“Are you breaking in?”

“No, Doll. I’m admiring this lock because I want one like it for my very own.”

“How many times have I told you not to call her that?” Mav growls.

“Well what the fuck am I supposed to call her? She hates Pumpkin, and Little Stray gets me a fat lip. If you didn’t want us callin’ her Doll, then maybe you shouldn’t have put it on her property patch.”

I slap Mav’s chest and mildly scold him with the look I throw his way. “Doll’s fine.”

“No it the fuck isn’t.”

“It’s either that, or the whole club is going to call me Ginger Snack or Cherry Girl, both you also hate.” When Mav continues to brood about it, I sigh, “Mav.”

“Baby, I don’t want other people callin’ you what I call you when—”

“I guess I could call her baby instead.” Taz stops for a second and turns his head around to smirk at Mav.

When Mav’s arm drops from me and he takes a step toward Taz, I wrap my arm around him and haul him back. As Taz resumes his work on the lock, Mav glares daggers into the back of his head, and after a minute, he mumbles, “Doll’s fine.”

Taz stands and pulls the door open. “See, I knew you’d see it my way.” He enters the building, and Mav and I follow. We then stand side by side as we take in the dilapidated building.

There’s enough light streaming in through the dirty windows that you can see most of the interior of the space. It’s long and quite wide with a V ceiling that has all the scaffolding showing. The walls are brick and were once painted white, but the paint’s chipping and peeling away now. Boxing equipment, most of it in pretty bad shape, is hanging up or littering the floor. The floor itself is wood and is covered in a layer of dust and dirt. The only things in decent condition are the two boxing rings on the far side of the room, which look a lot like the ring the club has set up in the garage.

“What do you want?” A sharp youthful voice rings out, and three things happen. Mav moves his body directly in front of mine and Taz’s hand dips into his vest. Then Taz spots her and points to the form standing in a darkened doorway, halfway on the right side of the gym.

“Ivy?” I ask.

My question is greeted by silence. “It’s Em—it’s Red. Do you remember me? From the shelter?” I step out from behind Mav, though he tries to stop me, and when I’m finally successful, I see his hand is also inside his cut. I inwardly groan as I think about what she’s seeing. Two big, tattooed bikers ready to shoot her.

Yeah, there is no way she’s going to come any closer with these two right here.

“Mav. Can you and Taz wait for me outside? I want to talk to her alone for a minute.”

“No.”

Rolling my eyes, I grate out, “Luce. Do I need to remind you why we’re here? Why I’m here with you? It’s because of her help, so stop freaking out for a second and think about it. She wouldn’t hurt me and you two don’t look very friendly. If I have any chance of getting her to accept my help, you need to let me talk to her alone.”

“Yeah, but we don’t know if she’s here alone.”

We stare down each other for a minute before he bends over and pulls a smaller gun from inside his boot. He places it in my hands. I know how to use it now thanks to him and Griz, but I still don’t like carrying one around. Lily carries hers in her purse, but with Will, I don’t dare.

“I’ll be right by the door. You see anyone else, you call for me. You feel like somethin’s wrong, you get the hell out of here.”

“I will. Now go.” I tuck the gun away and then push him toward the door. “I’ll be fine.”

“She’s four months pregnant with your kid . . . you really gonna leave her in here alone?”

“Taz,” I hiss. “Not helping.”

As we get closer to the door, I push them both out of it and then shut it a little to at least give Ivy the sense that we’re alone.

I turn around and see that Ivy, if it’s even her, hasn’t moved from the doorway. But after a minute or so passes, she does ask, “What do you want? Your stuff?”

It’s her.

“That would be nice, but that’s not why I came looking for you. I owe you money.”

Again I’m met by silence.

“You said if I won the lottery, to repay the favor. I didn’t win the lottery, but I can pay you back. And I wanted to say thank you for helping me out when you did.”

“It was just five bucks, Red, not a kidney.”

Inwardly, I smile, remembering now her sassy personality. I didn’t realize I could miss something I didn’t necessarily like to begin with.

“Yeah, but that five bucks put me straight on the path to a better life. A good life. I met a good man and some good people. I have a home now, and a family. I have my daughter back and a baby on the way.”

More thick silence, and then she replies, “That’s real good, Red. I’m happy for you. Really. But I was just kiddin’ around when I told you to pay me back. I only said that to make you feel better about takin’ the money.”

“I know. It doesn’t change the fact that I can and want to pay you back, though.”

If I’m not mistaken, she disappears from the doorway. My heart falls and the hope filling me dwindles away. Even my shoulders lower in defeat as I exhale. But then I hear rustling. I startle as something hits the floor and slides across it. “It’s your bag,” she says. “Leave the money on the floor, if it means that much to you. I’ll get it later.”

She turns again.

“Wait!”

“What, Red? I’m growing old standin’ here.”

“I can help you. I can offer a whole lot more than five dollars.” Chancing it, I take a couple of steps forward until I see her back up a step. “My friend owns a bar and really needs a table busser. She also needs a sitter for her kids. I told her about you and she’s willing to give you a shot. My boyfriend and his friends own some businesses. If you don’t want to work for my friend, he said he’d find you another job that pays a decent wage. We also have an apartment above our garage and it’s yours—”

“People don’t help people out of the kindness of their hearts anymore, Red.”

“Not true. You helped me.”

“Not out of kindness. More out of guilt.”

“Does it matter? I still owe you. I’m offering you a chance to get yourself off the street for a little while. Maybe longer.”

“What makes you think I need your help?”

“Look where you are, Ivy? This building isn’t safe. You’re too young . . .” My voice trails off as she disappears.

I figured this would happen. I didn’t know what other way to offer her help, though. I know from our interaction at the shelter that she’s lived a hard life at such a young age, and that she doesn’t trust people in general.

“Ivy, your dad was right. It really doesn’t rain all the time. But I think . . . I think sometimes you have to accept help from other people when you really need it. I have a friend that did that for me, and I’d like to do the same for you.

“I don’t need a mother.”

“Good, because I have my hands full as it is. I could be a friend though, if you’ll let me.”

“And what about those bikers? The ones you came in with? Are you telling me there’s no strings attached to the help they’re givin’?”

“My boyfriend and his friend? No. No strings. They want to help you too, because you helped me. They won’t hurt you.”

“And I’m just supposed to believe you?”

“No, but if you’ll give us a chance, we’ll prove that what I’m saying is the truth.” I move closer and grab my bag, slinging it over my shoulder. As I turn and head toward the door, I say, “I’ll wait outside for ten minutes and let you decide. If you don’t come out by then, we’ll take off.”

I leave the dark interior and for a moment, I’m blinded by sunlight. Then Mav is there and he’s checking me over. He then pulls the bag from my shoulder, palms my face with his other hand. “How’d it go?”

I shake my head. “We’ll see. Can we wait for a little bit?”