Page 179 of By His Rule

Makenzie: Traitor. Come and rescue me and I’ll let you off.

Kian: Blackmail, really?

Makenzie: Come on, old man. You know you don’t have a better offer.

She adds a load of praying emojis, and before I’m aware that I’ve made a decision, I’ve saved what I’m doing and turned my monitor off.

Kian: You have thirty minutes.

Makenzie: Yessssss!

After changing out of my suit in my private bathroom, I head out toward the elevator.

The reception area is empty and silent, and I can’t help but be drawn to Lorelei’s desk.

Everything is perfectly tidy. It has been ever since I pointed out her mistake on day one.

The only thing that sits on the top is a notebook.

Fucking notebooks.

I’ve no idea how many she has, but this is another that I’ve never seen before.

It reads, “Too busy for your bullshit.”

Shaking my head, I refrain from putting it away.

She’ll know it was me, and she’ll know that she’s getting to me.

It does spark an idea, though.

As I descend through the building, I make two calls. One to secure something to put an end to Kenzie’s boredom for an hour, and another to my graphic designer.

You want to play, Lorelei?

You chose the wrong opponent.

“Oh my god,” Kenzie screams as I take the corner too wide and the car's back end spins out. I knew it was coming, but it still made my heart lurch in my chest. “This is awesome,” she squeals as I right the car and floor it down the straight.

I’ve been coming out here to burn off steam for years. Usually alone, though.

Kenzie has been begging me to bring her out with me. She’s an adrenaline junkie—something we have in common.

She’s already asked me if we can do a parachute jump for her eighteenth birthday.

I haven’t broached the subject with our mom—not that her opinion will matter much to Kenzie. When she sets her sights on something, it usually happens.

Apparently, it’s a family trait that hasn’t just come down from our father.

Pushing the gas as hard as I can, I watch the speedometer climb higher and higher until I have to brake for the next corner.

I’ll have Mom on the phone later, ripping me a new one for bringing her here. But I’m pretty sure Kenzie needs this release just as much as I do.

Nothing but the car and the asphalt matter when you’re on the track. The rest of the world and all the issues that come with it fall away in favor of heart-racing adrenaline.

“Why are you stopping?” Kenzie complains when I finally drop the speed and head into the pits.

“Time’s up,” I say, feeling as disappointed as she sounds.

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