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“If you were fifty percent less of an a-hole,” I pointed out, “then you wouldn’t have to replace them all the time.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” he rumbled. “Anyway, why am I getting threatened by a rodent?”
“I met a girl,” I said apologetically.
Brady clicked his tongue, eyes going to the ceiling. “Of course.”
“Her ex is certifiable. He’s some tech crack pot who lives in Norway, and he wants to scare her off from me, so he’s digging into every nook and cranny he can find, digitally,” I continued. “Remington and I have a plan, but it’s not an immediate solution. The fuc—” I paused, breathing in through my nose. “Thejerkcould still release all the data he’s threatening to release.” I watched Brady for his reaction.
This was our life’s work, more or less. We were on the verge of a massive breakthrough that would make enormous strides for Alzheimer’s patients, patients with depression, possibly even patients suffering from cerebral palsy. The whole thing would be ruined if the data was thrown out there haphazardly.
Amos leaned his elbows on his knees “He sounds like a piece of work.”
“He is,” I agreed.
“Is Remington smarter?”
“Infinitely,” I said with honest confidence.
Brady shrugged. “Then I guess we don’t have to worry.”
“Yeah,” I agreed warily. Brady, quite frankly, scared the shit out of me sometimes. He was a good person with solid morals, but his humor had a razor-sharp edge, and his temper was the quiet kind. The kind that fucked you over before you’d even realized it had happened. Sans lube.
“What do you need from me?” he asked, straightening.
I thought about that as I slung the towel around my neck and held onto both ends. “The girl, Laurel, she’s in some pretty tight places, legally. If she could get herself out of that mess, then I could really let him have it without worrying about what he’d do in retaliation.”
“Done,” Amos said, standing.
“You think Azura will do it?” I asked. I knew Brady’s sister was a hotshot lawyer in Denver, but she had a list of priority cases longer than my driveway.
“If you get me the particulars—paper, preferably—then I’ll have her handle it. He’s in Norway?”
I nodded.
Amos snorted. “Azura will flip him over, spank him, and throw him down a set of stairs before he knows what hit him. Metaphorically.”
I couldn’t imagine teeny-tiny Azura flipping anyone over. But I could imagine her shark brain ripping someone to shreds in ametaphoricalsense, for sure. I gestured with my head toward the stairs. “I’ll have Remington find the divorce decree. He’s got all the firewalls and shi-stuff.”
“Whatever works,” Brady said, his face a study of long-suffering, aged wisdom. He was three months younger than me, for the record.
I paused at the bottom of the stairs. “I should probably get Laurel’s consent to dig our fingers into her divorce.”
“Did this ex dig his fingers into your personal life first?” Brady asked, hands sliding back into his pockets.
“Sure did,” I agreed grimly.
“Cade, consent is for sex. If someone you love is in trouble, and you have the power to get them out of it, then don’t give them the option to override it with their guilt,” Amos said seriously.
I wasn’t sure I agreed with him, there. Laurel would see it as a breach of trust if I tampered with her messy divorce decree on my own. But she’d also never let me help if I asked. Sighing, I trudged up the stairs. “Sorry, man. Your sister needs to find a way to help that doesn’t go over Laurel’s head.”
Bradytsked again. “Fine. She can handle it. Anything else?”
“Yeah, one more thing.”
“What?” he growled.
“Be my bait.”
