Spark of Hope: MacKenny Brothers Series Book 3: An MC/Band of Brothers Romance

by Kathleen Kelly

  Chuckling, I start my bike and pull away from the curb.

  Kyle

  It’s late, and the kid, Logan, glares at me from across the shitty table we’re sitting at. It has a wooden top with initials of patrons carved into its surface, and it’s sticky to touch. Being Sunday night, there’s a steady stream of customers coming and going. Most give us the once-over and steer clear.

  Sean has a glass of what appears to be vodka in front of him, but I know it’ll have only water in the tumbler. I’ve been nursing a beer that’s gone warm, and Cutter, well, he’s at the pool tables making a mint. He’s a shark. I learned long ago not to play him for money.

  “How long have you been with Lola?”

  I glance at Logan. “Four years.”

  “Is she your old lady?”

  I chuckle at him and shake my head. “No. But she’s mine.”

  “Mom said you probably share her around.”

  “No.”

  Sean laughs. “He’d fuck anyone up that even looks at Lola the wrong way. Why do you think he’s here, kid? He’d never go to all this trouble for a fuck.”

  “Enough!” I hold up my hand to Sean. “Logan, I have footage of Lola being knocked out and put into a van. She didn’t go willingly. If I show you the recording, do you think you’d know who they were?”

  Logan shrugs. “Lola can take care of herself.”

  “You keep saying that.”

  He shrugs again. “I’ve been here for over three months, and she’s visited me twice. Keeps calling and saying she’s going to talk to you about me. But you didn’t even know I existed before today, did you?”

  There’s so much hurt in his eyes.

  “No, she didn’t tell me about you. I don’t know why.” Finding the footage on my cell, I hit play and hold it out for him. “Just watch.”

  When it’s finished, he puts his hands to his eyes and rubs them. “They weren’t supposed to hurt her.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Do you know them?”

  He nods and looks at me, and then his eyes go to the door of the bar. Logan tenses and I follow his gaze to a guy who’s just walked in.

  Without turning his head, Sean asks Logan. “Is that him?”

  “Yeah. He’s the one with the black jacket on.”

  Sean nods, taps the table then stands. I only have eyes for David, and when his gaze connects with mine, his eyes widen, and he runs for the door.

  Fuck it.

  We all move, and I grab Logan by the arm, propelling him with me. The kid doesn’t try to resist, which I’m thankful for. It’s dark out, and we peel off in three different directions searching for David. A car starts, and with a screech of burning rubber it leaves the parking lot. I’m on the back of my bike, and Logan climbs on behind me. For a kid who didn’t want to have anything to do with us, he seems all-in now. I don’t wait for Sean or Cutter and follow the car into the dark night.

  David makes a series of turns as he tries to lose us. I turn off my headlight in an attempt to make him think he’s succeeded. It’s a dangerous move, especially with a kid on the back of my bike, but I need to find Lola. Eventually, the car pulls into a warehouse, where he quickly shuts the doors. I park, pull out my cell, and call Sean.

  “Where the fuck are you?”

  “I’m over in the industrial part of town, where your friend Chilli works. I think I’m one street over from his garage.”

  Chilli is an acquaintance of Sean’s who chops up cars and sells them. We use him from time to time if we can’t get a specific part for a car.

  “Come in quietly.” I pull the cell away from my ear and stare at Logan. “Can you wait at the end of the street for Sean?” He nods, climbs off my bike, and jogs away. “Logan will be waiting at the end of the street.”

  “You sure the kid won’t leave you high and dry?”

  “Nah, there’s something going on with him. He’ll tell us soon enough.”

  Climbing off my bike, I put my cell in my jacket and jog toward the building. There are no windows out front, so I make my way around the side of the building. There isn’t any noise emanating from inside, but I can see light shining through a window at the far end, so I make my way down an alley to it. Peering inside, I find David leaning against the trunk of his car, cell phone in hand, and he puts it to his ear. From my position, I can’t hear what he’s saying, but from the way he’s waving his arms around, I can tell he’s not happy.

  David hangs up and puts his cell in his jacket pocket. He runs his hands over his face a couple of times, then goes into what appears to be an office. I jog back to the front of the building as Sean, Cutter, and Logan arrive on foot. Their bikes must be parked at the end of the street.

  “I couldn’t see anyone else in there. Cutter, you go around back, find a way in that way. Sean and I will head in through the front door,” I whisper.

  “What about me?” asks Logan.

  “You get to wait out here and keep out of trouble.”

  He looks like he’s going to argue with me, then changes his mind and shrugs. “Whatever.”

  “I mean it. Stay here.” I lock eyes with him for a moment, and Sean slaps my chest. He has his gun out, and I pull mine out too.

  Sean pushes on one of the doors, opening it enough so we can slip in through the crack. The door makes a loud screeching noise as it slides, so David is going to know he’s got company.

  “Who’s there?” a voice yells out.

  “I’m looking for a David Tucker,” I yell back.

  Sean has his gun up, he’s holding onto it with two hands, and he signals with a head gesture that he’s going to advance further into the warehouse.

  “Who are you?”

  “The name’s Kyle MacKenny.”

  “Shit. You’re that biker.”

  “That’d be me. You’re David, right?”

  “It wasn’t me.”

  Sean moves to the left, and when he’s out of my line of sight, I copy his movements and advance. It’s not good if he’s in front of me, and I accidentally shoot him.

  “What wasn’t you?”

  David steps out of the office, arms raised. “I didn’t take Lola. They…” he pauses as he spots Sean. “They asked me to help, but I said no. Lola has always been nice to me.”

  Cutter emerges from behind a drum holding a finger to his lips, so neither Sean nor I acknowledge his existence, and quietly he approaches David. I hold up my gun and put it back in its holster in a placating gesture. “Okay, man. Who took Lola?”

  David reaches behind his back, but Cutter grabs his arm and pulls it up, twisting, then bends him over a workbench. The man screams, and I’m not sure if it’s from pain or surprise.

  Cutter takes a gun off him and holds it up. “Look what I found,” he quips gleefully.

  Sean advances, takes the gun off Cutter, all the while keeping his gun trained on David. I move in and signal for Cutter to let him go. He straightens up, rubbing his arm and looking wildly around the room.

  “Be calm. Just tell us what we want to know.”

  “It’s Yvette. It’s all her. Once they started talking about using Lola, I was out.”

  “How were they going to use Lola?” I ask.

  “To get to you.” I raise my eyebrows and put my hands on my hips. “It’s true.”

  “How?”

  “She owes a debt. Yvette doesn’t care about Lola. She never has.”

  “That’s a fucking lie!” yells Logan from the front of the warehouse.

  I hold up a hand, but the kid keeps coming. He runs straight into my hand, causing me to rock back on one foot, then tries to get around me.

  “She’s not like that! Mom loves Lola. She wouldn’t do that!”

  “Mom? So, Yvette is your mom?” asks David.

  Logan stops trying to get around me. His eyes are filled with tears. “She wouldn’t.”

  With my hand on his shoulder, I stare at David. “Why did she want to get to me?”

  “She di
dn’t,” yells Logan.

  “They figured you’d pay what she owes.”

  Logan wrenches himself away from me and runs toward the front of the building.

  “Sean, you find out what we need to know.” I point at Cutter. “Sean’s in charge. You follow his lead. You feel me?”

  “I get it. I’m not allowed to kill the snitch,” replies Cutter in a bored tone.

  “Where are you going?” asks Sean.

  I point in the direction Logan ran. “To find the kid.”

  By the time I get on my bike, he’s run to the end of the street and around the corner. Pulling up beside him, I match his pace with my bike.

  “Get on, kid.”

  “I’m not a kid!”

  I nod. “Fair enough. Get on, Logan.”

  “Fuck you!”

  I’m tired, I’m worried about Lola, and I don’t have time to be babysitting a kid who wants to argue with me. Speeding ahead, I park my bike, get off, and when he gets to me, I shove him back, hard. So hard, he lands on his butt.

  “You’re an asshole!”

  “Look, Logan. All I want is Lola. You are Lola’s brother, so that makes me sort of responsible for you.” I hold out my hand and stare into his eyes. “Get on the fucking bike.”

  Logan slaps my hand and gets to his feet himself. “She’s not my sister.”

  Scrubbing a hand over my face, I put my hands on my hips and look up at the sky. I don’t fucking have time for this.

  “Okay, Logan. Yvette is Lola’s mom. Yvette is also your mom, so that kinda makes her your sister. Unless, of course, I’m missing something?”

  His eyes are glued to the ground and shuffles his feet, then he puts his hands in his pockets.

  Frustrated with him, I let out a growl and ball one of my hands into a fist. “Get on the fucking bike, kid. Now,” I order him.

  With defiance in his eyes, he takes a step back. “She’s my mother!”

  Shocked at his outburst, I move toward him, shaking my head. “No. She’d have told me.”

  “Yeah, like she told you I existed? You keep telling yourself that. I told you Lola can take care of herself, she always has, but Yvette, she needs me.”

  I let out a sigh. There’s conviction in his voice, and as he speaks, Logan straightens and squares his shoulders. If nothing else, he believes what he’s saying.

  “Well, if Yvette needs you, get on the bike. We can talk to her together.”

  “You’ll take me back to her?”

  “Fuck, kid. Get on the damn bike. Yes, I’m going to see Yvette. Either can get on the bike or walk there… I don’t care. But this conversation is over.”

  With my mind reeling, I throw my leg over my bike, then start it.

  Logan is beside me and climbs on.

  Neither of us speak as I pull away.

  Kyle

  There’s a blue Harley Fat Boy parked in front of the house. It belongs to Smokey, one of our older prospects who will probably get patched in soon. He’s proven himself to be a loyal soldier, often doing the jobs the others don’t want to do. Smokey has been on the fringes of the club for years, it’s only recently he decided he wanted to join. The man is good with anything mechanical, a great asset to the MC. Before I turn off the bike, Logan is off and running to the front door. I scope out the neighborhood, everything feels quiet.

  I climb off, and as I walk up to the house, Logan is walking backward out of it, shaking his head from side to side. Immediately, I pull out my gun, hold it with two hands at eye level, and walk toward him. Logan stumbles down the two stairs that lead to the porch, so I go past him and through the front door.

  There’s blood everywhere.

  The ceiling.

  The walls.

  The floor.

  Moving through the living room, I make my way to the kitchen, straining to hear anything that sounds out of place. There’s nothing except my breathing and footsteps. Smokey is sitting at the kitchen table. His hands are limp at his sides, and blood pools around the chair. I do a sweep of the kitchen and come back to him, putting two fingers to his neck, but I know even as I do this, he’s dead. Smokey’s eyes are open but not seeing, his guts has been pulled out onto the table, and a knife is sticking out of his chest.

  Whatever happened, it appears as though it started in the living room and ended here. Walking back through the house, I check the bedrooms, and there’s no sign of Yvette. Logan is standing out near my bike, still shaking his head and has tears running down his face.

  “D-Do you think they killed her?” he whispers.

  “No. If they did, she’d be here.”

  Pulling out my cell, I call Sean.

  “Yeah?”

  “Smokey’s dead.”

  “What the fuck?” roars Sean. “Are you safe?”

  “Whoever did it is long gone. They gutted him.”

  Sean does sharp intake of breath and a low murmur of, “Who?”

  Moving away from Logan, I lower my voice. “Yvette isn’t here.”

  “You think they took her?”

  “No.”

  “You think she did it?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. Yes.”

  “Fucking cunt.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Anyone see you?”

  Looking around the neighborhood, it’s quiet, and no one is around. “I don’t think so.”

  “Leave. Go to the clubhouse. Get a fucking alibi from one of the brothers.”

  “And the kid?”

  “He knows too much. Bring him. We can’t have you implicated in this. Cutter and I will fix this shit. Leave now.”

  Sean is ex-military, a decorated Marine, in the Special Forces. When shit hits the fan, he’s the guy you go to, and this is officially classified as shit hitting the fucking fan. Putting my cell in my pocket, I climb on my bike, and Logan gets on behind me without me having to ask or argue with him.

  Miracles do fucking happen!

  We pull into the compound, and Wheels walks out. I can tell from the irate look on his face that he’s pissed at being sidelined. Holding up my hand, I stare at Logan.

  “Go inside, turn right, head down the hallway. The last door on the left is mine. Go shower, put on some of my clothes, and wait for me there.”

  Logan nods—probably still in shock—and like a robot, he mechanically walks into the clubhouse and does what he’s told.

  “Who the fuck is that?”

  “Lola’s brother, I think.”

  “You think?”

  Shaking my head, I shrug. “You tell me. Did we do a fucking background check on Lola or what? ‘Cause the kid believes she’s his mother.”

  Wheels’ mouth drops open, and he quickly closes it. “I had Diesel do a fucking background check. There was nothing.”

  “Well, maybe he didn’t dig hard enough.”

  “Or maybe he isn’t hers.”

  “Well, Wheels, that’s what we need to find out. It was a piss poor background check if we missed a brother or a child, wasn’t it?” I’m tired, but I know I can’t sleep. I am so agitated.

  He opens his mouth to speak and quickly shuts it in a hard line. Without another word, I take the steps two at a time, and walk into the clubhouse. Angus is in the meeting room, so I turn and sit at the long table. He has his cell to his ear, and when I peg him with a scowl, he hangs up.

  “Lola’s got some explaining to do,” he says in his best accent. “You okay, brother?”

  Wheels isn’t within earshot, so I say, “Smokey’s dead.”

  “I know, I’ve been talking to Sean.” Angus stares past me to Wheels. “You wanna get him a drink and something to eat?”

  Wheels opens his mouth to say something, glances at me, then does an about-face, and heads for the kitchen.

  “You’re not one of us, brother. Don’t talk to my men like that.”

  “And who’s fault is it that I’m not one of you? Fuck you, Kyle, I’ve been around this club my whole life.”

  “You’re
my brother, and I love you, but don’t be telling my men what to do. If they decide to put you on your ass, I’m not going to help.” Scrubbing my hands over my face. I ask, “What have you found out?”

  “It’s taken a little longer than I thought to track the van’s movements.” Angus frowns and turns his laptop toward me, then moves his seat closer to mine and sits. “I lose them when they head out west… no cameras out that way. I’ve got an algorithm set up, so if they pass any cameras, and it captures the plate, I’ll be pinged, and we’ll know about it. I’ve been retracing their steps.” He points to the screen. “They were here for a long time. It’s a garage on the other side of town, and I did some digging. It’s a front for the Rocha family.”

  Fuck.

  The Rocha family is a Columbian drug cartel that has branches in most major cities in the US, but our town is small. We shouldn’t even register on their radar. I’ve kept the Loyal Rebels out of the drug trade. We’ve carved out a niche for ourselves selling reconditioned motorcycles and cars—mostly Harleys and muscle cars— but sometimes you’ll get a collector who wants an old Chevy refurbished. We have a name in the business and sell to customers all over the country. Occasionally, we acquire cars on the down-low to chop up and sell but never in our hometown. They are always from out of state.

  “Why is the Rocha family here?”

  Angus shrugs and turns his laptop toward himself and types. “I think they use this as sort of a mid-point to other destinations. I’ve done a little digging, and from what I can gather, they are the main suppliers for the area but compared to the rest of the country, we’re small change.”

  “Did Lola’s cell give us anything?”

  Angus taps his chin, then leans forward as he bangs his fingers a little harder than he should on his laptop. Turning the screen around, he points to what I assume is Lola’s call history.

  “She makes multiple calls a day to her mother. Most are short, under five minutes. The last phone conversation was yesterday morning, and it went for over thirty minutes. That’s unusual. Do you think her mother knows something?”

  Wheels comes in with a hot cup of coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs and puts it in front of me.