Page 8 of Snared Rider

Fast.

Mackenzie waves her hand to get our attention. She does this because she can’t speak and communicates using British Sign Language, or text-to-speak on her tablet.

I don’t know the exact medical jargon for what happened to her and why she can’t vocalise, only that it has something to do with her larynx not forming properly when she was in vitro.

Her parents said it was the strangest thing when she was born because she tried to cry but couldn’t make the sounds. She just pushed air from her lungs like an angry, red-faced, wrinkly little steam train. Jem loves to recount this story to anyone who will listen. Then again, Jem loves to embarrass his sisters as much as he can, which is an astounding amount.

So, we all learnt to sign—even Club president, Derek Chambers, and VP Slade can talk to her in BSL.

When Mackenzie has everyone’s attention she raises her hands together to sign, “Jem came back once he finished school,” is her unhelpful response. “You didn’t.”

I shoot her a glare, then mutter. “Hoes before bros, Kenz.”

She is right though. As soon as Jem finished his degree, he was back in Kingsley working for the Club again.

I moved to London for university and never returned other than holidays and special occasions—and even those visits are getting few and far between these days. I’m only here now because of the immense guilt trip Dad laid on me.

“Usually, you know I have your back, but my idiot brothers have a point for once.”Kenzie reaches across the table and takes my hand briefly before releasing it to sign, “We miss you. We want you home.”

“Who the hell are you calling an idiot?” Adam demands of his sister, who flashes him a smile that would see a multitude of sins forgiven.

“What’s the sign for idiot?” Weed asks, emphasising his words unnecessarily.

Adam leans across the table, jostling Becca, and punches him in the arm. “You don’t have to speak to her like she’s stupid, knobhead. She can hear you, but even if she couldn’t hear perfectly fucking well you still don’t speak to her like she’s stupid.”

“I know she can hear,” Weed mutters, rubbing where Adam thumped him. “It’s just… It’s fucking hard, okay? I don’t understand sign language, so I don’t know what the fuck she’s saying.”

“Then learn,” Dean chips in, taking a drag on his now lit cigarette.

“Maybe I will,” Weed fires back. Then he glances at Mackenzie. “Sorry, babe. No offence intended.”

She lifts her hands and signs, “None taken.”

Weed looks bemused, then asks the table, “What did she say?”

“She said you’re a wanker,” Adam lies, and Mackenzie throws a beer mat at her brother, glaring at him.

Jem has clearly had enough of his brother and Weed’s antics because he leans forward in his chair, sliding his drink onto the table and stares intently at me.

“What’s the deal with this fuckwit you’re dating?”

And here we go again. I let out a long-suffering breath before pulling my lips into a tight line. Alistair is the last person I want to talk about right now (or ever, in fact), but I know Jem; he will not let this go.

“There’s no deal with Alistair.”

This is mostly true. Neither of us want to be in Kingsley, but luckily for him he doesn’t have Jem, Adam and half the Club breathing down his neck demanding to know where the hell he’s been for the past few months.

“Yeah, then why the fuck hasn’t he come here to meet us?” Adam demands.

“I don’t know, Adam,” I mutter. “Maybe he’s worried he won’t get a warm welcome.”

Weed sits up straighter, a tattooed hand going into his short hair. “Who’s Alistair?”

“Beth’s snobby as fuck arsehole boyfriend,” Adam says without missing a beat.

“He’s not a snob,” I defend, even though he is one hundred percent a snob.

“If I was her I wouldn’t bring a boy home to you lot either,” Kenzie signs.

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