Speed of Light (Marauders #3.5)

by Lina Andersson

  She’d had one, but she was holding off, and she still wasn’t sure why—if it was because she didn’t like the idea or… again, if it was because of Mace. Kathleen had never seen herself as one of those women who gave up everything for a man, and she definitely never aspired to be one. Rather the opposite; she despised them. At the least she despised the society that had allowed a system of blatant gender apartheid to become the accepted norm. Even so, she didn’t think that was what was going on when it came to the Marauders and Mace. She couldn’t find a story in it, and to write her best, she had to feel the story. Writing pure gossip wouldn’t help her career, anyway, at least not in the direction she wanted it to go. Unless just getting out of Greenville was a direction, which it could be, she assumed.

  With a sigh, she pulled out the earphones and closed her laptop. As cute and eager as The Green Kittens were, they weren’t her ticket out of Hickville, Arizona. Kathleen assumed she should take pride and care in her work no matter what it was about, but she didn’t have the will for it, and she couldn’t muster up the energy to try. She didn’t give a shit. Anything she wrote was better than the upper standard at G.O., anyway, and she didn’t see the point in trying any harder.

  When her doorbell rang, she got up with another sigh and went to answer it. She knew it was Mace. He was the only visitor she’d ever had at the house. The expression on his face surprised her, though.

  “Hi?” she said and took a step back.

  “Wanna tell me what you were doing taking pictures of Eliza earlier today?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “And what she wrote on the note she gave you.” He took a step towards her, and she instinctively took a step back because he looked pissed as hell. “You think we’re stupid? That we don’t know what you’re doing, but I suggest you stay the fuck away from family members, especially Brick’s family members.”

  It was firmly imbedded in Kathleen to protect her sources and never give up more information about a story she was writing than was absolutely necessary. This wasn’t even a ‘story’ in her book. She’d just interviewed a group of girls who were having fun together. It was an attempt from G.O. to get younger readers, but also to support young kids who tried to keep the community alive in a great way. It would’ve been so easy for her to tell him what it was about, but she didn’t, and she didn’t consider it for a second. For more than one reason, the first being that he could’ve given her the benefit of the doubt and simply, in a calm voice, asked her about it. He could’ve trusted her. She knew she might not have done a lot to gain his trust, but she hadn’t done anything to deserve his distrust, either.

  So Kathleen reacted with her journalist instincts, and protected her source and her story. And also with her normal, human instinct and got pissed at him for what he was doing.

  “Get the fuck out of here.”

  “I’m not leaving until we’re done.”

  “We’re done, and if you get out now, we’re only done for today. If you push, you’re not coming back at all.”

  “Why were you there?” he insisted.

  “That’s none of your business. Now, get the fuck out of here.”

  Quicker than she’d expected, he took another step forward and grabbed her arm. If his threats hadn’t decided it for sure, him grabbing her did. There were some things Kathleen didn’t accept, and a guy grabbing her in the way Mace was doing was most definitely one of them. That was it, if he got physical in that way, there was no way of knowing how far he’d go the next time, and she wasn’t going to stick around to find out. That was another mistake she wouldn’t do more than once.

  “Nothing about us gets printed without our say-so, is that clear?” he hissed. “So you’re sending Brick the article no matter what it is.”

  Kathleen stared at Mace to see if he’d let go of her. When he didn’t, she ripped her arm from his grip and took a step back, when he reached for her again, she slapped him.

  “Don’t you dare touch me again,” she said. “The world doesn’t revolve around you guys. And for the record: I’ve had congressmen, senators, FBI agents, IRS, and even the fucking director of the CIA threatening me in an attempt to make me not print something. If you think a small-town crook has any fucking say-so about what I write, you should get professional help for your God complex. Get the fuck out!”

  “You know Harold will pull it if we tell him to.”

  “Then I suggest you go knock on Harold’s door because mine is permanently closed to you and your little gang.”

  He wouldn’t move, so Kathleen crossed her arms over her chest. “In five seconds, I’m going for the mace.”

  With a snarl, he nodded, but he stopped by the door and looked at her. “We’re not done talking about this.”

  “I am, but if you wanna keep talking, do it outside.”

  He left, and when Kathleen had slammed the door shut behind him, she laughed. She honestly couldn’t think of any other sensible reaction. She was usually proud about her smarts, but this had firmly proved to herself that she’d overestimated her own intelligence, because that would be the second time in less than a year that she’d swallowed a bag of bullshit—hook, line, and sinker—and she’d also proved without a doubt that her insta-lust led her astray every time.

  At least she didn’t have much of a career to ruin anymore, she thought to herself and laughed even harder.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Title

  o0o

  “FUCK,” MACE MUTTERED AND was about to close the paper when he changed his mind and took a closer look at Kathleen’s byline.

  He wondered when the picture was taken because he didn’t think it was recent. Her hair was a lot shorter, and she wore more makeup than he’d ever seen on her. Her right eyebrow was cocked, and her bangs were parted on the side, and she rarely had that. Actually, the only time he’d seen that on her was at the play, so he assumed it was something she did when she put some effort into her looks.

  He knew he’d messed up, but he’d been pissed.

  Brick had called him when he’d found out that Kathleen had been taking pictures of Eliza, and he’d been furious. Most often, Brick was a calm and calculating man, but if it somehow involved his baby girl, he just snapped. It had happened more than once, but this had actually been the worst outburst ever, and the full force of the rage had been directed at Mace. It had been a five-minute monologue with every single word reaching a decibel level high enough to rival a metal concert.

  The smart thing for Mace would have been to calm down before going to see her, but he hadn’t. And while his ears were still ringing from Brick’s yelling, he’d gone to talk to Kathleen. In his defense, she could’ve just fucking told him she’d been there to interview the girls about their fucking theater group, but she hadn’t. Instead she’d basically riled him up even worse, and… she’d told him to fuck off. In retrospect, he understood, but he was still pissed as hell at her.

  The real blowout came when Mel and Eliza found out, though. Mace hadn’t been around to see it, since it had all gone down at Brick’s place, but both Brick and Mace had been in Mel’s doghouse since then. She’d been pissed and Eliza had apparently been furious—Mace hadn’t seen her since then. According to Mel, Brick needed to learn that the world didn’t revolve around him and the Marauders, which was about the same thing as Kathleen had said to him before telling him to get the fuck out of her house the second time.

  The article had been in the paper, and as far as Mace knew Kathleen hadn’t mentioned anything about him to Eliza or any of her friends. She’d just emailed them her pictures, wished them luck in the future, and thanked them for the interview. Mel’s only comment had been that Kathleen, as opposed to the Marauders, was a professional.

  They might have overreacted, but not as much as Mel and Eliza wanted them to think. She might not be writing about them, but it hadn’t been a damn accident that she’d shown up at their garage, so it wasn’t such a fucking farfetched idea. She’d been seen with a lot
of people somehow connected to the Marauders, but when she’d started fucking Mace it had calmed down.

  Mace himself hadn’t seen her in over a month, but they still had people who kept an eye on her. He’d tried to call her a couple of times, but she hadn’t answered. Finally she’d sent him a text asking if he didn’t understand the concept of ‘we’re done.’

  “What’s going on?” Sisco asked and raised an eyebrow when he saw what Mace was reading. “Really? Again?”

  “Shut up,” Mace mumbled and folded the paper shut. “Just keeping an eye on her.”

  “Suuure,” Sisco chuckled. “If you want to do it in person, she’s at the courthouse.”

  “How do you know?”

  Instead of answering, Sisco held up his phone to show a text from one of their hang-arounds informing him of Kathleen’s whereabouts. At home, the paper, a café, and the courthouse was where she’d been that day. Mace had a hunch that the club keeping an eye on Kathleen was more because of him than that anyone really thought she was gunning for them anymore, and it made him feel like a crazy stalker.

  Mace hesitated a lot less than he would’ve thought, and then he stood up and gave the grinning Sisco a nod. “Thanks.”

  He told Mel he’d be away for a while, and she didn’t even bother looking at him, but he assumed she was okay with it since she wasn’t yelling. She’d been yelling a lot lately.

  It didn’t take him long to find Kathleen, and he didn’t even have to enter the courthouse because she was outside by a food cart. There was a guy in a suit next to her, and he handed her a big coffee. Mace had never seen Kathleen looking the way she did. It was pretty close to what she looked like on her byline picture, and she wore wide black pants and a white blouse. She looked like a fucking lawyer, not a hotshot journalist. He stared at her, and then she noticed him. He held his breath, and… nothing. She just kept walking, barely looked at him, and he didn’t know what to think. Or if he should think anything. That was apparently what ‘we’re done’ meant to her, that the other person didn’t exist.

  By the time he’d snapped out of his daze, she was gone, and a quick scan of the list of ongoing cases didn’t give him any further clues to where she could be. It was just crap stuff and nothing he could imagine in G.O. He wasn’t going to sit outside of the courthouse and wait for her; the cops would probably think he was there to threaten someone if he did.

  “No luck?” Sisco asked when Mace came back to the garage.

  “No. Why do you even give a fuck about this?”

  Sisco shrugged. “I read her stuff.”

  “What?”

  “I went through the finances with Mitch, and he had a bunch of her articles on his desk, so I read them.”

  “What the fuck does that has to do with anything? You want her to write about us?”

  “Fuck no. Don’t want her to even think about writing about us. She doesn’t pull punches.”

  “So you want me to keep keeping an eye on her to make sure she doesn’t do that?”

  “No.” Sisco looked really uncomfortable, and Mace couldn’t remember ever seeing his friend looking like that. “I was just trying to help out.”

  “Don’t try.” It took him a few seconds. “Fucking hell, is this about Ma?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You know, if you had tits and regularly sucked my cock this would be the definition of a bad marriage.”

  “Regular blowjobs aren’t common in a bad marriage.”

  “You’re missing the point,” Mace muttered.

  “That would make two of us.”

  He leaned his head back with a deep sigh. “I’m about to punch you.”

  “Okay. I’m gonna fucking spell it out, and you’re gonna listen. You can punch me when I’m done.” Sisco looked angry, which was unusual. He didn’t get angry that often. “How many women have you been in love with?”

  Okay, that made his point very clear. “You know the answer to that.”

  “I do. And you’re my friend, so I suggest you do something about it.”

  Mace left. It was leaving or breaking his best friend’s nose.

  o0o

  “Are you going to bring her to see me?” his mom asked with a glare.

  “We’re not really at the point where we see each other’s families.”

  It had been a really fucking stupid idea to go from the argument with Sisco to see his mom. He should’ve just gone home, or gone to find a sweetbutt to get some release, but for some reason he’d wanted his mom. The silliness of the fact that a man in his fifties needed his mom didn’t elude him, but it was the god’s honest truth—he needed her.

  “You should try to get to that point soon. I’m not going to be around for much longer,” she muttered. He would have liked to protest, but they both knew it was true. She squeezed his hand with a weak smile. “Tell me about her, at least.”

  He didn’t like describing people. It wasn’t possible to do without simplifying, and he hated simplifying people, especially people he liked. Describing Kathleen in a few sentences didn’t even seem possible, and if he was honest with himself, he didn’t really know her. He’d told his mom the basic facts about her, and she was naturally intrigued about Kathleen working at the G.O. What he hadn’t told his mom was that he’d fucked it all up, and that Kathleen was ignoring him. He had no idea how long he could keep the act up, and he didn’t think he could ask Kathleen to fake-meet his mom for his sake. He had actually considered that, but it seemed a little too screwed up even for him.

  “I don’t know what to tell you,” he admitted.

  “What do you know about her family?”

  “She’s from Dayton. They’re rich. I don’t think she has much contact with them.”

  “Why?”

  “Why she doesn’t, or why I don’t think she does?”

  “I want to know what you think,” she said. “It’s your opinion I’m interested in.”

  “I don’t know, Ma. We haven’t talked about our families much.”

  She laughed until the laughter turned into a bad cough, and just when he was about to call for a doctor she shook her head and dried off her mouth. It most certainly made him a complete dick that he was relieved it happened, simply since it might stop her from asking more about Kathleen.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “No. I’m dying, but I’m no worse than I was five minutes ago.”

  He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Macabre as always. I need to leave soon. I’ll ask her to meet you when I don’t think it’ll freak her the fuck out.”

  “Language!”

  “Sorry. Love you, Ma.”

  “Love you.”

  “I’ll see you on Saturday,” he said.

  Mace had received an email from Vic with a fucking schedule for when Vic planned on visiting their mom, and he’d asked Mace to not go there on the same days. He wouldn’t mind seeing Vic, but he also couldn’t blame Vic for not feeling the same way.

  When he left the room, he noticed Vic further down the hall, though. The day was getting worse by the minute, and it had already reached previously unknown levels by then. The only relief was that they were most likely having a party for Wrench later that day. His top rocker would be voted on, and Mace was convinced no one would vote against the prospect. The party for someone becoming a member was among the better and wilder ones, so that was something to look forward to.

  “Don’t fucking blame me,” Mace said before Vic could open his mouth. “Today wasn’t on that stupid fucking schedule you sent me.”

  “I know. I want to talk to you. I’ve been at your house a couple of times, but you weren’t there, and I didn’t think I’d be welcome at the clubhouse.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Mace confirmed, and kept walking. Showing up and trying to beat up one of the members tended to have the effect that you were banned from the place. “So what do you want?”

  “Have you seen Joyce?”

  “You know I have. She was the one w
ho told me about Ma.” Mace turned around and looked at his brother. “That’s the only time I’ve seen her since Christmas. If you’re asking if we fucked: no, we didn’t. I didn’t even let her into my house.”

  Vic scanned the hallway, as if he was nervous someone would catch him standing next to an outlaw biker. He probably was. Vic had once had political ambitions but had made it very clear to Mace that Mace’s life choices would make it hard for him. Mace, on the other hand, had pointed out that in the twenty-first century it was considered a scandal when a politician fucked around with a wife waiting for them at home. At least if the women he fucked were hookers. Vic hadn’t brought it up again, and he fucking shouldn’t.

  “Was there anything else?” Mace asked.

  “Do we have to do this here?” Vic asked in return. “There’s a park just outside. I’ll buy you a coffee.”

  “Come on, then,” Mace muttered.

  It was weird, standing by a food cart to buy coffee next to his brother. It also made him think about Kathleen earlier that day. Partly because if anyone else saw them there, they would probably assume it was a lawyer and his client. His brother in his crisp white shirt, ridiculously expensive suit, and flawless haircut and shave. And Mace with his worn jeans, MC boots, a Meshuggah t-shirt, long hair, and braided beard. It would require a really close look to notice they were brothers. They both ordered black coffee, though. They’d always had similar taste, including what they wanted their women to look like: brunettes, medium tits, and a slightly crooked mouth.