Thunder (Hell's Handlers MC 10)

“After that, you’ll be passed out in a sugar coma.” Mak laughed. Nothing like sweets and animated movies to get her normally shy sister running her mouth like a chatterbox. She pulled the shopping cart to a stop behind her car. “Remember, I told you ice cream or a few cookies. Not both.”

“I know,” Kara said in a tone that let Makenna know the issue wasn’t dead. Not by a long shot.

“I yike cookies!” Emmie said from her seat in the cart.

The seven-year-old Kara would be lobbying for a second treat the moment she finished her first. Mak couldn’t begrudge her the move. Whenever frustrated with the kids for classic kid behaviors, she reminded herself the annoyance was a privilege. Giving her siblings a stable and normal childhood experience had been the goal. Arguing over snacks seemed a pretty good indicator of normal when it came to children.

After loading the groceries in the trunk, while Kara continued to chatter on about the movies they planned to watch once home, Mak turned to grab Emmie. “Ready to get in your seat, Ems?”

“And eat cookies?” Emmie asked with the most hopeful grin.

“When we get home.” She scooped the toddler up.

“Well, hello there, you pretty little thing, what’s your name?” The slightly familiar male voice had Mak whirling around as she clutched Emmie close. Immediately, her chest constricted, and her mouth dried up. Kneeling in front of Kara was none other than Crank, the asshole who’d propositioned her in the CDMC clubhouse. The one the Handlers cautioned was as dangerous as they came.

He wore his cut with ripped jeans and worn boots. The enforcer patch on the left side of his chest might as well have been a blinking warning sign. But it was the sinister gleam in his eyes that had Mak reaching for her sister.

“I’m Kara,” the little girl said, earning herself a very stern lecture about stranger danger later. “You have a vest like Thunder. Are you his friend?” She reached forward as though to finger a patch on his chest.

Shit. Mak slapped Kara’s hand away, making her sister jump and stare at her with horrified eyes. “Kara, honey, why don’t you get in the car, okay?” she asked, snatching her sister out of the lethal man’s reach.

Forget two desserts, she’d let Kara eat the entire carton of ice cream if she’d just get the hell in the car. “Let me talk to the man by myself.” Her heart raced in her chest like a stampeding elephant. Any attempt at controlling her anxiety failed; the fear was too strong.

Thank God, Kara seemed to pick up on the urgency in her tone because she obeyed without so much as a huff of annoyance.

“Here, take Emmie with you.” She set the toddler on the ground, keeping an eye on Crank the whole time. He’d straightened from his crouched position and had propped himself against the trunk of her car. Whether his lips had curled in amusement or menace remained to be seen.

Kara grabbed Emmie’s hand and tugged her to the car.

“I don’t wanna,” Emmie said in an exaggerated whine, indicating a tantrum was coming.

“Just go with Kara now, and I’ll give you two extra cookies.” World’s best parent right there. But the bribe worked, and this certainly qualified as extenuating circumstances. Emmie stopped fussing and climbed into the car with Kara, squealing about her upcoming cookies.

The second the car door shut, her smile flattened, and she glared at Crank.

His grin only expanded. In fact, the expression made him look like a hungry shark, teeth bared and malice in his gaze. “Thunder, huh?” He stroked his stubbled chin. “I’ve heard of a guy by that name. Hmm, I’m trying to remember…”

Mak clenched her teeth, breathing only through her nose. He wanted to play with her. Make her squirm. Same as the men who’d threatened her in the past. Her father, her husband, most men from the community she’d grown up in. Part of her wanted to cower in fear, but the instinct to protect her sisters trumped her memories of being at the mercy of evil men. She straightened her shoulders and forced a bored expression though inside, she shook and shivered. “What do you want?”

He snapped his fingers as though a light bulb had flicked on in his head. “Oh, now I remember. He’s a Handler.” The mocking tone disappeared, and he took a step into her personal space. Same as the other night, the putrid stench of cigarettes, sweat, and weed assaulted her senses. “He your ol’ man? He send you to my club to fuckin’ spy on us?”

“N-no.” Damnit, there went fearless. All she could think of were the two children gawking at them through the rear windshield as intently as they’d planned to watch movies that evening. “I—I’m nothing to him. Or any of them. I work at the diner. It’s a job. That’s all. I don’t know anything about their club. I needed money, and I’m friends with Kristy. That’s it. Nothing else.”