Die For You - Amarie Avant Page 0,29

that for? I feckin’ lied to my wife.”

“Relax, bro.” Cam gets up. “Every lie said to a beautiful woman serves its purpose. We have work to do.”

“Aye!” Brody agrees. “Dinna look at the American like that, Leith. Our wee brathair and I are on the same wavelength. There’s nae feckin’ way some ned clipped her on accident.”

Those were my thoughts, except for the feckin’ we have shite to do part. As if the Devil’s listening in on my contemplations, the son of a bitch from before tempts me with a call.

Two pairs of eyes that resemble mine cloud in confusion as I answer my phone. I look like a secretary, a feckin’ nugget responding to a call in the middle of our argument.

“Wit!” I growl into the receiver.

“Right now, you’re angry,” the stranger says, utilizing the same automated voice. “I will tell you something, Leith. The feeling is mutual.”

I walk toward Brody’s truck, stopping at the rear. “Aye, then ye should motherfeckin’ come see me ‘bout that instead of flapping yer geggie.”

“Hmmm, in a state of distress, you dismiss having graduated summa cum laude and resort to the savage verbiage of your people? Well, I’m acclimating myself with your choice of words. You want me to shut my mouth? I can assure you, me ‘flapping my geggie’ indicates how we’re still connected. Leith, you’ll want to keep me on your team.”

“Who is it?” Brody silently grits. Without saying a word, Camdyn lifts a brow in question. Both are so different but await the answer to a question that has dogged me for a while.

“Where are ye?” I ask, into the receiver. Again, putting a wee bit of distance between myself and my brathairs.

“We aren’t to that part yet, Leith. Stop fraternizing with attorneys. I’ll say it just once.”

So, he’s aware of the meeting I had with Wendy earlier?

My left hand curls around the edge of the truck bed. “Ye think a bloody attorney is the worst I can feckin’ do to ya? I get my hands on ye, yer feckin’ shark food!”

The call goes dead.

“Who is it?” Brody grips my shirt.

“Get in the truck.” Cam nudges his chin to the door. “Let’s fix this. Though, it might be more rational to do so farther away from your house.”

“I . . .” I stop shouting instantly and pick up my phone. Did the arsehole call me from a phone number? I’m spitting mad on emotion. Flexing my fingers, I take a hard breath then glance at the phone. This time a 323 number appears. “I’ll have the arsehole’s address in seconds.”

Chapter 16

Leith

I’d threatened to kick my wee brathair out of the truck for his own good. Camdyn’s too young to be mixed into the mess I’ve gotten myself in. But he claimed he’d lift a ride and catch up with us since he saw the address on my spare laptop, which I keep in the trunk of my ride. We’d dropped by our parents’ house to grab it. I’d connected my cellphone to the burner laptop and used an outdated program I created at the age of nineteen to retrace the location of the call. While I never had any need for the program, it could trace a phone call within a half-block radius.

We luck out. Now, we’re seated in the Silverado around the corner from a mansion in Brentwood. My enemy's home takes up an entire block.

Bill Phelps is a tech guru who made his money from investing in Google. But he’s so auld I can see him sitting around cashing in on other techies’ inventions. He’s unmarried and has nae weans. Shite just got easy.

Brody grumbles, holding one Glock and a .22 he pulled from his ankle strap. “I ain’t choosing between the two of ya, brathairs. Leith, ye numpty, let’s comeback after dark with more ammo and our cousins.”

“I’m the idiot?” I slap a hand to my forehead. “Feck Knox, Firth, James. Feck ‘em all. They’re numpties.” A vortex of adrenaline races through my veins. I’m moments away from reclaiming my happily ever after. “Brody, I dinna need any of our cousins. Shite, I dinna need ye or Cam for that matter.”

Brody snorts.

“The guns are all yours, bros.” Camdyn leans forward from the backseat to wield a sleek switchblade. “The bitch who said don’t bring a knife to a gunfight never met me.”

“I dinna need a bloody gun neither,” I grunt.

“Alright, I’ll take it. Feels good in the palm of my hand.”

I place my hand over Camdyn’s as

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