NYC present day.

Ivy walked close enough to feel Lax's heat as she traced the swastika tattoo's shape on his chest. A shiver ran through him. She moved to the lower ink, the single lined upside down cross beneath his diaphragm.

He traced it too, sliding his finger over hers. He felt his groin tighten as she let her palm settle on the space just above his navel. He took it as a sign that she still felt their physical attraction. He hadn't come here for this...he hadn't. But just as in Georgia his pain and turmoil seemed so easily healed by connecting with her; kissing her, fucking her. She was the sexiest woman he'd ever come across. An almost fatal physical pull came over him as if it were two years ago and they were hiding, sneaking around in Surville.

"Jesus Christ," Ivy said.

"Mmmh..." Lax pulled her hand up to his mouth. "What?"

"Jesus Christ. I think that's what I'm gonna cover that swastika with." She pulled her hand away.

Lax sensed her distance.

She felt his hot breath on her ear and smelled his spicy, clean scent. Ivy knew what he was doing. The attraction was still there and she felt like it was the first time she met him all over again, trying to fight it, but her body knowing it was supposed to answer his. Her body worked to silence her mind.

His lips moved so perfectly against hers, she would swear an oath his lips were made just for her. He slipped his tongue in gently.

She ran her hands up over his solid abs. He groaned softly.

His mouth left her lips and moved to her cheeks, then to her neck landing on her shoulder. She ran her fingernails across his scalp and pulled him closer. She wanted him lower, but then again she wasn't ready. Not yet anyway.

When he swept his thumb across her cheek to her jaw line, she pulled back. He looked confused.

"Notice anything different? About my face?" Ivy asked, her heart beating fast.

He noticed she wore more makeup than she used to, but he figured it was just living in the city being on television.

"I was in the trauma unit for seven action-packed, fun-filled hours, so they could put me back together. I remember staring at the ceiling in shock, but I didn't cry once, cause I'm one tough bitch." She smiled half-heartedly. "If you look close you can see the gashes under my eye. The surgeon said a fraction of a hair closer to my eye, I might have lost it. I'm a lucky, lucky girl. It took seven surgeries to put this side of my face back together. Lucky seven. " She said matter of factly.

Lax remained silent a pained look on his face.

"Lucky girl."

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .

Georgia

"Ivy Lee Pierce! What in blazes happened to you?"

Shit, daddy. She gulped down her coffee and was just about out the back door when Harlan entered the kitchen.

Her father saw the reddish-purple bruises marring her neck. "Daddy, I'm fine. Don't be worrying yourself.'

"Someone did that to you. Those look like hand prints! Who? Are you?... is anything...let's go see Carl." He said referring to Sheriff Daggett.

"Daddy no."

"Ivy..."

"It was Doug okay?"

"Wilson? One of Gall's boys? But why? What are you even doing around them?"

"Look daddy I'm fine. It was a stupid misunderstanding. You know Doug is crazy. Always has been with his hair-trigger temper. I got in an argument with him and he just went nuts. I'm fine and I just wanna forget it."

"No, we need to tell Carl about this.'

"Why? Daddy you know he won't do anything. He can't. I know he's your friend and I know Sheriff Daggett means well but he's wrapped around Gall's little finger too. You know it'll stir up trouble and make everything worse."

Harlan stood up a bit straighter and began "First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out. Because I was not a Socialist. Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out. Because I was not a Trade Unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out Because I was not a Jew." He paused for emphasis. " Then they came for me-and there was no one left to speak for me."

How many times had she heard that poem by Martin Niemöller.

Daddy I know...I..I'm...not being a coward. You also need to know when to pick your battles. This is not worth it. Remember last time? They tried to burn down the house. The garage is still a scorched mess of lumber. Daddy, I need to handle some stuff okay. Trust me. Just trust me. I am careful. I love you." She stood on tiptoe and kissed her dad's cheek. "Everything will be fine."

Harlan looked at his daughter's marked neck then down at the floor. "All right." He said quietly. "But you steer clear of them Ivy. You know better."

You know better. She sure as hell did. By the way daddy, I had sex with a Neo-Nazi. He's an Aryan white supremacist. You raised me to be tolerant and believe in equality. You played me the speeches of Malcolm X and Martin Luther King. I read books by bell hooks, Toni Morrison, Sojourner Truth and Marcus Garvey! You marched and protested in the Civil rights movement. You have friends who were in a chapter of the Black Panther Party! So, there's no way in hell that I should've fucked Vic Bishop.

"Ivy? Ivy did you hear me?"

"What?"

"I think you should have that looked at by Dr. Holden."

"Daddy I'm Fine. It's not like when I was a teenager. This is not starting again. I promise."

Ivy shook her head dismissively but as she passed the mirror in the hallway she glimpsed the deep bluish purple streaks around her throat where Doug had squeezed and used her neck to hold her up off the ground.

She called the shop to let them know she wouldn't be in. Jesse rescheduled her two appointments.

She lay on her bed feeling pain in her neck from her attack and a sore sting between her legs from the sex she'd had the night before. She hadn't felt so depressed in years. The loneliness and sense of failure began to creep from her belly through her chest and settled in her mind. Where am I going? Back here in a nowhere town. She missed New York. She was doing well in school had gotten praise and notoriety in the student art shows. Now she was laying on her bed in her childhood bedroom staring the ceiling feeling despondent at everything. Everything except the thought of Vic. Vic made her feel secure, less alone and validated. She rolled over and grabbed her purse from the floor and pulled out the spiral notebook. It had to be his. But what did it mean? Was he in on a hit of an FBI agent? Or was he not who he said he was?

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Late the next morning Lax finished working the breakfast shift at the diner and started walking. He felt hollow and the empty feeling lead him to his destination. He looked up at the door of Colby's Tattoo shop.

He asked, "Is Ivy here?" As the bell on the door jingled behind him.

The older guy behind the counter looked up from the paperwork he was studying and gave Lax a long once over, holding a toothpick steady between his teeth. His mustache and scruffy brown goatee sported a bit of gray as did his long hair pulled back into a braid. "No, she's not working today," Oliver answered.

"Okay. When will she be in?"

"Dunno. By the way, I don't allow your kind in here so I'd get your ass out the door as quick as you can man. And I catch you bothering Ivy in any way, you'll be dealing with me."

Lax just nodded not in the mood to fight. Damn, Ivy was beloved and protected around here. He could see why. He left without any argument.

"Hey," Lax called to Jesse who jumped the curb on his skateboard landing with a hard crack and pulling to a stop in front of the shop.

"What?"

"Do you know Ivy's address?"

"Why?"

"I need to talk to her."

Jesse gave him a long hard look. "Would she wanna see you?"

"Yeah, man.'

"23 Peach St. Follow Main St past the hardware store and it's the third left. You'll see it."

"Man, can I say something?"

Lax shrugged.

"You are a weird dude. Can't figure you out.'

"Better not try, wouldn't be good for you. But hey thanks for this.'

Jesse nodded.

... ... ... .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

Harlan Pierce thought it strange to hear his doorbell ring out before noon. Or ring out at all for that matter. Any visitors he usually got just barged right in calling his name. He answered the door an open book in one hand a folded newspaper in the other. He barely looked up from the pages of the book.

""Yes?'

"Is Ivy here?" Lax looked up and swore the actor Hal Holbrook playing Mark Twain had answered the door. Lax noticed her car in the driveway. She must be home.

"And you are...'

"A friend.'

"You didn't let me finish, son. And you are one of Gall's associates."

Lax saw the man glance at the bolts on his bicep. "Yes, sir."

"Then I don't think you can be much of a friend to my daughter. "

"I need to speak with her.'

"No, I don't think you do. "

"Can you tell her I came by?"

... ... ... ... .. .. .. .. .

Over the next couple of days, Lax tried a new personal mantra. I am not in love with her. I am not in love with her. It was just sex, just like every other time and every other woman. It wasn't working and no matter how much he fought, he still thought of her. He remembered how she felt, how she tasted, how her body responded to his as he fucked her. He couldn't get hard unless he thought of their night together, but he tried not to because it hurt too much when his next thought was about how he had to walk out on her. They couldn't be together he never should have gotten close to her. He deserved that pain and frustration He lay back on his bed thinking about Ivy. One minute she's hot and confident and sexy as hell, then sometimes she looks like a scared little rabbit, that can't get away fast enough. But they'd reached a turning point, right? It was the best sex he'd ever had. He swore he could still feel her tight pussy clamp down on him when she came. He could still hear those little whimpers when he hit that one spot. Fuck, those whimpers could drive him to his knees.

He was planning on making himself scarce that night at the warehouse. She was coming by to tattoo. Over the past few days any attempt he'd made to see her had been thwarted so he was trying to take it as a sign.

... ...

She had debated long and hard about blowing off Gall's tattoo party, but in the end Ivy knew if she wanted to keep her father out of the hat, meaning off of the AB's murder list, she truly had no choice. She walked in a little after nine pm, wearing her armor. Black Lip Service junkie fit jeans, 14 hole Doc Marten boots an oversized Discharge band t-shirt and her leather motorcycle jacket. Her eyes were rimmed heavily in Kohl. She wanted to be dark as a contrast to the bleached blond and light skin birds and Aryan wives in attendance, who looked down on her with disdain. She'd gone to high school with these girls. The cheerleader Lacy, the Avril Lavigne obsessed Kayla ...they all fell in with Gall's boys and swore to protect the white race and bear white children. Married to Moose and Bubba saddled with four kids each, only getting out once in a while to a KKK rally or an AB tattoo party. Behind her, she wheeled her travel case full of her tattoo equipment. She was met by the raucous angry music of the live band playing on the makeshift stage in the warehouse a local Hammerskin Nation band. God they were horrible.

She had just finished setting up her equipment on a table in the corner under a hanging light bulb when she saw Vic. He was in the corner talking to some blond chelsea'd boot girl. Ivy turned her attention back to her set up. The guys were watching the band. She had a little time before she had to start. She was at the keg filling her red plastic cup with beer when his husky voice assaulted her from behind.

"Hey." Lax couldn't stay away from her.

She turned.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Lax was concerned at seeing her neck. He drew in a long steadying breath. "You okay Ivy?"

"I'm fine. It's over." He knew she was referring to them which was Doug's reason for tracking her.

"Doug, he saw us the other night. Okay? So really you better get away from me. It's not looking good right now you and me taking,"

"Skinhead cunt," He grumbled, but his heart wasn't in it. His face showed anger, but he also was chewing the knuckle of his right thumb which he only did when he was really stressed. "It's my fault. I'm sorry."

She didn't know what to say. She thought about the notebook and wanted to bring it up but wasn't sure how. She knew that whatever it was to Vic it made a relationship with him even more dangerous. She felt awkward, not wanting to make things worse but not really knowing how to making anything better.

Lax put his hand on the small of her back and pushed her ahead of him. She knew she should protest, but his hand on her back made her weak in the knees.

They had to edge through the crowd to get to the door, but once inside the back area it was empty and the sound of the crowd was shut off. She followed Lax down the narrow corridors to the back door.

"Ivy I need to talk to you," He said as he closed the door behind him and leaned against it. She stood looking past him at the scattered stars in the night sky.

His voice sounded strained. "Listen, it's not right, look at you, that's bad, your neck is fucked up."

"Forget it, he was just pissed because he saw me with you. I don't want to be the cause of a fight."

"He had his hands all over you. I 'm really angry, and ... "

"I know," She cut in. "But I don't care, he's just a jerk and not worth starting a fight over." She knew she couldn't ask him about the notebook but deep down she knew it was more important now that he never gets in a conflict with Doug or any of the guys.

"Listen to me, Ivy," Lax demanded. He took a step forward and rested one hand on her shoulder. Her eyes were level with his collar-bone and she had to look up to see his face. He was looking at her with a slightly glazed expression, still biting his knuckle. She could feel his body trembling. "Ivy it's not that."

She blushed and turned her head, but Lax kept talking.

"I'm so pissed, I want to hurt him bad. It's because... because I don't want anyone to touch you. Anyone but me."

He drew a deep breath and put his hand on her chin to turn her face back toward him. When he spoke again, his voice was very soft and there was a note of pleading in it. "Ivy, promise me you won't let anyone else touch you. The thought of it..."

Her eyes were sad and filled with longing. "Vic we can't you know we can't."

"You want to, though right?"

"Yes... you know I do. It's too dangerous." She said hooking her fingers inside his waistband and pulling him toward her.

She licked her lips nervously as Lax's eyes narrowed and he focused on her movement. He lowered his head and pressed his mouth against hers, hard. His lips were slightly parted and she whimpered when she felt his warm, scratchy mouth pressing down onto hers, she could feel the weight of his body behind that kiss.

She moaned against Lax's mouth and raised her hands wrapping her arms around his neck and tangling her fingers in his slick hair.

Lax hummed low in his throat and broke the kiss to whisper against her lips, "So sexy Ivy."

"Why do you have to feel like this...feel so right." She sighed. Her insides glowed. She could feel his erection growing and pushing against her thigh.

"Touch me, Ivy."

She nodded her head quickly, feeling her mouth go dry in excitement and nervousness. She pressed her palm against his bulge and massaged him making him push hard into her hand, aching for comfort.

His lips fit so perfectly against hers and let her be the aggressor this time. If she was honest, it was hot that he wasn't touching her yet, but she still felt like he was in complete control of the kiss. Yet, she was the one taking what she wanted. He always made her feel she was the one who started things.

He spun her back to the side of the building. He lowered his head and took her earlobe between his teeth. The small nip of pain shot straight between her legs. She gave what she hoped was a silent gasp. He took his hand and slid it under her shirt to cup her breast. He couldn't tell because of her bra, but her nipples were at painfully hard peaks. She arched slightly into his hand and was rewarded with a hard squeeze. His mouth latched onto her neck. He nipped and suckled the pulse below her ear down to her shoulder. He moved his hand down her stomach to her waistband. One of his fingers traced the skin just underneath it.

His hand moved lower still. His finger swiped over her sex. Her jeans still covered it, but she felt the heat of his hand when he cupped her and started rubbing her through her jeans with his palm. She started rolling her hips in time with his movements.

She turned her face to him and bit his shoulder to stifle her groans. She felt her orgasm building. Vic was going to make her come for him without ever touching her skin to skin.

She grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and clamped her teeth harder on his shoulder. His breath was getting quicker and heavier. Everything started to coil in that one place between her legs. Just a little more.

"Come for me, Ivy" she heard Vic whisper in her ear. That was all she needed. The coils tightened and then snapped in a sweet release that she felt all the way to her hair. When she finally regained the ability to think, she released his shirt and took her teeth off of his shoulder. She kissed the spot she had bitten, wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest. She needed a minute to breathe him in and sooth herself. He seemed to understand, as usual where her needs were concerned because he lightly ran his fingers up and down her spine. He kissed her temple, the top of her head and arm where it wrapped around his neck.

"Is there anywhere we can go?" Ivy asked huskily, full of need.