4: Into the Abyss

Sarah's pov

The Vulture's Nest squatted on the corner of Fifth and Industrial like a predator waiting for prey. The building was old brick with blacked out windows and a neon sign that flickered between red and dead. Motorcycles lined the sidewalk in front, chrome gleaming under the streetlights despite the overcast October evening.

I sat in my car across the street for ten minutes, watching people go in and out. Most were men wearing leather vests with various club patches. Some I recognized from police files. Others were new faces but they all had the same hard look that came from living outside the law.

This was it. Once I walked through those doors, there was no going back. Sarah Walsh would be buried completely and only Ivy Blake would remain until I found out who killed Tommy.

I checked my appearance one more time in the rearview mirror. Blonde hair teased and sprayed into submission. Dark eyeliner that made my green eyes look bigger and more dangerous. Red lipstick that said I wasn't afraid of attention. The dragon tattoo on my forearm was visible below the sleeve of my leather jacket.

I looked like Ivy Blake. Now I had to be her.

The smell hit me first when I opened the door. Cigarettes, beer, leather, and something else underneath it all. Something wild and dangerous that made the hair on my arms stand up. The bar was dimly lit with low hanging lights over pool tables and booths along the walls.

Music played from speakers mounted in the corners but it was turned low enough that conversations could happen without shouting. Classic rock mixed with some country, the kind of playlist that wouldn't offend anyone but wouldn't excite them either.

Men outnumbered women about four to one. The women present looked comfortable in this environment, dressed in leather and denim like they belonged. Some wore club patches that marked them as property of specific members. Old ladies, they called them in the motorcycle world, though some looked younger than me.

I walked to the bar trying to project confidence I didn't feel. The bartender was a woman in her forties with bleached hair and arms covered in tattoos. She wore a tight black tank top and moved with the efficiency of someone who'd been doing this job for years.

"What can I get you?" she asked when I reached the bar.

"Beer. Whatever's cheap."

She pulled a bottle from the cooler and popped the cap. "Three fifty."

I paid and took a sip, using the moment to scan the room more carefully. Most people were focused on their own conversations or the pool games, but I could feel eyes on me. New faces always got attention in places like this.

Two men at a corner table were discussing something in low voices while occasionally glancing toward the back of the bar. Their patches identified them as Steel Vultures, which meant they were exactly who I needed to get close to.

"You new in town?" the bartender asked when business slowed down.

"Just got here yesterday. Heard you might be hiring."

She looked me up and down, taking in the tattoos and leather. "You have bar experience?"

"Three years in Portland. Place called the Iron Horse. Know how to handle myself when customers get out of line."

"That's important here. Some of these boys forget their manners when they've been drinking."

"I don't take crap from anybody, doesn't matter how big they think they are."

She smiled for the first time since I'd walked in. "Name's Betty. I've been running this bar for the owner for two years now. Pay's decent and tips can be good if you know how to work the crowd."

"Ivy Blake," I said, extending my hand. "When can I start?"

"Let me talk to the boss first. He likes to meet new hires personally."

Betty walked toward the back of the bar where a hallway led to what looked like private offices. I watched her go while trying to appear casual, but inside my heart was racing. This was happening faster than I'd expected. In a few minutes I might be face to face with someone high up in the Steel Vultures organization.

I finished my beer and ordered another, using the time to study the layout of the building. Two exits that I could see, one front door and one through the kitchen. Security cameras in three corners but they looked old and might not be working. The back hallway probably led to offices and maybe a rear exit.

"Ivy Blake."

The voice came from behind me, deep and commanding with an accent I couldn't place. I turned around and found myself looking at a man who radiated authority even in casual clothes. He was maybe six feet tall with dark hair that had silver at the temples and gray eyes that seemed to see everything.

"You the owner?" I asked.

"I'm Cain Volkov. I run operations here for the club. Betty says you're looking for work."

Cain Volkov. I knew that name from police files. President of the Steel Vultures MC, suspected in multiple murders and drug trafficking operations but never convicted of anything. The man who might have ordered Tommy's death.

"That's right. I can start tonight if you need the help."

He studied my face for a long moment like he was trying to read something there. "Where you from originally?"

"Portland. Got tired of the rain and decided to try somewhere new."

"What brought you to our town specifically?"

I'd practiced this answer but delivering it to Cain Volkov felt different than talking to my reflection. This man was dangerous and if he suspected I was lying, things could go bad quickly.

"Heard there was work here for people who weren't afraid of getting their hands dirty. I don't mind a rough crowd as long as they pay their tabs and tip decent."

Cain nodded slowly. "We'll try you out for a few shifts, see how you handle things. Betty will show you the ropes but remember this is our place. Our rules. You follow them and we'll get along fine."

"What happens if I don't follow them?"

His smile was cold. "Let's hope we don't have to find out."

Betty returned with an apron and order pad. "You can start tonight. Thursday through Sunday to begin with, might add more shifts if you work out."

I tied the apron around my waist and moved behind the bar, trying to look like I belonged there. The first few customers were easy, just beer and simple mixed drinks. But I could feel eyes watching me from different parts of the room.

That's when I saw them.

Three men sitting at a table near the back wall, all wearing Steel Vultures patches. But these weren't ordinary club members. Everything about them screamed leadership and power. They sat like they owned not just the table but the entire building and everyone in it.

The one in the middle had to be Cain Volkov, the man who'd just hired me. To his left sat someone with platinum blonde hair and blue eyes that missed nothing. The third man was bigger than the other two with black hair and the kind of quiet intensity that made people nervous.

All three were looking directly at me.

Not casual glances like the other customers had given the new bartender. This was something else entirely. Focused attention that made my skin prickle with awareness. Like predators who'd spotted something interesting and were deciding what to do about it.

I tried to focus on the drink orders but couldn't shake the feeling that those three sets of eyes were cataloguing every move I made. When I reached for a bottle, when I smiled at a customer, when I tucked a strand of blonde hair behind my ear.

The sensation was unlike anything I'd experienced before. Not just the normal wariness that came from being undercover around dangerous people. This was deeper, more primal. Like something inside me was responding to their attention in ways I didn't understand.

My chest tightened and warmth spread through my body that had nothing to do with the temperature in the bar. My pulse quickened and I felt hyperaware of everything around me. The sounds were sharper, the smells stronger, even the lighting seemed different.

I looked up again and caught all three men still watching me. The blonde one smiled like he knew a secret. The dark haired one tilted his head slightly like he was listening to something only he could hear. And Cain Volkov's gray eyes held an intensity that made me want to look away and step closer at the same time.

Something was happening to me and I had no idea what it was. All I knew was that walking into the Vulture's Nest had awakened something inside me that had been sleeping until this moment.

Something that recognized those three men on a level deeper than conscious thought.

Something that scared me more than any undercover assignment ever had.