Page 3 of Fight for You
“That was then, Jamie. You’re the big three-oh.Thirty. A grown man. You’ve had a girlfriend.” Dude’s expression showed uncertainty.
“Listen, I don’t understand you all’s need for an intervention. I haven’t crossed paths with anyone in Clan MacKenzie in over seven years …” A flash of a memory made my eyes close.Devi… I didn’t save that girl. That asinine prostitute, with corky hair and a mouth that soured compared to her honey skin. But now, there was someone else I could rescue. I tapped my knuckles against Leith’s chest. “I could use your help, actually.”
“What is it? Anything,” Leith promised. In his early forties, he was now dependable. Had a good head on his shoulders ever since he met his wife—they were kids then. He wasn’t involved in all Clan MacKenzie affairs. His parents’ Sundays were spent at church, while their basement hosted torture fests for the rest of the week.
I glared at the distant sun and then met Leith’s gaze. “What if the MacKenzies knew that my abductor …? What if?—?”
“The MacKenzies. Jamie, you are a Mac—” Leith slammed his own mouth shut.
“Listen tome, Leith.” I roughed a hand over my face, feeling the cool breeze from the coast, but it couldn’t lower the anger that rose into a heated rage. “What ifyourparents knew I wasn’t the only child my abductor had taken? What if those Scottish mobsters knew about the others?”
Leith paced the sidewalk, striking one hand against the other. “What others!”
“Weans, as your mother would say; other chil?—”
“Are you off your medication?” came another voice, deep with accusation. “And what do you mean, Leith’s mam?”
I threw a quick glance at Little Brody, who scratched at his beard. Ahh, the clan’s namesake wouldn’t sit this one out. So predictable.
My attention returned to the less morally corrupt of the two. “Leith, meet me at Michie’s if you want to continue this discussion.” I strolled around the matte grill of my Gladiator. I climbed into the truck, and Leith rounded on Brody.
“I had ourbràthairtalking. Why did you mention—” Leith’s Scottish accent leaped from his chest as I slammed the door shut. I presumed he was asking why Brody mentioned the medication. Yep. A sore topic. My knuckles tightened around the steering wheel.Brody, Leith, Cam, did you make sure your babybràthairtook his medication?
The anxiety meds and all the other pills the MacKenzies popped into me went for a swim in the toilet the second I considered joining the military. The mental health diagnoses that would’ve barred me from the Marine Corps, well, I got them to vanish too. Devi had died. And I’d …
I’d needed the rigorous training the military offered. Now, I needed Leith to meet me somewhere he detested.
Michie’s.
Twenty minutes later, I entered the sleek bar, passing plush chairs with mostly Japanese men in them, who wore suits, even on weekends.
At the bar, I ordered a Coke and glanced over my shoulder.C’mon, Leith. The guy should’ve gotten in his car the second he put Brody in his place. I had even sat in the parking lot for a while before coming inside.
The bartender placed the Coke in front of me and leaned her elbows on the counter as if to tempt me with her swoop-necked blouse. “Waiting for someone?”
“Yep.” I glanced toward the door again. Best not to give her any ideas. While those MacKenzies had questioned my sexuality in my early twenties, I’d never wanted anyone.No, wait. I had a thing for Camdyn’s wife back in high school and had almost gotten her away from him with a pack of Nutter Butters.
Who was I kidding? I’d gotten so obsessed with Willow’s safety that Uncle Nolan put me on a 72-hour psychiatric hold. At least I volunteered to be committed that time.I’d wanted to save Willow from Cam.That idiot had the worst case of survivor’s guilt. Camdyn—two years older than me—didn’t get snatched into that car at the park. Back then, though, she needed saving from Camdyn, but she’d done a heck of a better job at rescuing herself than I did, falling into a full-on psychosis.
A soft chuckle escaped me as I took a sip, my thoughts drifting to Jordyn.
Jordyn.Jordyn.Jordyn. I’d only known her for a short time, yet she’d affected me on such a visceral level that guilt and shame riddled me in therapy all my childhood. And I tossed her and all the others into a box in my mind. Labeled it repressed dreams. Dreams that I wouldn’t allow to consume my mind—while other nightmares took those honors.
Devi’s death seven years ago started to shatter that mental box I’d locked everything in. Joining the military, seeing a childlocked in a cage?Thatfinished the job. An image of Jordyn from our time in captivity burned into my memory. Never reported. Never … missed. I’d hired an art freelancer with ties to the FBI to recreate her face from my memories—anything to help. Nothing ever stuck. No child on the national missing persons sites, not even the FBI’s own database, looked like the girl in my mind.
Like Jordyn.
Was there hospital documentation of her birth? Had she been in school before someone took her? She was five when I met her. I was six. We’d never talked much. Too afraid of bringing attention our way. So, it took some real investigative work for me to find?—
A body slipped into the seat at my side. Without looking, I muttered, “Took you long enough.”
Leith snorted. “You’re aware of Michie’s attraction to my wife during Chevelle’s bartending stint here?”
“Yep.” Might’ve been fifteen, but I remembered.
A scoff. “Our restaurant is a couple of blocks over. You remember?”
“Yes, sir.” Drink to my lips, I chuckled. “Had to see if you really cared. You know, besides your intervention speech.”
