Die For You - Amarie Avant Page 0,71

gonna be. While placing on gloves, I tell myself, “Soon as I’m done with this fecker, I’ll head home.”

I further rationalize how I’ll be the good man Chevelle married by surprising her this weekend with a chartered jet to the Valley. We’ll look at a property for her brewery and reach out to a few realtors about a condo.

Nodding my head at how I’ll whisk her off her feet, I call Cam, turning the volume up on the radio to hear him better.

“How’s my wee clan?”

“Good. Chevelle’s asleep. Mia’s nodding off. I think I’ll hit the sack too.”

“I’m wabbit, myself. I plan to have a wee bit of fun with the package. Bring ‘em to my place in Long Beach.”

“Woah, bro, you offering me a therapy sesh?”

I grunt at his choice of analogy for torture. “If that’s what ye call it now, then aye. I’ve been plagued for three entire months, Cam. So, ye, Brody, and me can bond just like ye lot suggested. Call our big brathair and tell ‘em to get some good whiskey.”

“But I’ll be here,” Camdyn groans.

“Just for the night. Then ye can have at ‘em while I take my lassies on a quick getaway. When I return, American, it’s all bonding, aye?”

“Alright, sounds good to me. For now, I’ll keep the fam safe.”

I click my tongue and hang up.

With a backpack over my shoulders, I grip the top of a cinder block fence, climbing over with ease. In the darkness, I try to discern how my boot has gotten caught in the pillow of a faded blue plastic pool lounger.

“Shite,” I mumble, untangling myself from the lounger and silently laying it to the side. I stalk past a dilapidated pool, reeking of stagnant water. A community barbecue pit is off to one side. My eyes scan across an area where wee weans have left their toys scattered about. I take the stairs toward the rear of the apartment building up to the second level. As I start down the pathway, the streetlights are off in the distance. Management has placed no value on the safety of their tenants. My eyes adjust to the darkness.

Inside my gloves, my palms are slick with anticipation. I reach in my back jean pocket for a lockpick and make quick work of the locks. Upon opening the door, I step to the left, silently pushing the door closed while clearing each corner. I distinguish an old futon in the darkness, but much of the wee room is empty space.

A faint glow comes from down the hall. I grab a cell phone charger from the wall and wrap each end of the cord around my knuckles. Down the hall, the sniveling ned, sounding like his baws have yet to drop, is presumably on the phone. There are a few short breaks during his conversation.

“Out since mid-last week. I was wondering—”

In a split second, I’ve scanned the single bedroom. Yates’ back is to me as he sits at a cheap, wooden desk. I slide the cord down to his neck, yanking him back. The light weight is lifted from the chair, feet dangling as I choke him against my chest.

His tiny shoulders lift a mile high when I snarl into his ear, “Awright, bawbag. Ye know me! I ken ya too, now.”

Ten minutes later, Yates’ belly is on the matted carpet, zip ties binding his wrists behind him. I’ve secured zip ties on each of his ankles. On my knees, I search my backpack for a third zip tie to loop ’round through the ties along his ankles and link them together. He grouses awake.

“Scream, I dare ya,” I threaten. I’d planned this evening meticulously, but the duct tape for his mouth must still be in my trunk. Feck. I’ve nae idea what happened to it.

Blood trails from Yates’ bruised lips, leaching into the already soiled carpet. He hacks. “Leith, use that noggin on your shoulders. Release me. Let’s discuss a new agreement.”

“Now that ye’re in a predicament, aye? Ye wanna negotiate with a feckin’ eejit like me?”

Biting his eyes shut, he groans, “I’ve never referred to you as an idiot. I indicated that your impulsive nature—”

“Just stop,” I laugh. Sitting on my haunches, I fold my arms. “Look at ye and look at me, ye daftie nugget.”

“Daft? I’ve made millions in the past couple of years. With my intellect and your familial connections—”

“I’m ‘bout done listening to ya! Had it up to here,” I leverage a hand forehead high, “with that

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