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He jogged up beside Mack but when he tried to put a hand on his arm, Mack jerked away so roughly it made Liam stumble.
“What the fuck?” Liam said. Then he breathed out. Mack just kept walking and Liam gritted his teeth and then jogged after him again.
“Look, I’m sorry for how shite went down last night. I should have come right back to you and Calla like I said I would. But things are bad with me da. He might not even be me real da. I might be the son of the fecking stableman. And then Brigid, the woman, she was there to complicate shite and— Jaysus, would you just stop for a second and listen to me? I’m trying to apologize here.”
Mack stopped and whirled on him. Liam took a step back at the look of mottled rage on his face. What the—
“You think I care about your bullshit rich boy daddy issues? Wake the fuck up!” Mack yelled, throwing out his arms. “Some people have real fucking problems.”
“Why do you always have to be such a shite about everything?” Liam fired back. “I’m sorry if me problems are too white-collar for ya.”
Mack got right up in his face. “Admit it. You’re gonna make up with your dad and then drop Calla because that’s what rich, self-entitled users like you do. The help is good for a fuck but that’s it, right? Isn’t that what you told me?”
Liam pulled back, sneering in disgust and shaking his head. “I can’t believe I felt bad for walking out on you last night. You’re a piece of shite who can’t see something good when it’s right in your face. You’re so busy being sure everyone in the world is out to get you. Calla deserves so much.”
A shadow crossed Mack’s face but then he threw his hands up again. “I don’t have time for this bullshit.” He turned and resumed walking away.
“Excuse me, are you Liam O’Neill?” Liam’s attention was jerked away from Mackenzie’s disappearing form by a woman sticking a microphone in his face. “Son of media mogul Sean O’Neill and Irish Film and Television Award winning actress Ailis O’Neill?”
Shite. How had the fucking paparazzi found out he was here?
“Is it true you’ve been having an affair with Isobel Snow? Last year’s Missing Heiress?”
“What?” Liam asked, then shook his head, trying to edge around the woman. She just moved in front of him again.
“There are reports of you and Isobel in a cozy cuddle last night at the Mile High Bar and Grill. Can you confirm or deny these rumors?”
Isobel? What the fuck were they on about? Jaysus, these fucking vultures would make up anything for a story.
Which was nothing to what would happen if they sniffed out the actual truth.
Shite. He headed toward a side entrance to the arena.
He had to find Calla. Now.
Chapter Thirty
CALLA
“Mack! I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Calla said, hurrying up to him as he yanked the safety chains off the trailer and then disconnected the wiring cable.
He jerked upright and for a second, Calla had the strangest feeling Mack was about to get in the truck and slam the door right in her face. But then he paused and leaned back over, lifting the coupler off the ball hitch. He kept his face averted. Why couldn’t he look at her?
“What?” Calla asked in alarm. “What’s happened? Is Liam okay?”
“That snob will always be just fine.” Mack’s voice was full of acrimony as he dropped the trailer hitch.
“Did you two have another fight?” She followed on his heels as he walked around to the driver’s side and got up in the cab. She wedged herself in the open door. He would not be going anywhere until she got some answers.
Mack just shook his head. “Look, it doesn’t matter.” He looked forward through the windshield, jaw working. “It’s time for me to move on, that’s all.”
Move on? Like…
“You’re leaving?” She could barely get the words past her suddenly dry throat.
Mack looked down and then away. “I always said I would.” He tossed the wrench he’d been using on the hitch into the passenger side floorboards. “It was time I was hitting the road.”
Calla could only stare on in confusion. “But Torpedo. You have to show him today. This doesn’t make any sense. Where are you even—”
