Chapter 65
Brody
We have them on their knees, execution-style. Kieran lifts his eyes to me. “Ye should stop this. Little Brody, Blythe, ye were my fecking mates all our lives!”
I kneel, gripping his hair and holding his gaze. “Ye snitched on us, Kieran.”
A look of disbelief passes before his eyes.
“Ewan.” Camdyn grips the back of the old lad’s neck like a wayward dog. “You got the Feds sniffing around us, bitch.”
Kieran looks at him. “Nae, Cam!”
“Fecking liars!” Da roars.
“Nae,” Ewan says. “I may have made a mistake, letting ya live, but I’m nae snitch.”
“But ye came for my fecking lifetoday,” I say.
“That’s why ye must die,” Mam says softly, thrusting a .9 mm into Ewan’s mouth. Da stands at her side as she murmurs, “We’ll not be sparing any lives here. Ye tried to kill my Little Brody, and ye fecked with our clan, Bràthair Ewan.”
She clicks the hammer back.
“Aunt Nan,” Kieran barks, “Erika will be hurt.”
“I know, love.”
“Ye have to see reason,” he says as Ewan chokes on the barrel. “I didn’t allow Ewan’s guards to put a gun to Little Brody. Why would—”
I loop my forearm around his neck from behind. All his fecking hair tickles my jaw as I lean to speak in his ear. “Ye were a good pal. Loyal to a fault.”
“Ewan, my mate,” Da squats in front of him. “Ye cross me, time and time again. I’ve not the heart to torture ye, old friend. Kieran—if ye were serious, unaware of yer uncle’s plans, my heart is with ye as ye meet yer ma and da.”
Big Brody places a hand on Mam’s shoulder. She nods her head to me, her finger snuggling the trigger, while I do the same to Kieran’s gun at the crown of his head.
Goodbye, fri—
There’s a horn honking, and it gets louder as it comes closer. Mam straightens up. We all look around to see Leith’s Chevy. The car careens into the hangar at top speed; the driver door opens.
“Ye all need to stop.” Leith barrels out of the driver’s seat. I unhook my arm around Kieran. More guns face him, anyway. My bràthair’s grand entrance was irrelevant.
Kieran tries to stand, but my hand digs into his shoulder. His eyes fly upward. “Feck ye, Brody.”
Leith assists Erika out of the car, holding her in his arms.
“Everyone, please,” she trembles out. “Please, please stop. We’re all clan! Da tell them!”
“Wit should ye tell us?” My father crouches, looking into his old mate’s eyes.
“Speak, bitch.” Camdyn’s hand claws into the back of Ewan’s neck again.
“Little Brody,” Kieran turns to me, “when I told ye we should all be having us a talk in Scotland, it was Uncle Ewan who had something to say.”
“I reckoned that,” I mutter.
“Big Brody, Nan,” Kieran says, “I’ve nae idea why ye all are angry. Brody, if someone tried to kill ye, that shite is beyond me. Erika—”
“He’s sick, isn’t he?” Erika murmurs.