let up. My knuckles burn from pounding his bony face. My blood-painted fist is an inch away from his blubbering mouth.
I grab him about the collar, standing to my full height. Bill Phelps’ golfing shoes dangle from the floor. His white face is bleached of color as I choke him out. “Ye scared my feckin’ hen, scabby wankstain!”
“I’m sorr—”
I bring him back to the ground. The thought of living without Chevelle sends my fist reeling, pulverizing his face over and over.
I fall apart. My fists have tenderized Phelps’ face, reconfiguring the motherfecker’s nose. Dissatisfied, I jab my thumbs into his eyes until they’re a jellied pulp, leaving him unseeing. Soon, his cries will cease too. The MacKenzie animal my da created reigns. Blinded by rage, I grip his throat. With a sharp twist, his neck snaps. A terrifyingly delightful feeling whirls through me. This is a lifestyle I could get used to.
I glance around—a triumphant, vicious smile on my face. Call me the bloody Joker. It’s how I’m feeling.
“Aye! Ye did good, brathair,” Brody cheers.
Bill Phelps’ face is unidentifiable. Good, the ugly motherfecker got what he deserved. Rising to my feet, my chest huffs. I run my thumb along my pinkie, where I’d made a promise to my wife. A promise I will fulfill tonight and for the rest of my life. I’ll be the lad she fell for.
A small smile appears on Camdyn’s menacing face as he pulls the ski mask over his jaw. “Drinks?”
“Aye! Let’s go for a bevvy!” Brody shouts.
I nod, the elation continuing to stir through me. “Aye, I’ll buy the whole bar a bevvy. Call yer friends, American, because that’s the type of money I’ve got.”
“The rich, cocky nugget has returned! Let’s celebrate!” Brody exclaims.
“Oh, Leith.” The sound of an automated voice might as well have tossed me on my feckin’ head!
Brody scratches the back of his neck. Camdyn’s eyebrows pull together.
“Take a gander at the television screen, my friend. Right behind you.”
We all do an about-face. I glance up at the ninety-inch tellybox bolted to the center of the wall. A silhouette of a man, obscured by darkness, sits behind a table.
“The MacKenzie brothers in action. Love the synergy. I’d hate to be on your bad side.”
“Who the fuck are you?” Camdyn hisses.
“Yes, the little brother. You’re ballsy like Brody. Yet, you’re often polite, and your quiet demeanor has placed the wool over the eyes of many people—your cohorts included.”
My wee brathair’s fingers curl under. Measuring his words, Cam says, “Okay, ass-twad, keep my name out your mouth!”
“Alright, you have a deal. Leith, I didn’t think you had it in you; however, your adaptability is refreshing. The raw aggression, lovely as well.”
The faint outline shifts as whoever beneath the cloak of darkness claps.
“Leith, will you give the honors in telling them about our new relationship?”
“Nae.” I can’t tear my eyes away from Phelps—the man I’m now aware wasn’t my nemesis. At least, he’s unable to see me in death.
“One-word answer? What happened to ‘closing my geggie?’ Or have we returned to the part where I talk, and you silently utilize that neglected intellect? Alright, I won’t tell them about the six mill that solidified our association.”
Around me, my brathairs are repeating his words as if under a hag’s spell. Six mill. Six. Mill.
“Shuddup.” I give them a pointed look.
On the darkened screen, the blackmailer prattles on. “As I said from the beginning, I’ll present you with several assignments as required for your ample compensation. It’s unusual that I dole out cash first. But you followed through rather swiftly, Leith.”
“So,” I clear my throat, “Who was this man to ye?”
“Good question. My business partner—ahem—ex-business partner, sought half of every dollar I acquired. You’d think we were married. Chat soon.”
White noise channels around us. Black and white glitches across the screen. Under the hard stares of my brathairs, I quietly vow to break every bone in my enemy’s body. This is the last time I underestimate my adversary.
Chapter 17
Chevelle
Have you ever spent over an hour surfing for a show to watch on Netflix, only to realize you’re not in the mood? That was me almost three hours ago. By then, Justice promised to come over with a couple of movies and a bottle of Resnov Water. When I’d mentioned her car making it up the hills, we went back and forth from there. She was convinced the clunker would make it up the hill on a wing and a prayer. Me, well, I didn’t want to