Chapter 57
Brody
Since my conversation with Justice yesterday, I’ve told myself to give it my all when asking my parents to agree to my plans this evening. It would be oddly easy to rampage on the entire clan. MacKenzies are the security when the Clan McFarland—which are almost all lasses and lassies—get together. Shite, that’s why the nugget asked for a bairn. Who’ll lead his clan when he dies? There are no McFarland lads, and Kieran’s only McFarland on his mam’s side.
Getting ready to head to Da’s, I get an unexpected call from a guy I need to exhaust all ties with.
“Justice, I’ve to drop ye off at my parents’ house.” She rummages through a duffle bag of her things in my bedroom, wearing jeans and a bra.
She snorts. “Wouldn’t I be much safer in the pantry?”
“Ye know wit’s happening today.”
She pulls out a cotton shirt. “I have a bad feeling about this, Brody. Not the engagement party this evening, the whole damn thing. Okay?”
“Aye.” Soon as Justice’s shirt drops over her head, I press my lips to her mouth in a kiss meant to calm her nerves. I’d tell her we may not even get to the fecking party tonight, but she’ll have more questions. “Ye just moved most of yer things in, Justice. Tomorrow, we can go shopping. Make this place look like something.”
A small smile pushes at her lips. “I’d like that. Can you make today tomorrow, though?”
“Nae. But I promise to be around then.” My forehead drops to hers.
Her sigh brushes across my face. “I guess that’s all I can ask for then.”
I bruise her mouth with an even harder kiss. “Listen, I got a call from Kieran, a lad from Clan McFarland. He’s not taken the same flight as the rest of his clan. He’s at an Irish pub around the corner.”
“Hmmm? Why Irish?”
“His da was a fecking paddy. His ma was Ewan’s sister.”
“Alright, let’s all agree. Kieran is Ewan’s de facto heir?”
I press another kiss to the wee crease at the left of her mouth. “He’d make a good leader. Only if it were that easy, Justice.”
“When you meet with him, I hope you guys remember the good old days and can work things out.” Her hand plays across my jaw. “Brody, please try to make amends. You’re a hard critic, so Kieran really must exhibit leadership qualities.”
Since I’m at the point where the entire thing is a lost fecking cause, I ask, “You need me to drop ye off before I meet up with him?”
“Lakewood is a couple of blocks in all directions, Brody. My gun’s in my purse. I got this.” She smiles.
“Aye, ye can handle yerself.” I palm my keys in my jeans pocket. “If you can get that hunk of shite to work and go straight to my clan home, then I’ll not follow ye those couple of blocks, lass. Deid shot,or not I’m keeping ye safe, and that’s a promise.”
* * *
There are sparkly four-leaf clovers stringed about the pub. A wee leprechaun vomited green all over the carpets, the countertops, and the walls.
A mop of long hair spills over onto the table. In a dirty shirt, Kieran’s hunched over a pint at a booth to himself. Drunk or not, he’ll be hard to killlater. Kieran looks up at me. Scruff lines his angular jaw.
“Why aren’t ye sick over this? This is fecked up,” he slurs, running a hand over his tatted forearm.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he turns his attention to the server, motioning at his drink, “get my mate here a bevvy.”
“Just one,” I say. “Murphy’s Stout.” I mention a popular Irish beer.
“Keep them coming, beautiful,” Kieran tells her, pulling his wallet from his slacks.
I settle beside him.
“This entire situation flew over my heid, Brody.” He whistles while anchoring his hand over his dome.