by Megan Lowe
“My street cred has gone through the roof,” he explains. “I’m not just a low-level bookie anymore, now I’m a regular badarse and everyone knows not to fuck with me.”
“Oh, I get it. Now that you’ve killed someone you’re the big man on campus, huh?”
“Something like that.” The smug smile is still on his face. I’d like nothing better than to wipe it off, so I do. I rush at him, taking him and his two goons off guard. I manage a couple of good hits to his face before one of his thugs drags me off him. His lip is split, and there’s a trickle of blood coming from his nose. He spits blood and comes at me while his goons hold me.
“You think you can take me on?” he asks.
“I’ve already done it,” I tell him.
“And now look at you.”
“The way I see it, you’re the only one who’s bleeding,” I say.
He snarls. “You think you’re clever, huh?”
I shake my head. “No, I know I am.”
“How’s that? You’re here with only tubby over there to back you up, not that he’d be much help, while I’ve got Vito and Angelo here, just waiting for my signal to end you.”
“That’s how you’d do it too, isn’t it?” I ask. “There’s no getting dirty for you. I bet you weren’t even the one who killed Phil. I bet you had Tweedledee or Tweedledum here do it.”
Anger flares in his eyes. This wasn’t part of the plan, but I can’t help but think how fantastic this is going to sound when it’s played in court.
“That’s where you’re dead wrong,” he spits. “I was the one who killed him. Stuck my knife deep in his chest and saw the light in his eyes go out as he bled out.”
Just then the sirens sound and cars come rushing into the car park, surrounding us. Connor and his goons look around, panicked, but it’s no use; the cops are on them quickly and have them in handcuffs before I can say “four-stroke.”
Detective Brennan comes up to me and slaps me on the back. “That was some impressive improvisation,” he says.
I shrug. “I just couldn’t stand the look on his face. He looked so smug and confident that he’d gotten away with everything, and I wanted to wipe it off his face.”
“Well, you certainly did that.”
“You got it all?” I ask.
He nods. “Every single word. Should make for a watertight case.”
I nod. “Good.”
“You did well, Mav. Josh and Aubrey are lucky to have you in their lives.”
“I’m the lucky one,” I tell him.
Detective Brennan pats Josh on the shoulder before going over to supervise putting Connor and his goons in the back of the cars.
“Holy shit,” Josh says, his eyes wide. “I can’t believe it!”
“Well, you better, because it’s all real, it’s all happening.”
He grabs me in a hug. I’m not expecting it, so I stumble slightly before I hug him back. “Thank you, Mav.”
I laugh. “I keep telling you, I didn’t do much.”
“You did enough though.”
“It’s no more than you deserve.” We break apart and I slap him on the back. “Come on, we’re done here. Let’s go home to your sister.”
He nods. “Yeah, we’re so done here.”
Chapter 41
Josh
Mav’s words keep echoing in my head on the drive home. We’re done here, we’re done here. It keeps going round in my head, and each time my smile gets a little bigger. It’s all over, it’s done. Connor is in police custody, and Mav got him to spill everything so there’s no way he’s not going to jail.
I rest my head against the window and look up at the stars bright in the sky. I close my eyes and make a promise to myself, to Aubrey, to Mav, to my grandpa, that this is the end, the last time I’ll be anywhere near trouble. I hate that it took so much for me to get my shit together, but I swear I’ll never go back, I’ll never dig myself into such a hole. No, this chapter is done, and I’m moving on to bigger and better things.
Chapter 42
Aubrey
After the “sting,” as Mav and Josh are calling it, things with Connor were wrapped up fairly quickly. His solicitors couldn’t really argue with a taped confession, especially one that was so specific. I haven’t heard it, but Mav told me he didn’t leave any doubt as to who murdered my grandpa. He pled guilty and received a life sentence in jail.
Josh is still completing his community service, but he likes it and doesn’t see it as a punishment. I don’t either. It’s good for him, and he’s come out of his shell so much since he started. He recently celebrated two months without gambling at Gamblers Anonymous. Mav and I couldn’t be prouder of him. He’s taking it very seriously and is still attending twice-weekly meetings. He and Mav have picked up their relationship from where it left off before Mav and I got together. They’re as thick as thieves, although Mav still finds more than enough time for me.
The house sold, for a good price too. I have no doubt a whole heap of uni students will be moving in at the start of the year. Hopefully they’ll have more good times there than Josh and I did. With the money from the sale, and along with Mav, we bought a property together in Advancetown, a semirural suburb of the Gold Coast. The price was astronomical, but with all of us putting in, it doesn’t seem so bad. It’s worth it, though. Four bedrooms, two and a half baths, a games/computer room for the boys, plus a huge shed and a nice kitchen, even though none of us are great cooks.
Uni finished a few weeks ago, and even with everything that happened, we all managed to pass our courses. Mav and Josh are planning on taking all their classes together again next semester, which I think is cute. They refuse to see it as anything other than practical.
Mav’s focus has now shifted to the Extreme Games. I could tell he was still unsure about competing, even once the bike Rome built arrived. I gave him space so he could work it out, but in the end something else made the decision for him.
We were beginning the unpacking process when Detective Brennan showed up. Needless to say, we were all a bit shocked to see him, and worried as well. It wouldn’t have surprised any of us if Connor had decided to change his plea to not guilty and tie us up in court for the next eighteen months. We invited the detective in and waited for what he had to say.
“Nice place you got here,” he said, oblivious to our desperation.
“Thanks,” Mav said, taking my hand.
“Bet it set you back a bit.”
“Josh and Aubrey used most of the money they got from the sale of their old house, and I had prize money from the various FMX competitions I’ve won,” he answered tersely, not knowing what the detective was getting at.
“A bit far out, isn’t it?”
“We wanted peace and quiet, and I needed the space so I can ride.”
Detective Brennan nodded.
Not able to stand the suspense anymore, I asked, “So what brings you here, Detective?”
He looked at our tense faces and smiled. “It’s nothing bad, I promise.” We all let out the breaths we were holding.
“So what is it?” Josh asked.
The detective turned to Mav. “We found your bike.”
“My bike?” he asked.
Detective Brennan nodded. “The one that was stolen during the break-in at your apartment.”
“Oh,” Mav said, excitement on his face.
“It was at Connor’s mother’s house.”
“Is it—” He stopped and swallowed. “Is it still in one piece?”
“As far as we can tell, it was never touched.” Mav slumped back on the couch. “And,” Detective Brennan continued, “because Connor’s not going to trial, you’re able to collect it from our impound lot, if you’d like.”
“Are you kidding me?” Mav said. “Of course I want to! When can I go? Can I go right now?”
Detective Brennan chuckled, and my heart warmed. Mav loves that bike, and even though the one Rome built for him is just as good, I could tell he missed
his old one. Beats me why; they’re all the same to me.
“It’s yours to collect whenever you want,” Brennan said.
Mav jumped up and shook the detective’s hand before grabbing his phone. A few seconds later, we heard him say, “Hey Tom, I need your help with something. The police found my bike. It’s sitting in their impound lot waiting for me.”
There was silence while Tom replied.
“Awesome, I’ll meet you there.” He walked back into the living room and grabbed his keys.
“Going to get your bike?” I asked.
“You bet I am,” he said, a look of pure joy on his face. It’s a look I’ve only seen once or twice in all the time I’ve known him, but it’s one I’d give anything to see more of. “Tom’s going to meet me at the lot with his truck so we can bring her back here.”
A few hours later, Mav and Tom were back. They rode around for a bit before stopping to talk. There was a lot of pointing and nodding going on; it all looked very serious. I walked out to them, cold drinks in my hands.
“Here,” I said, offering the beverages to them.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” Mav said, kissing me on the cheek.
“So what’s got you two looking so serious?”
“I was telling your boyfriend what it would take to turn this place into a compound,” Tom said.
“A compound?” I asked Mav. “Like Tom’s?”
He shrugged. Tom slapped him on the back. “Like I said, it probably wouldn’t take much. Let me know if you want a hand or anything.”
Mav nodded, shook his hand, and walked him to his truck. I waited for him inside, but instead of joining me in the living room, he joined Josh in their computer lair. I call it that because it’s so dark and serious in there.
Later at dinner, he and Josh kept up a steady stream of chatter. If I hadn’t known what he was doing before, I certainly did then. My boyfriend was trying to avoid talking to me. Why? I wasn’t sure.
When Mav finally made it to bed, I knew it was reluctantly. I’m a light sleeper, so I woke when he slid in behind me. He may have been trying to avoid talking to me, but that didn’t mean he wanted me to be far away from him. He reached over and dragged me into his arms. As he did, I glanced at the clock and saw it read 4:27 a.m. We lay there for a while, neither of us saying anything, but sleep not claiming us either. I was the first one to break, rolling over so I faced him. The faint smell of exhaust still clung to his skin, and the crease that was once permanently etched between his eyebrows but had disappeared recently, is back.
“You want to tell me why you were avoiding me this afternoon and evening?” I asked, trying to smooth out the crease with my fingertip.
“Not really.”
I sighed. “Mav.” Just when I thought we were finally there, something happened to pull us away.
“Really, it’s nothing. I’m good now.”
“Are you really?” I asked.
He nodded and pulled me tighter to him. “I’m with you. How could I be anything but good?”
“Because you’re fighting within yourself again.” He stayed silent but hung his head. “It’s okay to miss it, to miss riding, to want to ride.”
“I came up here to get away from riding, from that part of me.”
“Tell me honestly, do you miss it?” I asked.
“It doesn’t matter, it’s not who I am anymore. I thought I could do both, but look at the trouble it caused,” he said. Bitterness, anger, and resignation were heavy in his voice.
“What trouble? You mean with Josh and Connor? Your bike being stolen didn’t cause that trouble, Mav, it was a result of it.”
He shrugged. “Either way….”
“No. Not either way. You having a bike up here did not cause Josh’s issues with Connor. They started long before that.”
“Whatever,” he said, dismissively.
“Don’t you whatever me. Go ask Josh yourself if you don’t believe me. He’ll tell you what you’re saying is bullshit.”
A hint of a smile crossed his face. “I think that’s only the third time I’ve heard you swear.”
It was my turn to shrug. “If the shoe fits.”
The moment turned serious again. “It doesn’t matter who caused what though. I’m not that guy anymore,” he said.
“Why can’t you be?” Again he’s silent. I take a different tack. “How did it feel?” I asked.
“Huh?”
“Out there today, riding with Tom, and every other time you’ve ridden up here, how did it make you feel?” I asked.
He was quiet for a long time, so much so I’d have thought he was asleep except for the fact he was twirling my hair around his fingers. I’d just opened my mouth to speak when his voice cut through the silence. “It felt good.” His tone cut me. He sounded like a little boy admitting he was the one who broke his mother’s heirloom vase. “It felt good,” he repeated. “Like being home again, but I can’t go back.”
“Why not? Rome went to all the trouble of building you a bike, and I saw the look on your face when Detective Brennan said you could get your old one back. You love it. You miss it,” I told him.
He shook his head. “No.”
I grabbed his face and stopped the movement. “Listen to me. You miss riding, and as much as you insist it’s not, it is a part of you. Don’t fight this, don’t fight who you are. You moved up here to figure out who that is. It’s not a bad thing to realise you’re not so far from who you thought you are. And….”
He looked up, his blue-grey eyes piercing into mine. “And what?”
I sighed. “Mav the rider is pretty hot.”
That got a smile. A small one. “Yeah?” he asked, almost shyly. I shrugged. “So you don’t mind if I ride?”
“Why would I mind?” I asked, confused.
“Because that’s not who you fell in love with.”
“I fell in love with you, Mav, every part of you.”
“So you really want me to do this? To ride?”
“I want you to do what you want. If that means competing in the Extreme Games, then awesome. If not, no worries.”
“Yeah?” he asked, a hint of hope in his voice.
“It’s who you are. For so long you’ve thought that you can either be a rider or a tech guy. I’m telling you now that you can be both, that I know deep down that’s what you want to do.”
“So you don’t mind if I compete at the Extreme Games?” he asked.
“Only if I can come with you.”
His smile lit up the room. “Of course you’d be coming with me.”
“Then by all means….”
He hugged me tight and kissed me deeply.
“You know,” he said, when we broke apart, “the comp’s only a couple of days, and there’s no point going all that way for just a few days.”
My brow furrowed. Was he trying to back out? I thought he’d just decided to go. “But I thought—”
He held up a hand. “So we may as well make the most of it. Do side trips to New York or LA. Maybe go to New Orleans or Memphis, over to Vegas even. Or if that’s not your style, we have a cousin in Massachusetts we could visit.”
“Like a holiday?”
He nodded. “Exactly like a holiday.”
“So you’re not backing out?” I asked.
He sighed. “I’m still not convinced I can do both, be both versions of myself, but you’re right, I do miss riding. I tried to convince myself that I didn’t, that doing IT was what I wanted, and it is, but riding’s in my blood. Hopefully that’ll be enough to ensure I don’t make a total arse out of myself during the comp, but who knows, maybe I’m not as good as I think I am.”
I cupped his face. “No, you’ll be better.”
Another beautiful smile broke across his face. “Thank you for this.”
“It’s what I’m here for.”
“So what do you say? A trip to America to watch your hot FMX boyfriend compete—” his cheeks heated underneath my palms as he said it,
“—then a highlight tour of the US’s best cities?”
I kissed him quickly. “I say yes!”
Chapter 43
Mav
When I was last here fourteen months ago, I thought and hoped that I wouldn’t be back. Honestly, I had no intention of being back again, but what Aubrey said was right. I did miss riding, I was just too stubborn to admit it. As much as I was sure riding isn’t who I am, I was wrong. It is a part of me, it just isn’t all of me. I have to have a balance. Aubrey gives me that. Hell, she gives me everything, including one hell of a blow job this morning for luck.
My first event is Best Trick. I decided I’m only competing in two this year, Best Trick and Moto-X. Even though the advances the guys are making in tricks are insane, I’m pretty confident my double backflip/trick combo is enough to medal, even if it is only bronze.
Listen to me, “even if it is only bronze.” If I walk away from this with a bronze medal, I’ll be fucking stoked.
In the end I walked away with a silver, which was so much more than I hoped for. Of course, the media are all over me, wanting to know if this is the beginning of the end of Mav Ryan, but Bria has it handled. What she doesn’t have handled is my brother, who looks like he’s barely holding on to his shit.
“What’s up with Reed?” I ask her on the way to my medal ceremony.
She sighs. “He’s pissed at me.”
I stop in my tracks. “He’s pissed at you? What could you have possibly done to make him angry with you? I’m pretty sure you could have an affair with Valentino Rossi”—who he hates with a passion—“and he’d still take you back. He worships the ground you walk on.”
My sister-in-law smiles at the reminder of her husband’s devotion. It quickly disappears when she answers, “He doesn’t like the amount of stress I’m under.”
“Are you under a lot of stress? Is it all the coverage about me? If it’s too much you should’ve told me, I wouldn’t have come back.” Immediately I feel bad for not considering how my comeback would affect Bria.
She puts her hand on my arm. “Your comeback is a great thing and I wouldn’t care how much media interest it caused. I would gladly deal with any and all of it.”