Still subduing me with his massive forearm, Brody asks, “Now, that I have yer attention.Witin the hell is going on?”
“It’s bad.” Erika shudders.
Aye, now I recall the severity of the moment. An exhale strangles out of me. I close my eyes, concentrating on one day in particular. Chevelle, Mia, and I were on the shore. Laughter rang out as they poured sand on me. They said they were creating a merman. Took them sofeckin’long, but I didna have a care in the world. Now, one’s gone, and the other’ll hate me ‘til the end of time.
“Leith, talk to me.” Brody removes his arms, settling onto the grass.
I open my eyes, stay there, lying on thefeckin’ground. Tiny insects crawl over mybaws. I choke on emotion. “Brathair, I made a big mistake. A bloody catastrophe. My house—”
“We dinna have time, Leith,” Erika speaks up. “Yer wound is bleeding. We need to slap some duct tape on it. Nae time for proper treatment, mate. Go get dressed. Focus on yer resources now.”
She waves my cellphone in her hand.
“Nae,” I whisper in an almost catatonic state. Anybody driving by tonight’ll assume I’ve met my match in meth.
“Witareye doing, Erika?” Brody asks.
“Ringing Chevelle. Someone’s gotta tell her to return! Little Brody, phone Big Brody this second! The two ofye must go see him. Ye can’t just give up, Leith!”
With a grunt, Brody pushes onto his knees, standing slowly. “Why do we need to go see Da?”
“Because—”
“Wheesht!” I cut her off, coming to a seated position. Erika regards me like I’vefeckin’lost myshite, off my entire head! Nae. That Leith who lay on the grass like a dandelion is nae more. Douglas Yates had one thing right. I’d let feeling reign.
Naemore mistakes, Leith. Be the MacKenzie ladyewere meant to.I kip-up into a standing position. Warm blood trickles down my abdomen.
I stride toward Brody, grip his shoulder, and look him deid in the bloody eye. “Yates blew up my house. I will kill him. If it’s the only thing I ever do,brathair, it’s kill him. Ye with me?”
Staring at me in horror, Brody asks, “Witof Mia and Cam?”
I reach down, shoving the clumps of grass away from mybaws. In a detached tone, I snarl, “We need to focus, Brody. Areyefeckin’with me or nae? Erika, nae answer?”
She sighs. “Chevelle ignored me, turned off her phone, too.”
“In case she’s not goin’ home,” I wriggle my jaw, “ye go to Michie’s, Erika. They’re still open a few more hours.Feckye, Brody. Go on, proceed standing around like a pussy. I’ll handle this myself.”
Chapter 43
Chevelle
Michie’s homeis a coupling of ancient and modern. Rice paper walls divide an otherwise spacious living area. There are samurai swords all around, and like a kid in the candy store, my fingers itch to touch one. Only now, I’m feeling too good to get up. My buzz has elevated, lifted off, and I have no desire to come back down.
“Stop staring at me.” I pour myself another drink. Michie is seated next to me, elbow on the sleek marble of his wet bar. Head in his hand, he blatantly stares. His gaze drops to my lips every so often. So far, I’ve avoided the itch we both have by knocking back another shot.
“You are so beautiful when you cry,” he mumbles. “I sit here, telling myself that your misery is my fortune.”
I wave a hand at him. “Whatever, Michie.”
“Hmmm . . . can I call you Little One?”
I lift the glass bottle, poised like a baseball bat. “You want this bottle against the side of your head?”
His laugh is about as light as the Chianti I smashed earlier. “You’re still young, still hopeful. In need of a Daddy.”
Disregarding the lust swirling around him, I murmur, “All my dreams are dead, Michie.”
“No, beautiful.” His voice is a hypnotic moan. His gaze drinks me in once more. “You’re the one who said your dreams were as big as those curvaceous thighs. Are you, what, a size larger than you were when you came stalking into my bar the first time? You were skinny then.”