AllFreeNovel
Share Us
You’re probably wondering what awful fate fell upon my parents. We were living on top of the world before they died by the gun. Their demise should’ve cautioned me against all things Mackenzie. But I was twelve, and this was love. So that day, something greater, something more exhilarating than I could ever imagine was forged from the fear and hunger I had for Leith Mackenzie. I became his, he became mine. Still, I was my father’s daughter no matter how much I loathed admitting it. I knew the ins and outs of Dad’s life, had seen it all. So, I wouldn’t make the same mistakes momma had. But there was no way in hell I’d let Leith go.
Leith
Current Day
Keeping secrets from the one you love is a bad idea. Keeping secrets from a woman you personally taught how to shoot a .380, no matter how pink and frilly the gun is, well that makes me aglaikit (idiot).
Chevelle threatened me on our prom night. With her creamy tawny thighs clamped together she promised to unlock the key to her treasure. But I had to choose her or the power of my clan. Mackenzie’s dabble in it all. Racketeering. Robbery. Butchery of body parts. Arms dealing. Drugs.
Well, I said feck the family business. Not because I wanted to cut the tightest piece of pussy I would ever have.
Nae.
That ain’t me. Besides, the bonnie girl became mine the day somebampot,with his floppy wee baws, walked into her room naked as the day he was born.
I’ve never pushed drugs, and my parents wouldn’t have me do shite against my moral character. Ihadnever killed a man either. But the day Chevelle casually mentioned her adoptive mom crying about her highest paying john missing his usual time, I dinnae lie to her.
Aye, the John wasdeiderthan a wooden plank.
Nae, I’d notpersonallykilled him. My sweet, sweet Chevelle should have chosen her words wisely. My mam finished him off herself. Da watched, and he told all hisweans(children), me included to chop thenedinto wee pieces. “Do away with thepish,”he said.
Today is a new bloody day though. I have a wife that I’d move the fecking world over for, and I’m breaking her heart. She doesn’t even know it. I look at myself through the rearview mirror of my Audi convertible. My blue-green eyes bug.
“Feck!” I reach into the glove compartment to grab the baby wipes Chevelle stashed there and rub the speckles of blood from my jaw. My lovely wife will have so many words for me if she saw the faintest indication of blood. What happened,she’d ask.You’re not bleeding, she’d observe.Where’d the blood come from? Why aren’t you bleeding?I’d make a joke of my response, ask her why she’d want me to be bloody fecking bleeding? The attempt to see her smile would fall short, and in the end, I’d be fecked!
Last Sunday, I woke up with my wife, kissed my three-year-old on the forehead, traveled to Silicon Valley for the work week, and I wasn’t a murderer.
Today . . . I glance down at my hands. Nae matter how much I washed them. Red taints my nail beds and stains the grooves of my callused fingers.
“Breathe,” I warn myself, rubbing a baby wipe over the flecks. At least I’d tossed the suit I was wearing.
I get out of my Audi, slam the door, and edge around our muscle car. A Chevy. If it’s not an import, I’m a Chevy guy.
I head through the garage into our one-level home. The glass wall is along the Southern California coast of Laguna Niguel. On the balcony, a flight of stairs leads down to the beach. We had a fence put in the day Mia scoot-crawled across the deck. Another outdoor staircase leads above the house to a pool, jacuzzi and an area where Chevelle gardens.
I climb up the steps to the roof and glance past the custom outdoor kitchen to an area of potted plants.
“Go back inside, Leith.” I hear her voice before I can make out where Chevelle’s squatting down between potted plants. Thick, corks of hair rustle in the wind. All I see is the top of my wife’s head.
“Chevelle, ye said as soon as I got home to—”
“Leith, get!”
I told myself to exhale in the car. In this precise second, I do so. I breathe fecking easy.
“Glad to see someone’s happy to see me.” I mutter, though her moment of genius has secured my safety. Chevelle will either beg me to come running when she’s crossbreeding various herbs or shoo me away if she’s too engrossed in something new. That’s how I once was about computers and coding.
“You know I love you, baby. I’ll make it up to you later, bye!” A slender hand, with manicured fingers pops up between green foliage, pointing to a baby monitor. “Check on your minion.”
Though our Mia is now a wee tot, she’s a very busy wean.
Over my shoulder, I call out, “When I get out the shower, I expect me a frothy pint.”Make it five pints, enough kick to drink me under the bloody table.
With nothing but the sound of Chevelle’s snickering, I head back down the stairs, denouncing myself for the life we made for ourselves. The lifeImade for us as I step back into the house.
Chevelle has always been content in my arms. From what she’s shared about her parents in the past, which isn’t much, they had some money. Sometimes, she gets skittish around too much money, though.
I lean against the door to Mia’s room. The entire area is filled with princess furniture. In the center of the bed, my lassie sleeps. Her deep chestnut hair has muted fiery red highlights. Her chubby arms are raised over a humongous head I often tease her about.
