Cam’s thumb runs over his eyebrow. “Fuck you, Leith. It’s rare for a female to be worth fighting over. Not to say that I’m—”
“Fighting for her?” I offer.
He sips the black coffee then mutters, “First off, fighting is refreshing. I thought you learned that after letting go of my sis’s unnecessary ass contingencies. Second, keep your shitty ass opinion to yourself.”
I stare at the wild card. There’s no making heads or tails of Camdyn. Chevelle may be a bit silly, but she was right. Iwasthe funny Scott. Brody’s the whore. Cam’s not easily typecast. Not sure if this is a bigbrathairgiving littlebrathairadvice moment or not, I shrug. “Fighting, refreshing. Okay, American.”
“Bullshit, yesterday you went chop suey on the hacker guy. I do appreciate a good pun, bro. But before that, you were fighting for a woman, am I correct?”
I blink a few times. Okay, so thereisa girl. Well, in Camdyn’s case, there’s always a girl. A new one every time Cam opens his mouth. “So, what’s the girl’s name?”
Daggers flash in Camdyn’s eyes for a mere second. He then sighs, changing the subject. “Damn, Leith, don’t tell me you and Chevelle are still out?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to askwitthe boy laced in his pot. But now, my heart’sfeckin’bleeding. So, I dinna toss a question of my own at him.
Camdyn slides onto a stool at the island. “Chevelle’s the best thing to ever happen to ya.”
“Ye saying that for my sake, or so I dinna call ye out on yer ownbullshite?”
With a snort, Camdyn places the mug on the wooden counter then counts off his fingers. “First, Chevelle slips me bottles of the good shit to pay for gas when I’m at your house and need a ride.”
“So, she enables yer alcoholism? That’s how she’s the best thing to ever happen to me?”
“Fuck you very much, Leith,” he grouses in a tone of appreciation. “Two, she’s a good mom, not refuting that?”
I shrug, placing my own Keurig pod into the coffee maker.
“Three, her ass is fat.”
With my back to him, I take a few steps over to the wooden slab, resting my hand on a butcher knife.
“Facts, bro. Be glad I’m not a liar.”
A smile breaks across my face.
Camdyn continues, “I was ten years old, watching that fat—”
The bladechings,moving swiftly from its sheath. I turn around with the knife in my hand. But Da’s strolling into the kitchen.
Camdyn regards him with a cool nod. Clearly, he’s grounded. Da doubles down on the American’s demeanor, tossing the frown straight to me. I grunt a greeting, dropping the knife back into the slot.
“Tonight, ye’re gonna kill Fausto DeCastillo,” Da orders. “That’ll fix things.”
I lift my shoulders. It’s the MacKenzie way. Although, I doubt our tried-and-true method will send Chevelle sprinting back into my arms.
“Why now?” I use the brains I’d long forgotten in this vengeful world. This very question could’ve stopped me from playing Yates’s bitch and killing his associates for him.
“Frank Roman shared that Fausto believed Chevelle was out for him. Said it seemed bizarre that she would be. However, Frank fed into the dimwit’s paranoia. I didna inquire further last night. Chevelle was upset. Leith, ye’ll ask her. And ye will be comforting to her as ye say it!”
A comfort and support to my wife? Not possible. She’ll not allow it. I remove my mug from the Keurig and inhale the aroma. “Tell herwit?”
“Tell yerwifeher adoptive mother and Fausto executed the entire scenario. The Romans just helped them score the correct paper necessary to redirect Chevelle’s inheritance, seeing as Fausto is a useless attorney. It was the woman who added a note saying the father couldn’t live without the mam. Made it seem like the mother had been unfaithful. It was all false, Leith.”
I mask the grit of my mouth by sipping the coffee.
“That’s messed up,” Camdyn shakes his head.
“Aye,” I finally speak. “Fausto dies tonight. I’ll bring my wife his heid on a plate.”