Die For You - Amarie Avant Page 0,61

for his CDL. Da’s in his feelings about Cam. Which leaves ye, Da’s knight and shining armor, wee baws and all—”

“Wee my arse.”

He slams the saw between a kneecap, slicing through all the cartilage, and grits his teeth. “Wee. Now’s not the time, Leith.”

“Then dinna mention my big baws.” I fold my arms. He’s half right. Now isn’t the time.

Brody glowers up at me, eyes exaggerated by the goggles. “What I’m saying is all this shite is yer fault. Me not going on the run like normal. Cam staying with his friends, and the fecker playing ye for a fiddle. All yer fault, bawbag.”

“I’ll silence my own enemies.”

“Let’s pause this chat and come back to it after we pick up the American.”

“Where’s Cam? Why are ye set on including him? He’s a teen, a feckin’ laddie, Brody!”

My big brathair rolls his eyes. “He sent me an address. So, ye tell Camdyn—a MacKenzie—once and for all that ‘ye dinna need him,’ aye?”

Chapter 33

Leith

An hour later, Brody and I pull into paid parking at the beach. Toward the back few rows, there seems to be some sort of Harley Davidson convention. Women in skimpy bikinis swish from side to side as boys posing as men chat and show off their rides. A bawbag convention is what it is.

“Look at the American.” Brody shakes his head.

I shift gears and stall in the center of the lane, seeing how the girls are vying for attention. They keep sauntering into the way. Across from us, Camdyn looks like the king of the neds, seated on a matte black motorcycle with a crowd around him.

“Wit’s with all those tattoos?” I gesture to his arms.

“Aye, we took the nugget to get his first tat. It sparked an addiction.”

“I stopped count at the third one. Where the feck did the rest come from? He’ll never get a job.”

“Ye got a feckin’ job.”

“I dinna have all those tattoos, either.”

“Let’s just say the boy is the feckin’ president of his crew.”

“MC?” I cock a brow.

“Nae. Leith, the American’s an all-around businessman.” While my eyes battle Brody to continue, he sniffs. “Ye got yer secrets. Ask Camdyn. He’ll share. It’s rather genius.”

I start to ask Brody to spill already, but he’ll repeat himself. I make a mental note to do just that and ask Cam myself when our wee brathair notices us.

With a backpack over one shoulder, he shakes hands with one of the other teens. As he’s heading over, every few steps, a girl stops him for attention.

“Look at those tits, that arse—the American’s living my life,” Brody groans, watching them.

“Feck inquiring about Camdyn’s activities, we need to buy ‘em a lifetime-supply of protection at this rate.”

“Heh. Mam’ll take a knife to his throat for getting any, auld bitch pregnant.” Brody climbs out of the Chevelle SS. Camdyn lifts the passenger seat, then slides into the backseat. As I drive away, I narrow an eye at the neds he’s kept close to him.

“You look like the po-po, Leith.” Camdyn jokes.

“Dinna let those laddies get ye into trouble.”

“I’m almost eighteen, bro. I assure you, nobody can force me to do anything against my fucking will.” He shifts around in the back. “Anyway, that’s rich coming from a guy who needs help fighting some nerd—”

I press the breaks, nudging my chin to the wind. “Get the feck out.”

Camdyn snorts. “Nah, I’ll pass. Besides, I’ve finished shit talking. We good?”

After a few beats, I navigate around more arses in string bikinis toward the parking lot exit. I bring them up to speed with the little I’ve learned about Douglas Yates. “I have a few things goin’. I need to draw Yates out. That arsehole has so many bloody back door—”

Brody chokes on an inhale. “Back door?”

“Not that back door. Fuck off.” Camdyn explains, “It’s computer lingo.”

“Sounds like American talk to me.”

“Wheesht!” I growl for them to be quiet while merging into traffic on Pacific Coast Highway. “Ye think that I dinna want the two of ya in my business for the clan’s sake? Nae! Ye bloody can’t shut the feck up. We never get along.”

Camdyn groans. “What do you mean?”

“Aye, Leith. We get along well enough,” Brody says.

I sniff. “Brody, ye and I are good over a pint. Cam, if ye’re not playing immortal behind a sports car or a motorcycle, then ye’re at my house, using my pool to feck a new girl. I’m an Airbnb for ye.”

“You’re right.” Camdyn claps my shoulder. “We don’t engage in the shit that brothers engage

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