Thunder (Hell's Handlers MC #10) - Lilly Atlas Page 0,117

to find a sweet note from Thunder on his pillow. Copper had needed him for some task, so he’d taken off, letting her know he’d meet up with her at the house as soon as he’d finished. The note concluded with a lopsided heart and a sentence about how much fun he’d had the night before.

And he’d called her beautiful.

Ugh.

Ending their short relationship was going to destroy her.

And possibly him.

Everyone in the club would view her as a bitch, deservedly so. A shrew, who’d strung along a man they love for no good reason.

How would she show her face at the diner tomorrow morning? Would she have to find a new job?

Hopefully not. The thought sent a shiver of fear through her. It had been hard enough to find this one.

“Mak, why are you still standing out there?” Amy yelled from the hallway.

“I’m coming.” Poised to step into the house, a car door slammed behind her, making her jump and turn on reflex. Someone from the club sat across the street in a truck, but it was Kristy’s arrival that drew her attention. “Morning, Kristy,” she said with a wave as her friend and neighbor climbed out of her car.

Mak narrowed her eyes. Was she walking with a limp? And why the hell did she have enormous oversized sunglasses on? Dark gray clouds loomed overhead, announcing the impending arrival of a predicted storm.

When all Kristy did was lift a hand in response, Mak grew worried. When the hell had that extroverted woman ever missed an opportunity to share some gossip? “You okay?” she called out as she jogged across the narrow strip of grass separating their houses. “Oh, my God, Kristy! You’re hurt.”

Despite the sunglasses engulfing the majority of Kristy’s face, they weren’t large enough to hide extensive bruising. Without asking permission, Mak reached up and snatched the glasses off Kristy’s face. She sucked in a breath at the sight of the dark purple, near black, bruising around her friend’s right eye. Deep purple and bluish bruises mottled the right side of her jaw as well. Dried blood crusted in the corner of her mouth.

“Shh,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at the Handler’s prospect on protective duty that day.

Thankfully he seemed more interested in his phone than their conversation.

Some bodyguard.

“I’m okay, honey. Nothing some Motrin, vodka, and a bed won’t fix. And not necessarily in that order.”

How could she be so calm? The way she held herself stiff and limped with each step meant more damage in areas not visible. Someone had beaten her and done a hell of a job of it. “Who did this? I can call Thunder. The club will help you. You know that.”

Kristy reached out and squeezed Mak’s hand. If Mak hadn’t been paying such close attention, she’d have missed the slight tremor in Kristy’s fingers. She’d thought her friend unshakable, but being on the receiving end of an angry man’s fists could crush even the most impenetrable rock.

“Thank you, Mak, you’re sweet, but it’s not necessary. This sometimes happens in my line of work.” She shrugged then flinched as though the simple movement pained her a great deal.

With a shake of her head, Mak said, “No, that’s not acceptable.” Memories of being in Kristy’s exact position had her unable to ignore the problem. Mak knew firsthand the pain her friend was experiencing. Not only physical pain but fear, shame, disbelief, despair. The moment she escaped community property, she’d vowed never to let another man put his hands on her in anger, and that promise extended to every woman she knew. “I’m calling Thunder.”

“Don’t,” Kristy said, her voice cracking. She cleared her throat. “Please. It’ll just make it worse. They’ve already had enough trouble with the CDMC. I’m not going to be the cause of more. The Handlers have always been good to me.”

A cold rush of terror shot up Makenna’s spine. Leaning close, she whispered, “This was the CDMC?” She swallowed a lump rising in her throat as a thought made her dizzy with dread. “Was it…did it have to do with me?”

“What? No.” Kristy shook her head. Her high ponytail sagged to the side, flopping with the motion. “Crank wants me to spy on the Handlers. I refused. He didn’t take it well.” She dropped her voice low though they didn’t run the risk of being overheard. Mak’s bodyguard couldn’t hear from his position and hadn’t lifted his gaze from his cell.

“Shit, Kristy. Are you in danger now? Will they come after