24. Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Four

Mackenzie

“ D o you think many people will join?” Spence looks over one of the flyers Vanessa helped me make—or more like, she sat and watched, offering a suggestion occasionally, but I was just happy to have her there. She reminds me a lot of Mom when Dad died, and my heart still breaks for her, even though months have passed.

“Honestly? I have no idea. I mean, I hope they do, obviously, or I wouldn’t be doing this.” I shrug, shoving a handful of flyers in his direction. “Make yourself useful.”

Spence rolls his eyes and crosses the road to see if the tackle shop will take some flyers for their customers.

They’re advertising the new racing team I want to build, and I could pee with excitement every time I think about it. It’s not a motorcycle club, nothing like the Sons of Khaos, but more of a hobby people do, like an evening dance class or whatever normal people do after a day’s work. I’ll find events that aren’t illegal street races, or create my own, and the long-term plan is to run huge events that can be fundraisers for places like Maribel’s and be able to race every week.

Some might say I’ve chosen a selfish path, but those some can fuck themselves because I’m finally doing the thing that is going to fill my cup. I’m a great racer, not too bad at the mechanic side of things—Crow’s been helping me build on the knowledge my dad gave me—and if I can help people that aren’t cut out for the biker lifestyle still be a part of something great, then yeah, I’m on cloud nine.

“Why didn’t you just become a Son?” Kincaid is my muscle for the day as Spence and I wander around town. With Harrison Beaufort still on the loose, Aleko is taking zero risks.

“Because I don’t want to go through the whole prospect thing. One, because it’s not fun, I know what goes on, and two, because Aleko would end up killing all his brothers for ordering me around. But also, I’m the Old Lady of a Son. I get a lot more respect from them this way, with none of the responsibility.”

“Yeah, you’re pretty spot on.” Kincaid nods and Spence makes his way back with a few less flyers in his hands.

“We’ve been doing this for like, an hour. Is it time for lunch yet?” For someone that was beaten up and lost his boyfriend on Christmas day, just over a month ago, Spencer is surprisingly unfazed. The bruising on his face has gone, and he looks a lot better than he did when he collapsed in the rec room at the compound. I’ve since found out that he and Steve were on the outs anyway. Once Steve started using and all that suspicious stuff, yeah, Spence was beginning to check out. He’s still sad about it, but he’s not broken up. More pissed that he now has a cat to look after.

“If we can just give the rest of these out, then we can do lunch.” My stomach rumbles in agreement, but if they don’t have pickles I may have to riot and demand we go back to my house that I share with Aleko. We have a healthy supply of pickles and pumpkin pie, courtesy of Hoops, the fucking genius.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Mackenzie Wilson, or is it Kastoff?”

Fuck. Off.

“It’s Kastellanos. And since when did you turn into such a douche, Ryan? Was there really any need for that? You could have just, you know, walked on by in silence.” I’m blaming my extra sarcasm on the pregnancy hormones. What I really wanted to do was channel my best Dionne Warwick and sing, Walk On By , but I’m positive that would’ve been inappropriate.

“Why would I do that? You haven’t got your pitbull with you today. Just Spencer, the EMT.” Ryan rolls his eyes upward as he says Spencer’s name. “And whatever the fuck this thing is with a face full of metal and…is that…” He tilts his head and squints his eyes. “A hand tattoo over her throat?”

I don’t think, I punch. Exactly the way Kincaid has taught me. Straight forward instead of taking a big swing, and I crack Ryan across the nose.

“Don’t insult my friends. As you can see, I don’t need my pitbull to protect me. I can protect my damn self.”

“What the actual fuck, Kenz?” Ryan cups his face, and I think I made his nose bleed.

Don’t smile. Don’t smile. Don’t smile .

“You’re just as bad as those fucking bikers. You too, Spencer. Does your boss know you hang around with criminals like this?” Ryan speaks through his palm.

“At least I still have a boss, Ryan, so stand the fuck down.” Oooh, Spencer, I love it when he gets all sassy. Wait…?

“What do you mean sti—”

“I was suspended for two months for spending a night in jail,” Ryan interrupts my question, but it’s the answer I was asking for, so, there’s that. “All because of your fucking scum husband.” He goes to move toward me, and though I don’t need her, Kincaid is there, pushing herself up beside him, and I can see the subtle dig of the knife she has held up against his balls.

“Step back, Fireman. Or is it ex-fireman?” Kincaid cackles, and it’s easy to see how much she enjoys this kind of thing. Like she comes alive for this shit.

Ryan growls low in his throat, only it’s not sexy in the slightest, more like an angry dog who can’t get their own way, but he does step back. “Tell your husband to watch his back, Kenz.” Like one of the popular girls in a chick flick, Ryan turns and storms off, leaving us with words he believes are threatening.

They’re not.

“Well that was fun.”

“We have very different ideas of fun, Caidy.” Spence glares at Kincaid, who shrugs, not for the first time letting the nickname he’s given her go without a mention.

My stomach grumbles again, informing me that flyer-time is over; we can continue after we’ve eaten. I’m obeying and listening to everything my body wants, and food is the number one priority right now.

“Can we eat?” I give my best cheesy smile to my two comrades in today’s task, knowing full well I only told them a few minutes ago that we’d wait.

“Thought you’d never ask.” Spence grins in response and Kincaid rolls her eyes.

We walk into the closest diner, and that thing inside me that says I should be kind niggles at my chest when I see Emily Beaufort sitting on her own with a cup of coffee. She has texted a couple of times since Christmas Eve, just small talk things, but she’s trying.

“Hey, Emily. Do you wanna join us for some food?” She may have already eaten, but it’s polite for me to ask.

She jumps a little as I gently touch her shoulder and bend down a little more to her level, but there’s an immediate smile when she sees it’s me.

“Oh hey, Mackenzie. Yes, I’d love to. Thanks.” She doesn’t hesitate, until she realizes who the “us” meant, but it’s only brief and she quickly pulls herself back together, sitting herself beside Spencer. There’s a wary glance in Kincaid’s direction, but she covers it well enough.

“Is this place close to your offices?” Because I know for sure that it’s nowhere near her house, and she told me she’s been real busy with work when I asked if she wanted to meet up sometime.

“No, actually.” Emily huffs a light laugh. “I was meeting with a friend, but they never showed, so I was just going to finish up my coffee and head back.”

“Can we do pleasantries when we’ve ordered some food, please?” Spence grins wide, showing all his teeth, and ducks his head a little bashfully at being so upfront. It’s not his usual style, but to be fair, we have been busy and I’m hungry too.

Hamburgers, fries, some spicy chicken wings, and a strawberry milkshake later, I’ve talked the ear off Emily about my new racing club. She saw the flyers, she asked, and my excited self word vomited all over the place.

“Are sponsorships something you’d consider?”

Holy Hell, are they? Er…yes.

“Yeah, I haven’t gotten around to that yet though. I’m hoping to get a few members first, and sponsorships will be for when we need uniforms and things to begin with.” I’ve done my research, and I plan to walk before I run with this whole thing. I’ve got the next six months, at least, to get this right.

“Count me in then. Whenever you’re ready, just give me a call. We could talk about it a little more on Sunday if you wanted to meet for lunch?”

“Spence?” As my basically silent non-racing partner in crime with this whole thing, he should be there too if we’re going to talk business. I can easily get carried away, so he’s like the thing that brings me back down to Earth. Aleko is more on my level of act first, think later…we all need a Spencer in our lives.

“I’m at work Sunday, eight till eight. You remember the drill.” And I surprisingly don’t miss it. I can openly admit, the hours sucked.

A shrill ringing starts, then there’s a vibrating at the foot of the table and Emily bends down, grabbing her cell from her bag. She looks at the screen before quickly holding it to her chest.

“Sorry, I need to go. It’s one of my clients and I just remembered I’m late to a meeting.” Picking her bag and dropping some cash on the table, Emily answers the call. “Hello? Yes, can you give me a few minutes?” Holding the phone to her chest again, she looks to me. “I’ll text you about Sunday.” She finger-waves and leaves the diner.

“Thank fuck for that. I don’t like her.” Kincaid, who has been silently glaring daggers at Emily, finally speaks.

“Yeah, that was obvious. I think your death-stare helped.” Spencer laughs as she turns that stare on him. “Oh no, she got me.” He dramatically clasps his hands against his chest.

“Fuck off, Holt.” Kincaid flips him off, but she’s smirking.

“Since when did you two get to last name status?” Spencer has had a nickname for her for ages, but it’s the first time she’s used his last name, and I’m curious.

“Since I watched her do karaoke in the rec room on New Year’s.” They both share a look that says a million things, and I know none of them.

“That doesn’t explain anything.” I pull out some cash, placing it on the tray for our server with everyone else’s.

“And it probably never will.” Spence laughs at the little inside joke, which I now want to know more than ever, so I’m gonna play it cool.

“Fine. I didn’t wanna know anyway.”

“Yeah, okay, Mac. Let’s go deliver the rest of these flyers.”