Page 99 of The Heir

“Marchella?” I squinted at the mustang as it rolled at a snail's pace and bumped into Mackie’s bike.

May hissed like it had physically hurt him.

“I’ll beat her ass,” Mackie announced before tearing off at breakneck speed.

“Wha–?” I snapped into motion behind him, barely having time to process what he’d said.

I was a little winded by the time we got back to that side of the lot, so when he rounded the mustang, I slid my ass right across the hood in an effort to get between him and my wife.

I wasn’t fast enough, though, he was pissed!

He ripped the door open and just as he grabbed her, I threw my arm around his neck from behind and dropped my weight. His breath left in an audible rush, and he landed on top of me like a fucking boulder, with the woman sprawled on top of him. My eyes snapped closed at the impact and I gasped in an ugly, deep way.

“Holy shit, holy shit,” May sang as he scrambled to join us.

He slowed and sounded confused when he asked, “W–who the fuck is that, March?”

I realized Mackie hadn’t killed me and hesitantly opened my eyes to see a very disheveled, and battered woman before us. Her green eyes were haunting. Her strawberry-blonde hair hung in greasy clumps and when May helped her right herself, I couldn’t help but notice that she was visibly pregnant.

Mackie was staring up at her like he’d seen a ghost. His face was frozen in this horrified expression, but his eyes were so soft. He’d put a hand to the pavement, and lifted his torso, but he was still very much sprawled over me.

“Nikki?” he quietly asked, while shifting his weight in an effort to get up.

I groaned and moved to keep him from inadvertently grinding my hip further into the pavement.

“Get the fuck off me!” he snapped, shrugging me away.

He shot to his feet and slowly gathered the woman in his arms. She clung to him and quietly sobbed. I was so stunned by such a show of concern coming from him that I just laid there and watched as he touched her face and searched her over for more injuries. Her eye socket was purple, and she had a terrible gasoline smell coming off of her.

“Who the fuck is that?” I quietly asked Marchella when she came around the car and offered me a hand.

I refused it and rocked to my feet, dusting pebbles off my elbow and shirt as I did so.

“Nikki Roberts. She was his first girlfriend when we were kids,” Marchella whispered.

“I’m sorry. I was scared and I didn’t–” Nikki’s voice was so distressed and thick with emotion I had to think about the sounds after she made them to catch her meaning and words. “I didn’t know where to turn, Mack. You— you’re the last place I felt safe and right and I–”

Mackie brought her in close and shushed her, stroking her hair and back while the woman collapsed against him and cried.

“Let’s get her inside. I can get her some ice water and something to clean up with,” March suggested.

“Yeah,” Mackie threw the word out there “Yeah, let’s get you inside.”

May and I slowly headed up the rear as the group of us gravitated toward the clubhouse.

Mak spun around in a hurry when we entered, clearly not having expected anyone. He weaved his head to see who all was coming inside. Once the door closed, he grunted, “You fuckers know the party ain’t ‘til the weekend, right?”

“What party?” May squeaked.

“I don’t know. I’m sure you mother fucker’s will think of an excuse before then–” His words trailed off when Mackie drew close with Nikki in his arms. He didn’t speak to her, but his head slowly swiveled to stalk the couple all the way to the office.

“Is that–?” he started to ask Marchella.

“Yep,” she cut him off.

“Damn. Girl lookin’ rough as hell,” he scoffed.

Marchella popped him on the arm, and he bugged his eyes and threw his hands out like he didn’t understand what had upset her.