says with a smile.

I know I should tell her about Ivy, but I need to get out of here. “Listen, River’s waiting for me. I’m just going to grab some things.” I direct the statement her way, already walking down the hallway toward the bedroom. When I come back out she’s sitting at the breakfast bar drinking a cup of coffee.

“Pour a cup to go if you want. I just made it,” she says, motioning to the pot.

I do, then snatch my stuff off the counter, say goodbye, and jet.

* * *

My nerves are buzzing by the time I walk in my house well after ten. I’d picked River and Dahlia up at the hospital, helped him get her settled, sat and just talked to him while Dahlia slept, talked with my mother, with Bell, and with Jack when he came over after work with dinner in hand. At least Amy was gone by the time we got back from the hospital, so I didn’t have to deal with that guilt. The pain I feel for River and Dahlia, plus my mother’s crying, and Bell’s strange behavior, on top of not having talked to Ivy yet, are putting my temper into overdrive.

I flop down in a chair in my living room and run my hands through my hair. Then I decide to call Garrett. Fucking voice mail again. I’m the band manager—they should be answering when I call. I hang up and slam my phone down, then throw my head back, just closing my eyes.

I hear a faint ringing noise. Glancing at my watch, I notice I’ve been asleep for thirty minutes. It’s my phone. I quickly answer it.

“Yeah.”

“Hey, man, sorry I missed your call.”

I sit up and focus. “Anything going on I should know about? I’ve been trying to get hold of Ivy since I got home and she hasn’t picked up.”

He clears his throat. “I’m not really sure what’s going on. I would have called you, but I can’t find her.”

Standing up, I start to pace the room. “What the fuck do you mean you can’t find her? Did she do the show?”

“Yeah. I don’t know how to say this, man, but Damon showed up just before the show and they disappeared into her room. She came out, did the show, and vanished. None of us have seen her since.”

“Did you talk to Leif?” I can hear the irritation in my voice.

“Yes. He doesn’t know either.”

The blood pounds through my veins. “Why the fuck wouldn’t you have called me the minute that asshole showed up?”

“Xander, you weren’t here and there was nothing you could do.”

“Just fucking keep looking for her and call me the minute you know anything. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I tell him and hang up.

I leave all my shit and just grab my keys. I peel my Porsche onto the street. The engine roars and the tires squeal. Slamming on my brakes only when I need to, I run every red light. I circle through the airport garage but find no empty spots, so I park in a handicap space. Fuck it—let them tow it. Right now I’m pissed as hell, and the last thing I care about is my fucking car. I hustle to get into the terminal and somehow manage to get on the red-eye to New York City.

“Sir, can I get you something to drink?” the flight attendant asks when I take my seat.

“Yeah, a Jack and Coke. No, make that two Jack and Cokes.”

Bars surround me. I’m wearing an orange jumpsuit. “I did it, Dad. I’m sorry. It’s my fault.”

His face fades in and out, but I can see he’s frowning. “You’ll have to pay the price for your sins, son. Your apology can’t help you.”

Fuck. I wake up in a cold sweat just as the wheels touch down at JFK. The effects of the alcohol have long since worn off; I push that dream far from my mind as I exit the plane and scramble to rent a car. It’s seven a.m. and once I’m flying down the highway, I call Garrett. The band is playing in Hartford and I’m humping ass to get there.

“Hello,” he answers groggily, obviously asleep.

“I’m just leaving New York City. I’ll be there in two hours. Did you find her yet?”

“No, man. I’m sorry. No sign at all. She didn’t come back to the bus. We waited as long as we could. Leif said she told him after the show she’d meet us in Hartford. We still waited as long as we could before pulling out of New York.”

“Did she say anything else to Leif?”

“No. He asked her what was going on, but she said she didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay. Call me if you hear anything else.”

“You know I will.”

“Thanks.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I hit the accelerator and pound my palms against the steering wheel. What the hell is going on?

* * *

Just shy of two hours later, I pull into the XL Center in Hartford, Connecticut. There are two tour buses there—one of them ours. I slam the car into PARK right next to it and pound on the door. John opens it. “Hey, buddy, where you been?”

I give him a cursory nod, but say nothing and head toward her room, crossing through the front lounge first. No one is around. I quickly stride to the galley, and find that it too is empty. When I hit the back lounge, all the guys are huddled around the table. Rubbing my hand over my stubbled jaw, I assess the room before walking through the door. She’s not in here, but three mouths drop open when the guys turn to look at me. My eyes catch Garrett’s first and I stare him down. He looks nervous as he stands up and heads my way. Stopping in front of me, he places his hand on my shoulder. “Hey, can we talk outside?”

I jerk away, feeling agitated and unnerved. “No, we can talk now. Where the fuck is she?”

“She’s here,” he mumbles.

I dart to her bedroom and fling the door open, but it’s empty. I spin around toward Leif, who’s behind me. “Where the hell is she?”

“I think you should sit down and let us explain.”

“Where is she?” I ask again, getting closer, my eyes flashing with fury.

He swallows a few times. “In the other bus, but we need to explain.”

I don’t need to hear any explanation. I take off like a bat out of hell to the other bus I saw when I pulled in. My heart pounds and my stomach is in knots as I approach. Pulling the doors open, I take the two steps in one and find myself face-to-face with a burly dude at least twice my girth. He levels a serious stare at me and I return the same to him.

He comes right up to my face and grabs my shirt with his fist, almost picking me up off the floor. “Any reason you felt you couldn’t knock?” he mutters, his lips flapping over his set of double chins.

I laugh. As if anything he thinks he can do is going to intimidate me or stop me.

“It’s okay, Johnny.” A voice colder than ice comes from behind the ninja assassin.

Johnny steps aside and then directly in front of me I see the asshole himself—Damon Wolf. I lurch forward to drop him on the spot, but his bodyguard stops me. He’s got my arms twisted behind my back, so I use my feet and kick his shins—hard.

He doesn’t make a sound or move a muscle, except to pull tighter on my arms. It feels like he might pull them out of the sockets if he pulls any harder.

Turning my head, I try to spit in his face, but he picks me up and quickly slams my head into an overhead compartment. I can feel a faint trickle of liquid oozing down my face as he sets me down.

With my head throbbing, I stare at the man in front of me. “Where is she!”

“She’s safe with me. You don’t need to worry about her.” Hearing this, I want to punch the smug look right the fuck off his face.

“Ivy,” I yell and again flatten my work boot against the guy’s shin. This time he clocks my face on the small counter and I think my nose just might be broken. “Fuckkkk,” I yell and when I look up I see her.

“Stop it!” she screams.

I wipe the blood from my face and stare at her. She’s wearing a tight white dress that hugs her curves perfectly. The neck is high and so is the hemline. Her hair is pulled back and her sapphire earrings sparkle in the morning light shining through the windows. I let out a huge sigh of relief that she’s all right. Searching her body for signs of abuse, I see none—none that appear physical anyway. But she looks at me with a deep sadness I’ve never seen in her eyes before and my heart slams out of my rib cage. Adrenaline spikes through me and I manage to somehow free myself. I shove Damon out of my way and move toward her.

“Come with me,” I tell her, wiping my palms on my jeans before trying to take her hand.

“I can’t,” she whispers and pulls her hands behind her back.

My knees buckle at her words, and the ninja is on me again.

“Leave him alone,” she orders in a much sterner voice. She then looks at Damon. “You said you’d leave him alone.”

“And I will, my angel, when he leaves us alone.”

Us. I feel like I might puke right here. I look at Ivy and then I can see it—her eyes are red and swollen, her face looks lifeless, but she regards me with what I think is pity.

“That’s not going to happen.” I direct the statement to Damon and shift slightly before finding her eyes again. “Ivy, what’s going on?”

She doesn’t answer me, but repeats herself, this time screaming at Damon. “You said you’d leave him alone.”

My eyes are narrowed on her and I’m moving closer now that there is room. “I don’t need you or anyone else to fight my battles.” The closer I get to her, the faster my heart beats. Without any hesitation, I run my hand down her cheek. But before I can talk to her, the wind is knocked out of me by a swift punch in my side, and then my arms are restrained again. Sucking in a painful breath, I narrow my eyes at Damon. I would kill him in a minute if I knew I could get away with it.

“How about you and me outside—now,” I hiss.

“Xander, Xander, Xander. So much like your father.”

My eyes slam to Ivy, who noticeably flinches, and back to him. Everything about him is revolting. His words infuriate me, set my blood on fire, and I turn, trying to move toward him, consumed by a rage I haven’t felt since the day I saw my sister’s fingers bleeding. But again I’m blocked by his bodyguard. “Now, listen, Xander. You don’t want to end up like your father, do you?”

My father’s last words haunt me—Damon Wolf. I spit in his face and this time I hit my mark. “What do you know about my father?” I spit out.

Removing a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his cheek, he says, “I’ll give you that one, but now you need to walk away and know she’ll be happy with me.”

Ivy’s cries turn into sobs.

“Ivy, angel, stop crying and come here.”

She doesn’t move.

“Ivy! Come over here so we don’t have to shout,” he commands, his eyes speaking to her in a language I don’t understand. She walks with trepidation toward him. She’s shaking and I know she’s scared. He takes her hand and I cringe, again trying to free myself.

“We have an announcement and you’re going to be the first to hear it. In fact, you can be the first to congratulate us. We got married today.”

Her face pleads with me for something—understanding, maybe—and the sudden pain that strikes my body is unbearable. I try to struggle free, but the adrenaline surge I had is gone.

She looks at me a moment longer before his barking voice commands, “Angel, tell him how much you missed me. Tell him how you begged me to forgive you, to take you back because you loved me. How much you regretted leaving me. Tell him how it took him to make you see I was right for you.”

“Damon, please stop,” she says to him, with tears streaming down her face.

My gut twists with disgust. “Ivy?”

Her body trembles.

Still unable to believe it, I finally ask, “Is it true? Did you marry him?”

She nods her head.

“Why?” I don’t even recognize my own voice at this point.

“Let it be, Xander,” she pleads.

I look around at the posh surroundings. “Does this have to do with money?” I ask her.

Her face turns to anger.

“You need money. Is that why you joined the band so eagerly? Is that what this was all about?”

“Yes,” she cries out, but for some reason I feel like she’s saying no.

Damon laughs. “Keep trying to figure it out and you’ll keep coming back to square one. Love speaks for itself. She just couldn’t stand to be without me. She loves me. Has for years. Her mother told me about you two when the picture surfaced and I’ve forgiven her for her slight misjudgment.”