Page 3 of Bad for You (MacKenzie Scottish Crime Family 3)

I scrub a hand over my face. “Alright, shut the feck up. Aye, River’s probably not coming tonight—”

I’m slapped with a few defiant, “Boooooos.”

He’s the only fighter these fucks have embraced as their own. His not showing is a blow. On account of him being good people and a friend from my old high school, I won’t slaughter him for flaking tonight.

I snort, cutting into the heckling. “We still have three more fights, but now the main event is Lane against every fecking body. Lassies, are you ready to jump into the ring?”

A group of cheerleaders clasps the ropes. I shake my head, laughing at them. “Wait, lasses. Let’s give him a few minutes to wake up.”

I climb down. Courtney’s rounded up the tech crew in charge of getting the Green Room ready.

Amir says, “Five more minutes on my end. I’ll announce the Green Room when you’re ready, Cam, Court.”

I drop my hands on Courtney’s shoulders, squeezing softly. “I fixed your problem, Court. Don’t fucking ask about River tonight. If he comes, he’ll slaughter Lane too.”

“Thank you. Can I go?” Her brown eyes plead with me.

“Yes, Court.” Scurry to your corner, sweetheart. Right before the DuPont students enter the Green Room, Courtney links our cameras to the dark web. Sometimes we have a theme night where everyone gets a mask—they pay out of the fucking ass for that—at other times, Court will add a facial glimmer before linking to the deep web. DuPont’s future politicians and judges would hate for sex tapes to ruin their lives.

The moment she scrams, two chicks start over to me. “You knocked Lane out,” one states the obvious.

“Why don’t you fight River?” another asks. The sparkle in her eyes says she’d love to be sandwiched between River and me. I’ve my doubts she can take a dick in the cunt and in the ass.

Without a word, I stroll toward the dancing area. I’ve had it up to my eyebrows with insipid small talk and giggly flirts. I don’t have a tolerance for fighting. When I hit a man, it’s to bring him down permanently.

Where’s the Cheerleader Barbie I was fucking with earlier?She’ll satisfy me for now. Later, Lane will learn the magnitude of his errors. The street urchin won’t be missed. Even if he weren’t on the streets, it wouldn’t matter. Though I may not be a rich fuck from Los Angeles, I’m Clan MacKenzie. We don’t have limits. I glance back toward the ring where Lane’s grousing awake. He’s about to be jumped by the crowd. But he’s not dead yet. Not only did he play these DuPont freaks, but he also fucked over a MacKenzie—he’s as good as dead.

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