“Own yer shite, laddie.” Erika winks. “We were talking about yer lovely wife.”
“Brody move. I’m gonna push this one over the cliff,” Camdyn says, rummaging around a plastic container that reads alcohol. “Leith, you can thank me later. Shit, both of you can watch the bitch topple down the hill.”
Erika lifts both middle fingers.
Leith grabs the bottle of Resnov Water. “That vodka’s for the pub. This whole lot is. I got a deal on my way home. So, I’m not giving out nae alcohol.”
“Not one wee bevvy?” Firth pinches his index and thumb together for reference.
“Nae,” Leith says coolly. “As a matter of fact, this one’s also for Cam—don’t expect free alcohol or otherwise at my wife’s pub when it opens up. Free never. Paid, not until ye’re twenty-one.”
“I’m not even going to humor that with a response.” Camdyn touches a hand to his chest. “It pains me to lie to my clan. So, I won’t.”
“I don’t need ya to lie and tell me ye have good intentions, bràthair,” Leith slaps his open palms on the counter. His reddish-blond hair falls into his eyes as he glares across the room at Camdyn. “Ye can’t step foot in Mia’s Placetill ye’re twenty-one. See, I made that easy.”
“Easy?” Firth lifts a brow. “I’m all for the straight and arrow, but that’s pushing it, cousin.”
“Eat yer carrots, fatty,” Camdyn pipes in. “I got this. Leith, I won’t be in Mia’s Place drinking yer alcohol. I’ll walk into that motherfucker with my own Solo cup in hand and a bad bitch under the other arm—maybe even three. Eye candy is good for business. You’re welcome.”
Firth snorts. “Who made the b-word so—”
“Eddy. Hello? You never complained before.” Camdyn looks Firth over. “Is that dog face possessing my cuz?”
“Shut yer mouth, Cam!” Firth gasps.
I muzzle Camdyn with my elbow, whispering, “C’mon, Eddy’s sweet.”
Leith settles his elbows onto the counter. “Erika, wit did ye and Chevelle think of the first site today?”
“That place was amazing—beachfront property. We were sold. Uncle Edward has another place to check out, though. Says not to rush things.”
I glance at my phone again. Wilmer has texted me, but there’s one from Knox too.
“Firth, yer wee bràthairs made it to Boston,” I say. “Nae issues with the McFarlands.”
When Camdyn eyes Erika like the outlier in this situation, my eyes narrow at him. He shows me the same love, his blue ones turning into slits.
“So,” Erika mutters, “ye never told us about the trip. Botched mission?”
“Epic,” I groan, “fecking failure.”
Camdyn pulls a knife from the back of his pocket. “Shit got real. We’ve gotta rage on those McFarlands.”
“Shut up,” Leith growls.
Erika shakes her head. “I’ll talk to—”
Camdyn pops the side of his fist onto the white marble. “You tell Ewan ‘no’ when he jumps on you. But he doesn’t hear you, though. Why would he listen to you now, bitch?”
Her head tilts. “Why are you so—”
“Your blood isn’t running through my veins, Erika, so you won’t see me kissing your ass. Half the time, you walk around like something’s swinging between those bony ass legs. Stand up to your dad. Stop being a fucking contradiction.”
“I oughta!” Erika reaches to her waist. It’s an automatic move, but she ain’t hiding a gun anywhere.
“You should. I can justify to my dad taking you out.” He forms his hand into a gun, pointing it at his own head. “Bang-bang, bitch.”
It’s usual for Erika and the laddie to go toe to toe. But it’s different tonight. She’s not holding her own and flounders. Maybe it’s the meds or her being stuck in a wheelchair. I grab Camdyn’s collar. He pushes my arm. Leith’s telling Erika to mind her stitches.