Die For You - Amarie Avant Page 0,127

into the razor. His body goes still as the blade no doubt cuts through the few brain cells he has—if any.

My eyebrows slowly stitch together, and I mutter, “Och, that was unexpected.”

I remove the razor, laying him along the ground.

The Barber’s gaze drops from my eyes to the straight razor in my hand.

“I’ve known ya for years.” I brush a hand over my beard while the blade drips a red liquid in my other hand. I have his reflection behind me in the mirror while I crane my neck and inspect the half-complete job.

With an unsteady hand, the Barber further dishevels his hair while forking his fingers through it. “He threatened my life if I spoke.”

I open the silver top off the barbicide and grab a clean shearer from the disinfecting blue liquid. “Figured as much.”

I wait for a few beats.

Justice taught me that too.

To be patient—to get my heid outta my fecking arse—is wit she said. To apologize.

That word was never a part of my vocabulary until she came colliding into my life.

The ginger hesitates a beat—as I’ve said, he’s known me five solid years.

His Adam’s apple bounces. “I’m sooorry.”

“Nae yer not a sorry lad. Unlucky. Not sorry.” Craning my neck, I inspect the Barber’s craftsmanship while pawing my beard. Then, I place the bloodied razor down and grab another from the kit.

“I’m sorry,” he says over and over while I shear the entire length of my jaw. Goodbye auld friend, I tell my beard, I’ll be seeing ya again, though.

“Should I?” The Barber offers, gesturing toward the blade in my hand.

“Nae.” I glare at him through the mirror, and he blanches. A few minutes later, I run my palms over my smooth face, giving a nod of satisfaction. I open a plastic compartment where he’ll often grab a steamy, hot towel to wipe my face.

“Feels good,” I sigh, turning around.

“Brody, I’m truly sor—”

My Barber’s last bout of apology dies. With the precision and swiftness of a cobra, my hand strikes out. The knife glides across the ginger’s throat. As he lays choking on blood, I mutter, “Yer not a sorry lad, just unlucky and deid.”

Damned this messy business. My DNA is all over the area. I toss both bloodied straight razors into the barbicide, that’ll combust. A fire will do just fine. I reach down again to the deid stranger and search for his wallet.

“Did ye wait for me to arrive, aye? Or did my mate, here, feck me over?” I’m a creature of habit. Only when safe. Which means, only Around my clan . . . Or Justice.

I dinna visit the Barber on a set schedule. On the days I’ve come in the past, I’ll give the ginger approximately twenty minutes to clear out the place. He was paid well for discretion and prompt service, and the special facial cream concoction.

I pat down the druggy. There’s nae wallet in his jeans. I press my fingers into the pocket of the stranger’s linen shirt, pull out a photo that’d sober the town drunk. A picture of Justice and me.

“Shite,” I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Who sent ye?”

Is the deid lad from Justice’s past or have I tangled her into the clan’s trouble? When we first met, she had a goon chasing her. The lad answered to me. So who sent this arsehole, and is she a target too?

Nae hesitating, I’d die for my clan—Erika McFarland included. But for a pretty face, nae. Can’t say that I’ve met a lass who differed much from the one before her. On occasion, I have played the knight when I saw a guy roughing up a lass. Aye, that’s just me tossing my weight around. For a pretty face, I’d take a two-piece to the beard, followed by claiming the life of the lad who tested me.

But reckon, I need to reevaluate a few things. Assuming this deid bampot had a target on Justice too. Granted, the bonny lass is different than any other woman I’ve crossed. Not saying I’d die for her. We’ve established that she ain’t clan. For Justice, aye, I’d take a bullet. Maybe even two.

I hope you enjoyed this super short introduction to Brody and Justice’s story that will launch in April. Hope that’s not too much of a delay, if the narrators speak any faster for the audiobook version the readers might complain ;)

In the meantime, if you haven’t, grab Leith and Chevelle’s Extended Epilogue for closure on Lady/Marcy and to get a glimpse of Chevelle’s fresh, new relationship.

Please leave a review on Amazon, Goodreads, and BookBub. You should also read more of my work if you haven’t.

Crime /Romantic Suspense:

August.

Fearless (Also in Audiobook)

Lawless

FEAR (Sexy Brit alert)

Black Queen, Dark Knight

Zaccaro

Contemporary Romance:

Make Me Stay (Duet)

The Good Mistress (Dirty Billionaire Duet)

Serial Killers:

Devil In Her Bed

Diablo Inside (Cuban Cuban!!!)

BDSM:

An Alpha’s Desire

Ephraim’s Hurt Room