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

by Kathleen Kelly

  “You have a car… give me the keys.” Tamara shakes her head. “Look, lady, give me the keys to your car, and I won’t tell the Loyal Rebels MC what you’ve done.” I close the gap between us and move into her personal space. “You’d better hope my friend is still alive.” I poke her in the chest. “If he isn’t, not only will your car be toast, but so will you.”

  Tamara reaches into her uniform pocket and, with shaking hands, gives me the keys to her car. Tears well in her eyes, but I don’t care. I grin at her maniacally and go outside. I’ve never in my life threatened someone. Inside, my stomach is doing somersaults. Puffing out my cheeks, I let loose the breath I didn’t know I was holding, then hit the unlock button on Tamara’s key fob. A little white Honda to my left flashes, and I slide in. I’m sitting there wondering what the hell to do when I see the door to the gun shop open.

  I need a weapon.

  The burner phone is in my hand, so I call Sean, and it rings out. There’s only one other number in it, and with shaking hands, I hit dial.

  “Yeah?”

  “Kyle?”

  “Beth? What’s up?”

  “Sean got a call… he went in alone.”

  “Fucking hell!” Kyle bellows. “How long has he been gone?”

  “He was supposed to call me…” I look at my watch, “… thirty minutes ago.”

  “We’re headed back.”

  “There’s more.”

  “Tell me,” replies Kyle in an eerily quiet voice.

  “I don’t think it was Scope. I think it’s someone else.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “The waitress, Tamara, told me she got paid to let some guy know if any of the Loyal Rebels were in town.”

  “Fuck.”

  “I’m going to find him.”

  “No, you’re fucking not. You’re going to stay in the motel, and we’ll be there soon.”

  I laugh nervously. “Can’t do that, Kyle. He could be dead by then. Hell, he could be dead now.”

  “All the more reason to stay put.”

  “He would come for me.”

  I hear Kyle’s intake of breath. “Yeah, he would. Send me the address where he was headed…” he pauses. “Don’t get dead, country girl.”

  I hang up the phone, start the car and drive the short distance to the gun store. I have a license to carry a concealed weapon, but I’m thinking something long-distance—a rifle. In this state, I don’t need a permit to buy one.

  I open the door to the store, and the clerk behind the desk greets me warmly.

  “Good afternoon, ma’am, back again? How can we help you today?”

  “I need a rifle.”

  “Sure, any particular one?”

  “A 243 Savage, if you have it?”

  “Secondhand okay? Or new?”

  “New.”

  He grins, exposing a mouth full of missing teeth. It makes me wonder if there’s something in the water out here. He unlocks a display case behind him pulling down a rifle. “She’s a beauty.”

  “Mind if I look her over?”

  “Be my guest.”

  The bolt slides easily, and she appears to be nice and straight.

  “How much?”

  “You need ammo or a scope?”

  “Yep.”

  He has his lips firmly closed, one arm across his body while he taps his lips with the other hand. Then he stares up at the ceiling as though he’s thinking, and I’m sure he’s done this a million times before, it’s the same act from this morning.

  “How’s eight hundred sound?”

  I shake my head. “Four hundred, including a box of ammo and the scope.”

  “Six hundred including ammunition.”

  “Four hundred.”

  “Six,” he repeats more firmly this time.

  I put the rifle on the counter, place my hands on my hips, and stare at the floor, then I swiftly lock eyes with him, shake my head and offer, “Five hundred.”

  “Deal.”

  He holds out his hand, and I grasp it in mine and shake, both of us now happy. He probably screwed me on the deal, but I paid what I wanted to.

  With my new Savage rifle, I head for the Honda. I figure I’m going to have to park a fair distance from where Scope lives and hike in.

  Sean will be angry, but after what he told me about his family issues and what he did to avenge them, he’ll eventually understand.

  If I hadn’t known about the mile marker, I would have driven past the secluded driveway. I kill the engine, open the door, and listen. I can’t hear a damn thing, only the wind as it blows through the trees.

  Hopping out of the Honda, I survey my surroundings which are thickly wooded. A man could be hiding ten feet in front of me, and I probably wouldn’t notice him until he wanted me to.

  Grabbing the rifle, I load it and stuff the box of ammunition into my jacket pocket. The walk up to Norman ‘Scope’ Brittle’s shack is a steep incline. I’m grateful I am wearing boots, and with determination, I begin the long hike. It’s slow going, watching where I step, and that’s when I hear the unmistakable sound of a rifle shot piercing the air.

  I drop down on one knee, pull the rifle up, and listen. No bullets buzz past me. Another shot sounds off, and I realize it’s ahead of me. Standing, I double-time it up the hill, continually scanning for any signs of activity. On this path, I stand out like a big red target, but hopefully, whoever is shooting is preoccupied with his prey.

  I send up a prayer to the almighty asking Him to make sure his prey isn’t Sean.

  Sean

  I’m fucking pinned down. He has the high ground, and if I make a run for it, I’m as good dead. On my stomach, I crawl a little to my left and risk a peek above the brush. A bullet whizzes past me, so I quickly lie flat as two more hit the tree behind me.

  Fuck it all to hell.

  Never did I ever think I’d go out like this, not here on US soil. I figured one day, a car or a truck would end me on my Harley. I shimmy out of my cut while trying to stay as flat as possible. Crawling further along, I find a stick which I can use to hold up my cut and maybe get a better idea of where he’s exactly positioned on the ridge above.

  I’ve managed to keep hidden as he fires the odd shot in my direction. The fucking rifle I had is on the ground halfway up the hill. I lost it in my scramble to get to safety.

  The rotting log I’m hiding behind isn’t much protection against a high-powered rifle. And as if the fucker can read my thoughts, he starts firing into it. My tormentor is shooting into the opposite end of the log, and as the bullets pierce the wood, chunks of it fly into the air. He’s trying to flush me out, and as he gets closer to me with each round, I begin to panic.

  But that’s what he wants me to do.

  Either I stay put and get shot, or I stand and run.

  If I hold my jacket up now, he’ll know exactly where I am.

  At the moment, he’s leaving about a foot between each shot. Even if it’s not a kill shot, I’ll still be fucked.

  “Sean!”

  I freeze it’s Beth.

  My Beth.

  “Sean!” screams Beth.

  The bullets stop hitting the log immediately.

  Does he have his scope locked on her?

  Goddammit! I can’t risk her getting hurt.

  “Beth! Wherever you are, get down. Now!”

  There’s no answer, and I have no choice, I have to stand and expose myself. If I can get up the ridge, I have a chance. I poke my head up quickly, but nothing happens. I crawl toward the end of the log, and a cottonmouth snake slithers past me. With a shake of my head, I sprint toward the tree line knowing if I can make it to the ridge, I’ll be okay.

  I hear the shot, I swerve to the side, but searing pain creases across my temple, and I drop to the ground. There’s no damn cover here. I’m playing possum and hoping he won’t put one in me for good measure.

  Blood pours down my face, stinging my eyes as it enters them. I’m too scared to r
each up and touch it, lest I find my skull hanging open. I ran a mission once out of South America, and I watched a guy have the back of his head blown off only he hadn’t realized what happened. All he knew was his head was burning, and he thought he was on fire, so he picked up a handful of mud and put it over the wound. Amazingly he lived. The field doctor said he saved himself by doing what he did.

  Another shot rings out, pulling me out of my reminiscing, and I brace myself for the impact.

  I wait for the bullet.

  The bullet which never comes.

  Beth.

  He’s after Beth.

  Not caring whether I live or die now, I stand and charge up the ridge. My vision in one eye is blurred from the blood, but I keep running until I’m on high ground.

  There’s a body on the ground, and I keep running toward it.

  Please, God, don’t let this be my Beth.

  Beth

  Sean bursts up out of the brush and runs straight toward the shooter on the ground. He flips him over and falls to his knees then looks around as blood seeps down the side of his face. I move out of the thicket, and his gaze stops me in my tracks. Sean looks up at the sky and says something, then he’s running toward me. His body slams into mine, and he kisses me, while his warm blood drips down my cheek. Then he’s holding me at an arm’s length, inspecting me, making sure I’m not hurt.

  “I’m okay. He didn’t even get close.”

  Sean continues to look me over, and it’s not until I put my hand to the wound on the side of his head that he seems to see me for the first time.

  “You’re okay.”

  “Yes, babe, I’m okay. Let’s get you inside. We need to patch you up.”

  Sean grabs hold of my upper arm and shakes his head once.

  “Okay. Think you can make it down the mountain?”

  “Yeah.” He glances at the shooter. “How?”

  I level my stare on the dead body. “He was too focused on you. I yelled out to you to gain his attention, and then shot him right between the eyes.”

  The gravity of my words weighs heavily on me, and my knees give out.

  Sean wastes no time scooping me up and walks toward the cabin, stops, then looks around.

  “There’s a stump over there.” I point. “Put me on it. I’ll be fine in a bit.”

  “Killing a man is no small thing. Even if you did it for the right reasons, it’s okay to be unsettled.”

  “Unsettled?” Laughter bubbles up out of me. “Unsettled, yeah, that’s what I am. You came up here alone, and I heard rifle shots. I didn’t know if you were alive or dead. And I killed a man!” My voice rises as I stand and push at Sean’s chest. “And you… you come stumbling out of the woods, bleeding and running toward the guy I’ve got lined up in my sights. Are you mad?” Like so many times before, my laughter turns to tears and sobbing.

  Sean picks me up and sits on the stump with me safely wrapped in his arms as I let all my anger, frustration, and fear seep out.

  “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here now. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  I sniffle and wipe my nose on my sleeve as I draw in a deep breath. Sean’s grip tightens, and with tears in my eyes, I take in his appearance. There’s a gash across his forehead still seeping blood down his face.

  “Take off your shirt.” Sean quirks an eyebrow and leans back, looking down at me. “Don’t get excited, I want to apply pressure to your wound.”

  With a cheeky grin, he replies, “You could take off your shirt.”

  “You’re a guy, you can be half-naked. If I take off my top, I will be sitting around in my bra and jacket.”

  His grin widens, and he shrugs. “And?”

  “And we have two cars to get back to town. What if I get pulled over? How am I going to explain my lack of clothing?”

  The grin turns into a frown. “You have a point. Apart from that, I don’t want some cop staring at what’s mine.”

  A warmth spreads throughout my chest, and I cup his face and kiss him lightly, then stand.

  “What was that for?” he asks as he hands me his cut and pulls his T-shirt up and over his head.

  “You said, I’m yours. I like it.”

  Sean holds his T-shirt out to me. “Wipe your face, country, then do what you want with me.”

  I dry my tears, then fold the T-shirt and hold it against his forehead. “He almost had you,” I whisper.

  Wincing and applying pressure to his head, Sean says, “He had me. I’m lucky I stumbled, and he only grazed me.” Sean points to the body. “We need to see if he has any ID on him.”

  I glance at the lifeless form and quickly look away.

  Sean reaches up and brushes some hair away from my face. “Deep breaths, Beth. I’ll look.”

  Nodding, I sit back on the log but face in the opposite direction to the body. There’s some noise as Sean must be turning him over to check all his pockets, but I try not to listen. When I was little, my daddy would hum, so I begin humming an old country song to take my mind off the fact I’ve killed a man.

  Sean’s hands rest on my shoulders. “You okay?”

  “I will be.”

  “His name is Robert Bates, has his driver’s license on him. Guess he thought he’d kill me. If he’d shot me when I arrived, I wouldn’t be here now.” Sean moves around to crouch in front of me. “I wonder why he didn’t?”

  Shrugging, I take hold of the T-shirt and pull it away. The blood is seeping a little but not as severely as before.

  “Beth, how’d you get a car?”

  “The waitress, Tamara… he paid her to let him know if anyone turned up wearing an MC cut.” At the mention of the MC, I remember I’ve called Kyle. “Shit! You need to call Kyle.”

  “You didn’t call my brother, did you?” I nod. “There’s no signal up here. We’ll have to head back down the mountain.” Sean stands and holds out his hand to me. “You know he’s going to be fucked off at me, don’t you?”

  “Sorry. I was worried and rightly so.”

  Sean shakes his head and throws an arm around my shoulders, moving me back toward the cars.

  With a heavy sigh, he says, “Kyle is still going to fucking kill me. I gave him my word. As my brother, he’ll forgive me easily, but as my president, not so much.”

  “You had no intention of keeping your promise. I knew it. He knew it.”

  Sean chuckles, and I thread my fingers through his at my shoulder.

  “Yeah.”

  “What do you think he’ll do?”

  “Knowing Kyle, it’ll be interesting. It’s good they’re headed back. I’m surprised they aren’t here already. Angus can run a background check on Bates.”

  Sean

  We’re in the diner eating breakfast. The waitress serves us, but there’s no small talk, and if I glare at her, she visibly shrinks away.

  “Stop it! She apologized,” admonishes Beth.

  I touch my head and frown. “I got shot. Doesn’t that give me the right to hold a grudge?”

  Beth rolls her eyes and goes back to her breakfast of waffles and bacon smothered in maple syrup. For a little thing, she sure can eat.

  The door to the diner bursts open, and Kyle stalks through the door. I stand and take in his appearance—his face is caked in road grime, and his hair is sticking up out of control. He makes a beeline for me and pulls me into a bear hug. Then just as quickly, he pushes me away, his hand’s raised, he’s pointing at me, and advancing into my personal space at the same time.

  I start backing up as he begins to speak. “What the fuck were you thinking? Did it ever occur to you this family might not survive losing another member? And I’m not only talking about us, I am talking about the MC. Jesus, Sean, you ever pull this type of shit again, and I swear, I’ll kill you myself.”

  His eyes are wild, no doubt he’s had no sleep since he left, and Kyle without a solid eight hours isn’t fun to deal with. The bell over the door goes off again, and I look past Sean and see Cutter along with Angus
coming in.

  Kyle has me backed up against a wall. Staring back into his eyes, I nod. “I’m sorry, Kyle. It won’t happen again.”

  Kyle drops his hand, steps back, and straightens his shoulders, bringing himself to his full height. “It better fucking not.” He turns away from me and goes to Beth. With her, he’s soft and caring. Kyle embraces her like she’s made of glass, then he sits in my chair and begins eating my breakfast.

  Angus steps over to me, takes his sunglasses off, and pushes back his black hoodie. “You okay?” I nod as he tips his head in Kyle’s direction. “He was worried. We all were.”

  “I’m sorry, brother.”

  “Yeah.” Angus runs a hand through his hair and then scrubs his face with both hands. “I need food and sleep.”

  “What do you want, I’ll get you something.”

  “Damn straight, you will. Eggs, bacon, pancakes, and coffee. Lots of coffee.”

  “Does this mean I’m paying?”

  Angus steps back and eyes me. “Fuck, yes, you’re paying, you cheap little bitch.”

  In all my years, Angus has never spoken to me this way. I let it slide as he’s tired, but I do punch him in the shoulder.

  “Go sit. I’ll order.” Angus does exactly that. I look past him at Cutter, who’s talking to Beth and smiling at her. “Hey, Romeo! You hungry?”

  Cutter’s head whips in my direction. “Is the Pope Catholic?”

  On my way past the table, I lightly touch on Kyle’s arm, then I head for Tamara, who begins to straighten her uniform with fear plastered across her features.

  “I need eggs, bacon, and pancakes with syrup for four.”

  “R-Right.” She nods profusely.

  “And coffee… lots of coffee.”

  “C-Coming right up.” The woman tries to smile, but it appears more like a grimace. I give her my best death smile—lifeless eyes with no warmth in my features while crossing my arms over my chest—and her face pales.

  Mission fucking accomplished! I head back to the table.

  Beth grins up at me. I drag another table and chair over, so I’m sitting on her other side.