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Seven
Conor
If I hadany more programs running on my laptop, I figured the RAM on it would send it flying into outer space.
It was already throbbing like a motherfucker on my lap, and I might as well have invited the Sahara to come and bake my balls.
Did my brothers give a fuck, though, as they breathed down my neck, trying to get information out of me?
A big fat fucking no.
They didn’t give a crap about the fact I probably wouldn’t be able to have kids after this clusterfuck.
And it wasn’t only my brothers’ fault that the future Mrs. Conor O’Donnelly was going to have to visit a sperm bank to get her some baby Conors. Nope, it was that bitch Lodestar.
After the fourteenth round of malware she’d sent my way, I was currently working to disinfect thirty grand’s worth of kit, all while I had my brothers harping on at me about hacking into bank accounts.
This petty shit was so below my paygrade, but fuck, what was I supposed to do? Say no? This was for Dec, after all.
“Why’s it making that noise?” Brennan asked, peering at my laptop pretty much like it was an alien. Or it was about to do as I’d already said—take off and soar into the stars.
“It’s working.”
“Harder than you, dipshit,” Aidan grumbled.
On the brink of snapping back at him, I cast him a look and watched him rub his thigh. We all knew what that meant. His knee was hurting him like a bitch, which always made us go easier on him.
I was half certain that was the reason the prick had turned into an opiate junkie, because we’d stopped giving him ten tons of hell all the time. When a man was raised with that kind of constant infighting, it had to be a culture shock to lose it.
Huh.
That was a thought.
Maybe I should give that hypothesis a go?
“I’m working plenty hard,” I told him softly. “Unlike your junkie ass.”
The silence in the waiting room at my declaration was heavy. Hell, it was like I’d let off a fart worthy of a mushroom cloud.
But no one said anything. In fact, no one said shit.
We all knew Aidan had been dropping the ball since the drive-by shooting that had put him in the hospital for months on end, and we’d let him get away with it.
That no one argued with me told me they agreed, but that no one backed me up told me they were too chickenshit to stand with me.
Cowards.
I huffed at the thought, and feeling a little self-righteous, I cast him a look and stared him square in the eye when I saw he was glaring at me.
I didn’t even shrug, by no means did I even think of apologizing, even by expression only.
I wasn’t sorry.
I loved my brother, but he was being a dick. And he needed to get help. Tiptoeing around the fucker wasn’t going to get us anywhere.
Finn, ever the pacifist, not, muttered, “Have you found anything on Aela?”
Shrugging, I said, “I’m in her bank account.”
