“Nae. Ye’re my brathairs,” Brody says, leaning against the door so that he can get a better look at the two of us. “We’re MacKenzie clan. We’re bound.”
Chin high, I wait for Brody to finish rationalizing things. Camdyn gives him the same look. In the end, our older brathair frowns in agreement.
“Alright.” He shuts his geggie for a second. “We haven’t had a simple conversation without arguing in a few months.”
“Try years, bawbag!” I sneer, picking up speed after a red light. “That shoddy bachelor party ye had for me, Brody. We’ve not been close since then. Ye almost cost me my wife!”
“Yup, that happened,” Cam offers. “Brody, you’ve gotta learn to finesse our sis.”
Brody mutters. “Chevelle won’t even let me call her that.”
“Sob story.” Rubbing his hands together, Camdyn says, “Back to the matter at hand. Should we head to the woods with beers and fishing rods for a male-bonding experience?”
“Nae,” I say, “Stop being sarcastic.”
“So what? I’m conveying how juvenile this all sounds. I prefer a macabre connection. Correct me if I’m wrong. We were on the same wavelength killing those guys the other day, right?”
I roll my eyes. “Feck ye, Cam. We’re not bawbags clapping each other’s backs over my issues!”
“Then let me have at ‘em,” Brody avows. “I’ll chop the ned up, feed him to the sharks for ye. Then ye tell Chevelle to get off my feckin’ baws about my mistake. Aye!”
“First of all,” my eyes track from the road to glower at him, “Yates’ death certificate has my name all over it. Second, it’s complicated.” I still need to find him.
“Och, see,” Brody gripes. “That’s what Da prides in ye. The complicated part. Our world isn’t complicated. There’s black, and there’s white. Kill or feckin’ be killed. Leith, ye’re the golden boy. Let it stay that way. Give me an address—”
“Yeah, give it to us,” Camdyn chimes in.
“This is bigger than me, ye two numpty arse nuggets,” I bark. “Yates has infiltrated Infinity Corp.”
Brody asks, “That a bank?”
“Nae.”
Camdyn asks, “Safe or lockbox?”
“Nae. It’s the company I work for.”
Our big brathair hisses, “Shite, next time ye say infiltrated, let it matter, such as putting money in my pockets.”
“Listen, eejit. I think he’s created some sort of system to filch customers' identities in a multimillion-dollar program. A program that has my name on it!”
“Wit can this system do?” Brody waves a hand, interested in more.
“If I’m right, identity theft, for starters. Gather SSNs. It can, eh,” I think of a simple term for him, “act like an eagle eye on a guy’s computer. Access the camera without proper requests. That fecker can do anything!”
Running a finger along his eyebrow, he asks, “Och, I like the sound of that. Are we gonna dump him? Take over the scheme? Why’re ya looking at me like that. Keep yer eyes on the road, Leith. The American’s the shitty driver.”
“Fuck you,” Camdyn says from the back.
“Aye, feck yerself,” Brody taunts. “Now, Leith, dinna tell me ye want to lock ‘em up, throw away the key.”
“Something like that,” I respond, distracted by the thought of finding Yates.
“Alright, the chit chat’s been lovely, boys,” Camdyn interjects. “We know who he is. Let’s kill him.”
Without a word, I zip into the fast-food line at In-n-Out. A few moments later, I fess up. “We’ve got to find him first.”
Brody clucks. “Ye haven’t . . .”
“Nae,” I grumble, edging forward behind a utility truck.
“Why not?”
“He’s a hacker. Ye think the nugget’s sitting ’round somewhere waiting for—”
Camdyn bellows from behind me, “Hack his ass back!”
“Aye,” Brody agrees.
Removing my hands from the steering wheel, I gesture. “I’m nae hacker. I’m a programmer.”
“Wit’s that mean?” Brody asks.
“He lacks creativity and speed,” Camdyn says.
“Sook my baws, brathair.”
“Woah,” he adds. “That wasn’t a dig, Leith. That’s just what they do. I know. Some people have lawyers on their team. I have a hacker on speed dial.”
“Why?” I ask.
Ignoring me, Camdyn retorts, “The two of you are so sensitive, reading between the lines like a pack of women, which leads to the fighting. Programming is contemplative. That’s a positive trait. Does this bode well for your feelings?”
I narrow my eyes and silently edge forward again. Brody blinks still perplexed over our conversation. Our older brathair takes the defensive now, beginning another dispute. I explain that a programmer isn’t meant to be a hacker, but a hacker can program and code. “However, a programmer has the most expertise—”