The Sweetest Revenge Read Online Free Page A

expressions of the three men told Abigail that very few males would question that excuse, let alone their male chauvinist pig of a boss. They nodded and, with a final check to make sure the Ducati was firmly on its stand, they headed indoors.
    As soon as the door was closed behind them — though not fully, or she wouldn’t be able to get back in — Abigail turned to the bike, beaming from ear to ear. She had to hold herself back from squealing, clapping her hands and jumping around like an excitable child. So far, her plan had gone off without a hitch and now, she hoped, she was about to reap the rewards — Mackenzie’s reaction.
    Creeping to the corner of the building, she peered around it. Her timing was perfect. She watched as Mackenzie exited the offices, her face clearly showing her annoyance at having been made to wait around. It took a couple of seconds before she realised she was stomping across the car park towards...absolutely nothing. Abigail stifled a giggle as Mackenzie’s mouth dropped open in the exaggerated fashion of a cartoon character’s. The other woman’s eyes narrowed, and she looked around the car park, clearly expecting to see evidence of what had happened, or a witness. Unfortunately for her, the only witness was also the instigator, and wasn’t going to say a word.
    Mackenzie started to walk around the car park, peering behind some of the bigger, bulkier cars, as though expecting to find her beloved motorcycle hiding behind one of them. Of course, she didn’t find it, and after a few minutes of fruitless searching, she stormed back into the offices.
    Abigail sucked in a breath. She hadn’t been expecting that. Honestly, she hadn’t really thought too much about what would happen after Mackenzie’s initial discovery that her bike was gone, and now she realised her mistake. In getting the guys involved, she risked them telling the courier exactly what had happened. Mackenzie’s pissed-off look was pretty damn terrifying, and she wouldn’t blame them for spilling the beans. It had been funny at first, but now after seeing the woman’s reaction first hand, she realised perhaps she’d taken things a bit too far. Maybe hiding her gloves or helmet would have been okay — seen as a joke — but the whole bike? Definitely over the top.
    Abigail ducked back around the corner — despite there now being nobody to see her — and leaned against the wall, her heart pounding. She looked at the bike and forced her brain to come up with something. What should she do next? Stay with the bike until Mackenzie actually found it — presuming she ever did — and give her snarkiest “ha ha!”; run back into the offices and plead ignorance; or find the courier and confess what she’d done, before things went too far?
    The door a few feet away from her flying open and slamming back against the wall made Abigail jump, and her heart leapt painfully. Her pulse grew even faster, especially when she saw an incensed-looking Mackenzie step out into the alleyway. She looked at the younger woman wide-eyed, and flattened herself against the wall, as though she could disguise or hide herself against the rough bricks. Ridiculous, she knew, but anyone faced with an incredibly angry redhead in motorcycle leathers would have the same reaction. Unless they too, were terrifying. Which Abigail most certainly was not.
    The cogs in her brain were still turning, desperately trying to come up with a reaction. Something to say, something to do. But fear, it seemed, had paralysed her thought processes as well as her body. And the longer she did nothing, the worse it got. A few seconds of silence between the two women felt like forever, and Abigail felt like she was two breaths away from breaking down in tears, getting down on bended knees and begging forgiveness. Even though Mackenzie had deserved it, she just wanted to end this crazy, scary tension