My arms loop around her a fraction before she attempts to move. “He was a nobody druggie.”
“You said that. Who sent the drug addict?”
“McFarlands.”
Her eyes roll away. “They have money. Why not send someone more efficient? Why you?”
I hold up a finger and start to tick off. “One, they needed some bampot not tied to their shite clan. Two, MacKenzies have associates all over the nation. They put out an official hit—on the motherfeckers who actually complete their hits—that would be a nugget move.”
She ponders, “Hmmm, might make sense.”
“Aye,” I hold up another finger, “three, I’m the one who was supposed to marry the lass. Four, one night, a couple of months ago, after a rock concert, Erika was pished. So drunk, she could hardly stand. She was crying, wondering if her da loved her.”
Justice’s eyebrows pull together. “I’m devastated just imagining that. But how does that night tie in?”
“So, when I made that deal for ye with Bawbag Hank,” I snarl the lad’s name, “I came back to Erika and reminded the lass about it. She only agreed to this bullshite engagement to see how far her fecking da would take stock in her feelings. She was hoping that, at the engagement party, he’d—”
“Have a heart-to-heart with her and call off the farce?” Justice muses thoughtfully. “I’m still confused by—”
“Maybe Ewan found out I was fecking ye. The deid scabby wankstain had a picture of us from when we walked out of the hotel.”
“Very old school, Brody. Ewan preened himself while mentioning his private jet at the restaurant, remember? He should be able to hire an assassin.”
I laugh again. “Like the Princess hitman book ye read?”
“First, since we’re counting fingers to prove our point,” Justice holds up a finger, “then, the heroine was heir to a South African kingdom. Second, there are hitmen in the world. The one in the book got millions of dollars and a Lamborghini to transport—”
“Justice,” I clamp her cheeks. “Ewan crossed a line. Tomorrow, ye will be somewhere safe with Chevelle and the weans, the little ones, while?”
“Oh, my gosh, Brody. I’m summoning all my good girlfriend vibes to cut you some slack. Otherwise, I’d look at you like the most ruthless, vile person I ever crossed. I took heed to Malcolm X philosophy, so, yes there is a gun in my purse, but damn . . . you . . . are a bad person.” Understanding flashes in her eyes. “Tell me you’re not initiating a coup!”
“Nae,” I lie, reaching for a beard that’s no longer there.
She places a hand over her stomach. “Bullshit. It’s evil, Brody. What about Erika?”
I toss my head back in a deep sigh.
“Yes, this is what you got yourself into, Broody Brody. A woman who honestly loves you!”
“Camdyn—”
“You said he’s more vicious than you?”
“Stop minding everything I say,” I growl.
She pushes at my chest. “How about you feel remorse for your plans.”
“The American suggested we let Erika murder her da, lass. That nugget’s a lost cause. At least my suggestion—”
“Will it help you sleep at night after murdering Erika’s father? You’re a coldblooded bastard.” Justice struggles to rise, but my arms tighten around her.
“Brody, the man who made an attempt on your life could’ve received payment from anyone. In your occupation, you’ve acquired more enemies than friends. Marcus—”
“Wit?” I grit. I’d thought of this, Marcus slithering into town. It’s counterproductive to the narrative I need. I grill Justice. “How would Marcus get here? Wilmer had him off his heid, lass. The bampot’s somewhere overdosed.”
Our argument wraps around in circles. At my wit’s end, I find myself using the American’s philosophy, moving away from my Scottish heritage. I twist the bad and turn it into something good. “Aye. McFarlands are scared of us. We’ve evolved. Justice, we’ve got Nolan. We’ve got resources. We’re coming into our own. It’s been a fecking long time coming. The henchmen have connections. There are so many of us that Ewan feared retaliation, so he gave a crackpot a few measly bucks and promised him more to kill me.”
I expect more resistance. For a few tense seconds, she stares at me. Justice cocks her head and snaps, “Brody, will Erika forgive you for this?”
Mouth rigid, I retort, “Wit’s it to ye?”
“Don’t go there,” Justice says softly, shaking her head. “If we’re doing this—you and I together—I’ll always be the moral bone, Brody. You presented a plan to Erika. One that would allow her to broach the subject with her father and ask if he really cared. But you-you intend to kill the man. Your family friend. This isn’t just about Ewan. It’s about Erika too.”
“On the top of my give-a-feck list is my clan. Ye’re now clan, Justice. Me telling ya all of this makes ya very important to me.” My hand settles over my bare jaw. “There’s something ye must know about me, lass. I’d die for my clan. I just prefer killing for them instead, which is wit I intend to do.”