Spark of Vengeance: MacKenny Brothers Series Book 2: An MC/Band of Brothers Romance

by Kathleen Kelly

  Kathleen Kelly

  Spark of Vengeance

  MacKenny Brothers Book 2

  Kathleen Kelly

  Copyright © 2020 Kathleen Kelly

  All Rights Reserved

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Kathleen Kelly is in no way affiliated with any brands, songs, musicians, or artists mentioned in this book. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  All efforts have been made to ensure the correct grammar and punctuation in the book. If you do find any errors, please e-mail Kathleen Kelly: kathleenkellyauthor@gmail.com

  Thank you.

  Disclaimer: The material in this book contains graphic language and sexual content and is intended for mature audiences, ages 18 and older.

  Editing by Swish Design & Editing

  Proofreading by Swish Design & Editing

  Book design by Swish Design & Editing

  Cover design by Clarise Tan at CT Cover Creations

  Cover Image Copyright 2020

  First Edition 2020

  All Rights Reserved

  Sean MacKenny, VP in the Loyal Rebels MC.

  A soldier, a leader, a brother. A man not to be messed with by anyone.

  When Sean disobeys his older brother, who is also his president, he runs.

  He goes back to his old Marine buddy, Thomas Trent.

  Thomas Trent is a man of honor, a man to be trusted—a man who has been murdered.

  Can Sean discover why his friend is dead and, in the process, help his daughter, Beth?

  Beth Trent is strong, angry, and knows her own mind.

  Beth doesn’t need anyone helping her. Well, that’s what she tells herself.

  But Sean MacKenny is turning her world upside down.

  Can this couple overcome their pasts to create a future together?

  Spark of Vengeance is a standalone and the second book in the MacKenny Brothers Series.

  For the lovers and dreamers,

  reading this book.

  This one’s for all of you.

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Connect With Me Online

  About The Author

  The ride to my old sergeant’s house takes me the better part of a month. I feel like a coward, but I can’t face Kyle, my brother, and my president in the Loyal Rebels MC. We’ve spoken on the phone, and he asked me to come back, but I used my old sergeant as a bullshit excuse, said he needed some help on his farm. The truth is, he doesn’t even know I’m coming.

  After my disobedience, Kyle is pissed. There’s no way I was going to let the scum bag who killed my sister and hurt my brother live. The rage on his face when I blew that bastard to kingdom come isn’t something I’m going to forget in a hurry. I know I need to have a sit down with him and the rest of the Rebels but not yet. I have to get my head on straight, find my path, and then I’ll be ready to face my MC brothers and my family.

  So here I am, on the road, heading to my old Marine buddy’s place. The last I heard from Sergeant Thomas Trent, he was running cattle on his family’s ranch. We were close when we both served our country. I saved his life, and he saved mine on numerous occasions.

  I pull into the local gas station, and an older guy comes out.

  “Fill ‘er up?”

  “Sure, man. You good to do it?” I ask.

  “Yep.”

  I wait until he’s finished, and we both walk back into the gas station.

  “You know where I can find the Trent Ranch?”

  “Tom’s place?”

  “Yeah, he’s an old buddy of mine.”

  The old guy scoffs. “I doubt that. Tom’s got no friends. Not anymore, leastways. That’ll be twenty-three dollars and seventy cents.”

  I hand over three ten-dollar notes. “Keep the change. Where did you say the Trent Ranch is?”

  “I didn’t.”

  I put both hands on the counter and lean over. “Well, how about you tell me now?”

  The old guy looks me up and down. “The Trent Ranch is ten miles further down the road, take the first road on the left, then the second right, and keep going, you’ll find it. But you won’t find Tom there.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Thomas Trent is dead.”

  I rock back on one foot, shocked to my core. “Dead?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How?”

  The old guy frowns and shakes his head. “Not my place. Tom didn’t toe the line. He should have sold out, like the rest.” He moves out from behind the counter and walks to the back of the store where he loudly says, “His daughter, Beth, is looking after the place now. Not sure how she’s doing it on her own.”

  He disappears through a door and leaves me alone in the gas station.

  I shake my head at the closed door, take a jerky stick, and head to my bike. Thomas talked about Beth, a lot, his only daughter. According to Thomas, she can do just about anything a man could do.

  I’ve come all this way, I might as well pay my respects and see if she needs a hand. The picture Thomas painted of Beth was that she was plain, hard-working, and a damned fine cook. Not exactly flattering.

  Beth

  The ranch runs cattle. We have, or should I say I have, a little over five hundred acres, so not huge but enough to keep us busy and put food on the table. My last ranch hand recently quit, and here I am in the arena with a wild horse trying to get him to trust me. Horses are necessary on a ranch. Yeah, I’ve got ATVs, but there’s something about being on a horse and doing your chores. It’s all about the freedom. If you get the right animal, they’ll look after you if you look after them. I’ve got the wrong attitude to be in here with this one, though. I’m angry, and he’s picking up on it. Shaking myself, I let out all the air in my lungs and look at this beautiful chestnut boy.

  “I k
now you’re scared,” I say softly. In response, he shakes his head, and his ears flatten against his head. “Don’t be like that. I’m not going to hurt you, but I do need to break you in. You’re no good to me if I can’t ride you. I need you. In return, I’ll give you a home, food, and protect you. But buddy, you’ve gotta let me get close to you.” His ears come up, and he trots away from me. Well, at least he doesn’t look frightened anymore.

  He’s circling me, so I move to the outer side of the arena, into his path, he turns and goes the other way.

  “I think I’m going to name you, Titus. It’s a proud name, and he was a companion to Paul the Apostle. Maybe you and I can be friends? Stranger things have happened.”

  I begin to spin the lasso down low to start with and walk toward the center of the arena. I pay Titus no attention, even turn my back on him, which is dangerous for a wild horse. Slowly, I spin the lasso higher until it’s in the air and begin to walk in a circle. Releasing the lasso, it lands perfectly around Titus’ neck, and as expected, he rears up. I give him more rope and let him run around in a circle.

  I whisper to him, “It’s okay, Titus. You’re safe.”

  Titus changes course and comes right at me. I chuckle and move out of his way, but he skids to a stop and rears up. I pull down on the rope, hard. Titus stops and looks at me.

  “Okay, Titus, I get it. You don’t like the rope, but this is a first step, the first of many.” I keep my voice soft and take a step toward him.

  He throws his head but doesn’t try to run or rear up.

  Tentatively, I hold out my hand and place it on his nose. “Good boy. I’m going to take this off you now, and you’re not going to hurt me, are you?”

  Reaching up, I grab the rope and pull it over his head, then as soon as he’s free, he rears up, knocking me to the ground. I roll away from him as hooves come down far too close to my body. The sound of a motorbike pierces the air, and then I hear a horn and yelling as I’m trying to put distance between Titus and me. The distraction gains his attention, and he gallops away from me. I get to my feet and head for the gate.

  “Are you okay?” yells a biker from the other side of the arena.

  “Fine!”

  But the truth is I’m not.

  I shouldn’t be doing this alone, and if Titus had kicked me, I would have been in serious trouble. There’s no one out here with me, and my neighbors have all but sold out to Myles Graham and his conglomerate.

  I keep walking toward the man who is now jogging toward me. He’s wearing a leather jacket, black tee, jeans, and boots. If he’s here for the job, he’s certainly not dressed for it.

  When he’s within talking distance, I dust my hands on my ass and thrust out my hand. “Beth Trent. You don’t look like a rancher.”

  He grasps my hand, and a tingle goes up my arm. “Sean MacKenny, and I’m not.”

  I pull my hand out of his grip and wipe it on my jeans like he’s got the plague. “You with Graham? You tell that man I said, no! Got it! I’m not selling. This ranch has been in my family for generations, and you ain’t running me off.” I step off past him and head for the house. It’s been a long day, and I need a hot shower and a meal.

  I’m at the top of the porch steps when he yells, “Wait! I don’t know who Graham is. I’m a friend of your dad’s, Thomas Trent. I came to see him, but the old guy at the gas station said he’s dead?”

  I turn, and he’s at the bottom of the stairs. With a shake of my head, I let out a breath, then go back down the stairs until we are the same height. “I’m so sorry. It’s been a rough few months. My last ranch hand quit, and I’ve been advertising for someone for ages, not that I can pay much…” I trail off and hold out my hand again. “Let’s try this again. I’m Beth Trent, and you are?”

  “Sean MacKenny. Your dad was my sergeant in the Marines. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Laughter bubbles up out of me. I can’t stop it, and I buckle over holding my stomach. Soon the laughter turns to tears and sobbing as I remember the man my father was—strong, tall, tough, and my rock. This man, who claims to know him engulfs me, picks me up and takes me inside the house. He sits on the leather sofa with me in his lap. I cry until I can’t cry anymore, until I’m exhausted. The loss of my father, trying to run the ranch, and doing all of it on my own has been a burden that I’ve had to face alone. I had no idea how much I relied on my dad and how much work he did around the property.

  “You okay?” whispers the man whose name I’ve forgotten.

  “Shit. I’m sorry.” I try to get off him, but he holds on tight.

  “How long has Thomas been dead?”

  Looking him in the eyes, I see only compassion there. “Six months. I’m sorry you weren’t notified. None of his Marine buddies came to the funeral. I guess I should have realized you all weren’t told.”

  I slide off his lap, and this time, he doesn’t try to hold on.

  “No, I didn’t know, and I don’t think the others do either. No one called me. Are you here alone? No workers?”

  I plaster on a fake smile. “Not at the moment. We are hiring, though, if you’re interested?”

  “We?”

  “Me,” I reply, dejectedly.

  “You,” he states and nods. “Beth, I could use a meal and bed. I’ve been on the road for a while. Your dad had a way of sorting my shit out better than anyone I know. I was coming here to clear my head, but I don’t want to impose. I’ll work hard if you’ll have me?”

  I stand, and he does too. I can tell he’s strong. He did carry me up the stairs and into the house, but he’s no rancher. I’ve also had no one apply for the job, and now that it’s only me, I’m not sure I can afford to be picky.

  “Can I trust you?”

  He straightens up and squares his shoulders. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I want your word you won’t steal from me or screw me over.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I swear I won’t steal from you or screw you over.”

  “I own plenty of guns… so if you’re lying, I’ll shoot your ass. We clear?”

  “As crystal, ma’am!”

  I grin at him. “I’m going to go clean up. There’s a spare room down the hallway. The upstairs is off-limits, got it?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replies with a grin.

  I reach out and touch his arm. “It’s Beth, not ma’am. You make me feel old when you say that.”

  “Beth. Okay, Beth, and thank you.”

  I head for the stairs and say over my shoulder, “Don’t thank me yet. There’s a lot of work to do, and you’ve never tasted my cooking.”

  “You’re going to cook for me?”

  “Yeah, well, I can’t afford to pay you, so you get a room and food in exchange for work. How does that sound?”

  “Yeah. Is there a bathroom down here?”

  Turning around, I look down at him from the top of the stairs. He’s followed me halfway up, and I didn’t realize.

  I point down the hallway. “It’s down there, next to the bedroom. There are fresh sheets on the bed. Towels in the bathroom. Make yourself at home.”

  Sean

  Beth continues up the stairs, and I wait until I hear the shower going before heading out to my bike and grabbing my gear. Thomas Trent lied about his daughter. She’s no tomboy. Beth has curves, black wavy hair, and the fullest set of lips I’ve ever seen.

  When she began laughing, then dissolved into tears, I didn’t know what to do. Scooping her up and comforting her came naturally like I’ve done it for years. Maybe it’s the connection to her dad, although the boner I’m sporting right now wouldn’t go down well with Thomas.

  Beth is not plain.

  Stepping back into the house, I open the first door on the left—it’s the bedroom. I put my gear on the bed, take off my jacket, and hang it on the hook on the back of the door. Next, I unpack my few belongings, all of which need a wash.

  Going back out into the hallway, I open the door next to mine and find the bathroom. It ha
s a shower, a toilet, and a vanity, all basic but it’s clean, and there are fresh towels rolled up on a shelf in the corner. I strip off, turn on the water, and let it run over me. It’s been ages since I’ve felt clean. I lather myself in the Irish Spring soap, even using it to wash my hair. When I’m done, I towel off and wrap it around my waist. As I walk back into my room, I find Beth in there wearing a short red dress, barefoot, and looking through my stuff.

  “Find anything?” I ask.

  “Oh, shoot! I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t be in here. You see, it just occurred to me I don’t know you. I’ve let you into my home, and well… I don’t know you.”

  I chuckle and nod. “Yeah, that’s fair. Your dad never mentioned me?” Beth shakes her head. “If you look in the book you’ve got in your hand, you’ll find a picture of our unit.”

  Beth flicks the pages until she comes to the image. She puts the book on the bed and moves to the window for better light, then a small smile plays on her lips.

  I move forward and point at the different men. “That’s Thomas, me, the big guy there is Buck. That’s Harry, Scope, and Steve.”

  “You were close? And why Scope?”

  Looking into her green eyes, I smile and nod. “Scope was a hell of a sniper, hence the name. Your dad and I went through a lot together. He saved my life more than once and was a good man.”

  Beth smiles and looks at my chest. “Oh shit! You need to get dressed. Sorry. Leaving now.” She hightails it to the door. Beth stops when she reaches it, turns around, and thrusts the photograph at me. “Sorry.”

  This time her eyes are riveted to my feet.

  “Ahh, Beth?”

  Slowly, she raises her eyes to mine, and I take the picture. “Yeah?”

  “I’ve been riding for a while, and my clothes all need a wash. Could I please use your washing machine?”

  “Oh! Yes, yes, of course. Just give them to me, and I’ll throw them in.”