“No,” I say, “chucklefuck? Where the hell did you come up with that?”
He shrugs. “Chuckle. Fuck. It fits.”
“Really? And the etymology of this word is…?”
“Shut up,” Alec groans, rubbing his eyes. “Stop taking the piss out of me.”
“Of course,” I say graciously, which enrages him even more, “do continue.”
“So, let them be on the front lines,” he says impatiently, “they’ll be lining up to do it to save face after not wiping Chen off the face of the earth when they had the chance. We’ll move in on the second sweep and take out Zhang.”
“I thought you wanted to kill them yourself?” I ask.
He shrugs, “Maybe I’ll let Cormac live so I can tell him that his father murdered mine. How he hid in Glasgow all these years like the cowardly fuck he is. Cormac can see the dead bodies of his brothers before I shoot him in the face.”
Alec’s face is red, his eyes alight like the pits of hell. Once he discovered who had murdered his father when he was a child, his life was focused on destroying the MacTavish Clan. And as his brother - and with my own score to settle - I was happy to assist him.
Now, there is Sorcha. My wife.
Where I used to enjoy the vision of Cameron’s sightless gaze when I stabbed him in the throat, now Sorcha’s beautiful, determined face takes his place. How can I cause her more anguish than she’s already suffered?
“Do you know that when you’re conflicted, you get this constipated expression?” Alec says. “It’s very off-putting.”
“Thank you for your helpful observations,” I say dryly. “It is true that we’re dealing with two triads, not one. I agree that the MacTavishes should clean up their mess. But… to kill them all? Why don’t we make a quick trip to Glasgow, capture Cormac Senior and you can have your fun with him before you kill him? You can have your revenge for your father without decimating the clan.”
Alec’s eyes narrow.
“Are you forgetting everything we’ve planned? What they did to us? Is her pussy making you weak?”
This is the first time I’ve punched Alec in the face, and it feels much better than it should.
Glaring up at me from his place on the floor, he gingerly massaged his jaw. “All right. The comment was uncalled for.”
I hold my hand out to pull him up and he seizes it, yanking me down and punching me with his other fist. We sit together on the oriental rug in front of his desk, and I use the expensive blanket from his couch to wipe the blood off my face.
“Are you feeling better now?” I’m fucking irritated with him. Alec’s my brother, the man who was there for me after I lost my parents. I shared in his contempt for the MacTavishes, but damn it… Sorcha is my wife. I have a responsibility to her; no one, not even Alec, will speak ill of her.
“Not really,” he says, still rubbing his jaw, “but she’s off-limits, I understand. What I’m hearing from you though, is a man going back on everything we’ve wanted to do to these bastards. Are you with me, or not?”
Drawing my legs up, I rest my arms on my knees and my head against the sofa. “We agree on the key points, brother. The MacTavish Clan is a blight and they deserve to be punished, most specifically due to your father’s death, and generally, because we now have to deal with two triads and not one. But if they enter the warwithus…” I shook my head. “This is my wife’s family. According to the code of conduct in our world, they are now considered allies. I can’t shoot them in the back after they fight beside us.”
He rises to his feet, scowling down at me. “You need to decide where your loyalties lie,brother.”
“They have always been with you,” I say, getting up myself and groaning. For a man in his late thirties, Alec can land quite a punch. “But there has to be a way to use the MacTavishes as an asset and still take our pound of flesh.”
Alec looks away, draining his glass of scotch.
“I’ll call you later,” I say, leaving the room. We’ve never turned our backs on each other in anger, but there’s nothing left to say.
“Alastair, is that you?”
Forcing a smile on my face, I turn to greet Alec’s mother. “Caroline, how are you?” I kiss her cheek.
“Is that- that’s blood?” Caroline says, a worried wrinkle between her brows. “Did something happen between you and my son?”
“Just a friendly disagreement,” I lie smoothly. “How are you?”
Alec likes to joke that his mother is his only redeeming quality. She managed to keep control over the Davies Mafia until he was old enough to take over. She stays here with him when she’s in London, though she’s been sending more time in her villa in Tuscany.
