Chapter 11
Brody
It’s late. My seventeen-year-old bràthair, Camdyn, is seated at the island in the kitchen when I enter. He’s dressed in jeans, and a black leather jacket covers his addiction to tattoos. We have four more wee bràthairs who were born in California. Though this bampot was birthed in the highlands with us, he ain’t a normal lad.
Raking a hand through his reddish-blond hair, he asks, “Had a good time watching movies?”
I snort. Justice and I watched Love Jones. The sex held my attention. The actress hot as feck. I bit my tongue the entire day, gave into Justice’s whims. Now, I can hear Justice in my ear, saying how she’s telling Chevelle that I’m the good guy. The feck did I get myself into. “Hand that over.”
A beam stretches across his smug face, and Camdyn gives the whiskey a shove in my direction. The bottle of amber liquid charges across the long wooden slab. My fingers curl around it. I open it, swigging down enough to double my internal temperature.
“How’s school?” I ask.
His mouth tenses in irritation. “Let’s not pretend to be those people. You chose not to answer my question. Now, why should I answer yours?”
“Ye keeping safe, Cam?”
“At school?” His gaze narrows, insulted. “Where I have a hundred loyal subjects and bitches bowing at my feet? Should I mention the teachers?”
I down my whiskey. Justice thought chatting with me was like pulling teeth. Getting information from the teen sitting across from me is beyond impossible. I slide the whiskey back over.
He seizes it and takes enough swigs to put hair on his baws. “You look tired, bro? Not I-conquered-good-pussy tired.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Ye’re all dressed up, leather jacket and shite. Where ye off too?”
“To conduct clan business.” He smiles. “Had to make a few calls to my royal subjects. But now, I’m ready to help Leith with his thing. We got the I’m-the-big-brother-who-needs-to-show-his-support-to-his-little-brother bullshit over with. Let’s focus on a brother who actually needs it. You ready?”
“Yeah. Ready, and stop being such a condescending wee nugget,” I toss out the name Leith and I call him, “American.”
Camdyn stands from the stool and plucks up a samurai sword that must’ve been leaning against the lower cabinet. It’s one Chevelle had tried to cut Leith with yesterday when she thought he was cheating with Erika.
“Why aren’t you dressed?” Camdyn cocks a brow, glancing over my house shoes and sweats. He pulls a pair of gloves from his jacket. “Our father taught us to stay ready, bro.”
“Feck ye, I’m ready,” I grumble as we walk past Mam’s formal living room.
“Humph. I think Leith and Chevelle are in here.” He shoves open the door to our da’s office. The room has hunting prizes on the walls. A couple of sofas sit in front of an oak desk with more chairs. Leith sits in Da’s leather chair behind the desk, holding his sleeping bride in his arms. Good. Twigs complicates shite with her whining anyway.
“The feck areye two doing?” Leith asks.
Camdyn rubs his hands together. “Mom said she’s proud of the three of us. I haven’t been home this many days straight in half a year. We’re bonding. Tonight, we’re off to bond again.”
I crack my neck, tormented by the thought of a full-figured woman in my bed. She’s enough curves to swerve on my dick, yet she hasn’t taken the golden opportunity. “And I’ve not killed someone in a week, Leith. So, let’s bond.”
“From the looks of it, he hasn’t fucked the friend either.” Camdyn rolls his eyes.
That hit a cord. “Justice is none of yer business.”Feck. This is what the wee shiteheid asked for.
“Speaking of friends . . .” Leith squeezes his sleeping beauty in his arms and nudges his chin to his laptop. “Once Chevelle awakens, I’ve gotta ask her about this woman.”
Camdyn and I round the desk to get a good look at a middle-aged lass on the computer screen. Wake the bitch up. I soften my approach. “Och, allow me. I’ll go grab a bucket of ice water.”
Camdyn’s eyebrow lifts. “Bro, that’s petty as fuck. Oh, but that’s payback for the cockblock?”
We’re arguing when Leith cuts in, “Shut it! Do the two of ye see where this is goin’, aye? Shut yer mouths.”
Camdyn sneers. “Hello, Leith! I’m defending your wife.”
That’s the problem with Chevelle. She hates me so much she can’t see through this wee fecker’s schemes. If I’m the bad guy, my wee bràthair is the antichrist.