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My hand slides across the back of my neck in confusion. “Da, I dinna know anything about—”
“Nae! I suspect ye ken nothing about nothing!”
“I know nothing about nothing? Da, am naefeckin’bairn,” I say slowly.
“Leith, yer tone,” Mam says.
“I’ve the utmost respect for my clan and my Da. But I’ll fix this. Got myself into it, I’ll get myself out of it.”
Da places his steepled sausage fingers to his lips. “Look me in the eye. Tell me, is Chevelle aware of the Roman family?”
“Nae,” I reply. “The man who did this is Douglas Yates. All I have to do is track him. I did it before, and I can do it again.”
“Track him?” Da laughs. “Like a bloodhound, aye?”
“Yates?” Mam mumbles.
I glower at Da’s sardonic sneer. “Thebawbagwho shot at us. He must’ve hired these Romans. He did the same to Wendy, an attorney.” I clear my throat since it doesn’t matter. “I had him before. I’ll find him again.”
“Ye did it before?” Da’s voice bellows. “So, ye’re telling me some deidnedcaused this catastrophe? Shot my house, shot at yerbrathairs, yer wife, yer ma, yer bairn, aye!ShotErika. Because ye made him suffer excruciating pain,and ya took his life!He’s a ghost come to torment ye from the depths of hell?”
“Aye! I had him.” Sniffing, I admit, “He got away. My mistake.”
Da lets his head fall back. He laughs. “Aye. Yer mistake. Yer a sixfeckin’foot mistake.”
That hurts like tiny jabs to the heart with a paring knife. I roll my eyes.Witthefeckelse can I do?
Mam hisses, “Big Brody!”
“Wit?” he booms. “Theseshitescame from myfeckin’baws. Today, I’m nae longer proud to say it.”
I hang my head, running a hand along the back of my neck.
Da taunts, “Leith, this fellow who eluded ye. Now, he’s aclanproblem. Though, thebampot’snot the lad I’m looking for. As I’ve said, I need to be having a meeting with the Romans. One of the oldest families from Italy, a supposed good friend of mine, just executed a hit on us—er, a warning of sorts—if you’d like to get technical.”
Brody grunts. “A warning?”
“Any of ye deid? Nae, son. Were it not a warning, I’d be scraping my boys off me perfectly mowed lawn! Dinna get me started on the look on my granddaughter’s face because then I’d fight that Roman all the way down to hell!”
“Love, make nae statements about a place ye rather not end up.” Mam clasps her cross pendant, gesturing for me to sit.
I exhale, sinking into the stuffed sofa across from them. I close my eyes, listening to Mam.
“Clearly, Brody, our son has more issues than what we have been made aware of.”
“Mam,” my olderbrathairsays, just entering the room. “We’re sure it’s Yates. He’s a tricky bastard. Can’t be the Romans.” I look to Brody and assume he’s been listening at the door.
“I’ll find him,” I vow. “Bring him for clan reckoning.”Like I should have done from day one.
“Aye, my sons,” Mam encourages, “together ye will find this Yates lad. Our clan was blessed in numbers. We are the perfect mix of chaos and love. I’ll not doubt our capabilities. Neither one of ye are a lad apart from yer clan. Aye?”
While Brody and I agree, Da’s a silent force.
Mam concludes the fuzzy speech, yet her eyes are cemented in tortured thoughts. “Once ye’ve made Douglas Yates comfortable, Leith, I’d love to meet him before his last breath.”
“I will.” I stand. It’s time to pull off thefeckin’duct tape and stitch myself up.
“Yer father and I will handle the Romans for Chevelle.”
