“Are you still going to write about us?”
“No.” She gave his chest a kiss. “I researched, but I research a lot of things that never turn into something. I can’t find an angle on you, something unique, so I’ve dropped it. Frankly, you don’t interest me enough.”
“We don’t?” He felt a bit insulted by that, which was silly, but he did. “Why not?”
“Any idea I have has already been written. Biker clubs have been figuring in the media since the Fifties or Sixties. I doubt there are that many new things to write about you guys. So you don’t have to keep an eye on me anymore.”
“Would it be okay if I did?”
“Yeah,” she said after a second. “Keep an eye on me, but don’t ever again tell me what I can and can’t write. If I’d been serious about writing about you, I probably wouldn’t have let you and me become… whatever we became.”
“Probably?” he asked with a laugh.
“You were pretty pushy, and sexy, so I’m not sure I would’ve managed to hold you off.”
He ran his fingers into her hair and took a firm grip without pulling. It was more an insurance so she’d stay close, and because he liked her hair.
“So we’re not done?”
“No, we’re not done,” she answered, and he pulled her closer for another kiss.
“Good.” He hesitated, but then he went for it. He didn’t have much time. “I got a favor to ask.”
“Okay?”
“Would you come and meet my mom?”
Kathleen stared at him, and her green eyes were more curious than freaked out. “Are you shitting me?”
“No. I… mentioned you, and she…” Fuck, why the fuck had he said that? “She’s sick, and she might think I’m gay.”
“What?” Kathleen asked with a laugh.
“Only one I ever introduced her to is Sisco.”
“I’ll come with you and save your reputation with your mom.” She kept laughing and rose up to give him a kiss. “Do I need to worry about Sisco?”
“No. He refuses to suck my cock.”
“The bastard. And it’s such a nice cock, too.”
“It is.” He pulled her closer and gave her a hug. “So you’ll come with me?”
“Yes. And I’m sorry about your mom.”
“Thanks.” He held chin and looked at her again. He couldn’t get enough of her at the moment, and had this strong need of her. Like he wanted to crawl under her skin. “And try to look like you’re in love with me and think I’m awesome.”
“I’ll practice,” she mumbled and lay back down, holding him tight.
o0o
The next morning he found her sitting on the kitchen island reading a paper, wearing nothing but a tank top and panties with her coffee cup next to her.
“How many of these do you drink a day?” he asked and took a sip from it.
“Too many and not enough.”
He smiled; he’d missed her short and to-the-point answers. He grabbed her hips and slid her closer to him over the counter. To keep her balance, she spread her legs, and he made sure she couldn’t cross them again by standing between them.
“You in a hurry?” he asked.
“No,” she smiled. “Why?”
“You mentioned something about getting head on the kitchen island,” he answered and took the newspaper from her.
“I did mention that.”
“And I don’t think you gave me head yesterday.”
“Wouldn’t want to be your second Sisco, so I’ll do that.”
“Good,” he mumbled and gently pushed her down to lie on her back. He kissed her calf while pulling off her panties.
“Hang on,” she said and sat up to pull off her tank top.
She lay back down in the right position and spread her legs, leaning on her elbows, while holding his eyes with hers. He grabbed the back of her thighs with a firm grip and leaned down. When he settled his teeth on the inside of her thigh with a light bite, she moaned.
“How long do I have?” he asked in a hum against her mound.
“It’s Wednesday,” she said, and he understood what she meant. It was the day G.O. came out, so he had as long as he wanted. She wasn’t in any hurry.
“We’re gonna fuck our way back to bed before I let you go to work.”
CHAPTER NINE
Not Once
o0o
KATHLEEN TURNED OFF THE computer with a sigh. She was the last one still at the office, but it was getting more common that Blair or even Dan stayed late. After his initial skepticism, Dan was getting more positive about the changes. Kathleen tried to, but she still had a hard time to muster up any enthusiasm for her work. Getting there early and leaving late was more out of habit than a sense of duty.
She turned off all the lights, set the alarm, and left. On her way home, she passed the grocery store, and as always a few people stopped her to give her a tip about something she ‘just couldn’t miss.’ She wasn’t used to that part of living in a small town; if they’d seen your picture in The Greenville Observer, they seemed to think they knew you, and Kathleen’s face was in it every damn week. It had happened on occasion when she lived in D.C., too, but not as often, and not in the same way as it did in Greenville. The people talked to her like they were her old friends, and she didn’t like it. Kathleen was not a people-person. She could handle people, she could read people, and she had no problem with talking to them for an interview or even to make them relax by being charming while she interviewed them, but she did not do small talk. In fact, she hated it. And when the ‘tips’ were about the things that usually appeared in the G.O., she considered it small talk.
It took her over half an hour to just get through the store and grab the essentials, and towards the end she wasn’t even close to civil to those who approached her.
When she finally came home, Mace was sitting on his bike outside her house.
“Hey, Hotshot.”
“Hi.” She got the groceries from the backseat. “Help me with this.”
“How domestic of us,” Mace commented as they walked towards the house.
“I’ll figure out something sexy as soon as I’ve had something to eat.”
“Domestic can be sexy.”
“No, it can’t.”
“You haven’t seen the right couples being domestic. That’s all.”
He demonstrated by lifting her up on the counter the second she’d put down the bags. Standing between her legs, he gave her a deep kiss. Kathleen’s arms sneaked around his neck, and she sucked on his tongue with a groan. When her legs circled his hips, he pushed closer to make sure she knew how hard he was, and with a deep moan she leaned her head back to get away from his lips, but he wasn’t giving up that easily. He ran his tongue from as deep into her cleavage as he could reach and up to the side of her neck. If she didn’t stop him right away, she wouldn’t be able to—or want to.
“I need to eat,” she panted.
“Damn,” Mace chuckled and pressed his hard-on against her. “Sure? I must be losing my touch.”
“No, I’m just really hungry.” She gave him a quick kiss and tried to push him to the side so she could get down on the floor, but he wouldn’t move.
“Okay. What’s for dinner?”
“Sweet and Sour Chicken or Beef Chow Fun.”
“Lean Cuisine again?” he asked and leaned his forehead against her. “You really can’t cook.”
“I can, I just don’t like doing it.”
“Fuck that. I’ll order something for us.”
“It’s okay. The Sweet and Sour Chicken is pretty nice.”
Mace laughed. “I bet that you usually eat your food while reading or watching a movie, or something.”
“So?”
“If you actually ate it, and tasted it, you’d know that it’s not pretty nice.”
“Then order anything you want.” When he picked up his phone, she managed to push him to the side and jumped down on the floor.
“What kind of pizza?�
�� he asked her.
“I’m having Sweet and Sour Chicken,” she answered and started to unpack her bags, leaving the chicken on the counter.
It had been almost a month since she’d gotten back together with Mace, and they’d pretty much picked up where they’d left off. If they met up, he came to her house, and they talked, had sex, and the next morning he tried to keep her in bed for as long as possible. It happened at least five times a week, but usually every night, and she wasn’t complaining. Mace was easygoing, didn’t demand much, and he didn’t push. There was one thing she was wondering about, though, and she hadn’t known how to bring it up. So, she just did it.
“Your mom,” she started.
“Yeah. I know I freaked you out, but like I said, I mentioned you, and now she’s busting my balls about you every time I visit.”
“So you never told her we weren’t seeing each other anymore?”
“No. I didn’t want to kill her. She’s dying quick enough as it is.” He mumbled the last part.
Kathleen turned around, and Mace was standing still, just staring at his phone. She walked up next to him and nestled into his arms.
“I’m sorry. And you didn’t freak me out, but we’re not… exactly public.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to.”
“I’ll do it. I told you I would, but then you didn’t bring it up again.”
“Like I said, I thought I freaked you out. So you’re okay with it? I’m going there tomorrow.”
“Definitely, and I won’t even ask you to meet my parents in return.” She looked at the menus on the counter. “What’s her name?”
“Pamela.”
She laughed. “You have a tattoo with your mom’s name on your chest?”
“What did you think it was for?”
“Some old love.”
“No,” he smiled. “Don’t have any of those. Hence Ma really wanting to see you.”
“Okay.” She looked at him, and he still had a slight smile on his lips. He’d taken off the hoodie, and the back of his t-shirt was stuck on the gun he had tucked into the back of his jeans. “Can’t you just take the noodles? It’s faster.”
“So?”
“Means we’ll be naked in bed sooner.”
“That’s a very good argument,” he murmured and lifted her up on the counter. “So you’re horny?”
“I’m very horny.”
“Good. I like you that way.”
o0o
The word ‘dying’ hadn’t really meant much to Kathleen before. Her grandparents had died at a distance, and although she’d interviewed people who’d lost loved ones on a number of occasions, she’d never seen dying. Looking at Mace’s mom, Pamela, she saw it. As clearly as she could see her own hands, a car, or whatever the hell she might be looking at, looking at Mrs. Mullen was like looking at ‘dying’ as a noun.
It wasn’t just her pale, almost yellow skin, and her skinny frame under the blanket, but how it just ended around the level where Kathleen assumed her knees where. She hadn’t known that Pamela’s legs had been amputated. When she thought about it, she didn’t know much about Pamela at all, just that she was dying and that Mace wanted them to meet.
“Ma, this is Kathleen.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Kathleen.”
“Pleasure to meet you, too, Mrs. Mullen.”
Kathleen had never in her life been as uncomfortable as she was in that moment, and she wasn’t familiar with being uncomfortable at all. She was a goddamn journalist, and she’d been one of the best. To get to that point, you had to leave ‘uncomfortable’ behind and just face things head on, but she had absolutely no idea what to say to Mace’s mom, and she was embarrassed. She sat down on a chair next to the bed and tried to rack her brain for something to talk about before the uncomfortable silence became even worse.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” came a thin chuckle from the bed. “No one knows what to say when facing death.”
“Ma—“ Maces started, but silenced when she raised a skinny hand.
“Don’t try. I’m dying, everyone in this room knows it, and death is a loathsome thing. No one wants to see it up close.” She tried to smile at Kathleen. “I’m selfish enough to put you through it, since I wanted to see you.”
She decided that she liked Pam, and she gave the old woman a smile. “Okay.”
“I’m still not convinced you’re not one of the strippers and that he’s paying you to pretend. He might want me calm before I go.”
“I’ve seen their strippers. None of them are older than thirty.”
“I like her,” she said to Mace. “Vince told me you work at the G.O. How is Glenn?”
“He’s fine.”
“Is his ass still getting bigger?”
“Yes,” Kathleen laughed. “It does seem to grow at a steady pace.”
Pam shook her head. “I’ve been tellin’ that man since he was thirty-five that he’d have a heart attack if he didn’t lose weight. Guess the joke’s on me.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s still a heart attack waiting to happen, so he might go before you do.”
The comment made Pam laugh. “I’ve tried to ask Vince about you, but he’s not saying much, not even a comment about your tits, so I think that’s a good sign.”
Kathleen gave Mace a look, but he refused to meet her eyes. “High praise, even?”
“She’s a smart one. And pretty. Definitely a keeper.”
“I might have to leave the room if you keep this up,” Mace muttered and sat down next to Kathleen. He took her hand. “But I think you’re right.”
“So, Keegan, that’s Irish.”
“Yes.”
“Black Irish?”
“If you’re referring to the Spanish Armada Irish, I don’t think that’s ever been proven to be a thing,” Kathleen answered.
“Really? What a disappointment. I liked the idea of a bunch of Spaniards washing up on the shore and then surviving. It’s a little romantic. When did your family come to the US? Do you know?”
“Yes, they came to the US in the late 19th century, I think. Mom’s side might have been later. I don’t know much about them.”
“Never been interested?”
“No.”
“Vince is from the 19th century Mullens,” Pamela said. “They came to New York in 1811. My husband’s ancestor left there towards the end of the 19th century because he hated his brother. They’ve always been big on sibling hatred.”
“I don’t hate him,” Mace muttered.
“No. It’s a strange love-hate,” Pamela said. “But that’s not why I’m telling you this. He came to Arizona and started a church.”
“Snake-handling,” Mace snorted.
“What?” Kathleen asked. “Those guys who wave snakes around?”
“Yes,” Pamela laughed. “The guys who wave snakes around. He’d seen George Went Hensley preach, and got inspired. He later had two sons, and they hated each other, so one left—my husband’s father—joined the army before coming here to Greenville. Arizona, but still a bit away from his preaching relatives.”
“Is the church still there?”
“Yes. They’re still waving snakes around, too, last I heard.” Pamela took Kathleen’s hand. “They’re crazy, most of his ancestors are, and mine aren’t any better, but it doesn’t matter. The ones who came before you don’t have to define you unless you want them to.”
“That’s good to know,” Kathleen said.
She wasn’t sure exactly why Pamela was telling her this, but it still felt pretty encouraging. It was probably just a dying woman who was trying to keep her family history alive by telling it to someone, and Kathleen didn’t mind. She might’ve lost the need to write, but she still enjoyed hearing people’s stories. While she was sitting there, listening to Pamela, she’d realized that the need to hear stories had come long before her urge to write. Most likely she’d just wanted those because her own story was so crappy when she was younger. In a way it still was, b
ut she’d managed to steer away from it. Reading fictional books had never really done it for her; she’d wanted real people’s real-life stories from a pretty early age. Both the good and the bad ones. It was comforting for her to know that her life was somewhere in the middle of the shit-spectrum—not great, but not all that bad either.
They stayed for about an hour, but she promised Pamela she’d come back again, and she intended to keep her promise. She also promised she’d come by without Mace, to give them some time for a ‘proper talk’ as Pamela called it.
Mace took her hand when they walked out of the hospital.
“Thank you.”
“I like her.”
He laughed. “You two are very similar people. Just realized that, and it freaked me out a little.”
Kathleen laughed and looked at his hand. “So, you’ve introduced me to your mom, you’re holding my hand, does this mean we’re going steady?”
“Hell yeah.” He put an arm around her and pulled her in for a kiss. “I’d tell you you’re my woman, but I got a feeling you’d turn around and walk away if I did.”
“Depends,” she admitted, and grabbed his hair. “Would it mean you’re my man?”
“Yeah,” he said and stopped them in the middle of the hallway. “I thought you were a crazy feminist.”
“I wouldn’t say ‘crazy,’ but I’m a feminist. Does that bother you?”
“No.” He laughed when she cocked her eyebrow. “So you’re not gonna do a crazy feminist attack if I say you’re my woman?”
“It’s about equality, Mace. I’m your woman if you’re my man, and we follow the same rules. No special rules for you just ‘cause you have a dick.”
“I’m game,” Mace smiled. “And for the record, I’m not fucking anyone else, and I’m not planning to.”
“Good. Then I’m your woman.”
“And I’m your man,” he said without hesitation and gave her a kiss. “Thanks again. It meant a lot to her.”
“It’s pretty sweet. How you are with your mom, I mean.” They started walking again. “Did she raise you alone?”
“No. My dad died ten years ago, and they were married until he died. You never talk about your parents.”
She’d been waiting for it, and she’d tried to think of something to say, but figured that being honest was the easiest way to go about it. It didn’t take a genius to understand that family was important to Mace, no matter what problems he had with his brother. It seemed to be a thing to all of the Marauders. Not that she’d met anyone else, but he talked about the other guys’ families as if they were his own. She knew more about their kids than she knew about her own nieces and nephews.
Speed of Light (Marauders #3.5) Page 11