Family Tied (Being A Wade Book 1)

by Annie Hughes

  "Ray, when exactly are you going to call him out on this?" My best friend says.

  I turn in time to see her pointing her lipstick stained wine glass at me. Her eyes are hard, silently judging my inability to confront my doubts. Well, not so silently. Leigh isn't one for subtlety, and is the first to pull a person up on their shit. But she doesn't know the family, doesn’t understand the unspoken rules and the way things have to be. There’s next to nothing I can do here, except leave Dylan. But even that’s only a tiny option, as I really don’t want to. Plus, I know too much. Once you’re let in to the Wade way of life, you very rarely get back out.

  "Haven't you got a date tonight?"

  A wicked smirk creeps across her face. "Yes, yes I do." She stands, places her now empty glass on the counter, and kisses the side of my face. "And this isn't over. Don't think I don't want to know what the deal is with you making dinner for the wrong Wade." She laughs loud. “Even if he has got the best ass in Parkington.”

  My eyes roll dramatically in her direction. "When I know, you'll know."

  After a long goodbye, she leaves, and I'm left alone in the apartment. It’s a short solace though, as the voices of Roman, Lenny, and Jack filter through. Despite the awkwardness, I smile to myself. Lenny and Jack are two of my most favorite people in the universe. They’re so ridiculous, that it’s hard not to love them.

  “Ray! Where you at?”

  “In here, asshole. Quit yelling,” I call back to Lenny.

  His face appears in the doorway less than a second later, a wide smile spreading across his face. I laugh when Jack joins him, matching the smile.

  “You look like fucking Siamese cats when you do that.”

  “Yeah, but we leave a lasting impression, right bro?” Jack replies to me.

  Lenny nods. “Right.”

  “You’re feeding our little brother,” Lenny says.

  I shake my head as Roman joins us, and slumps down on the table. The twins follow suit.

  “He lives here,” I shrug.

  “Can we move in?” Jack asks. “Because that smells awesome.”

  “No. We’re not taking in strays.”

  I shoot them a wry smile with my words, then turn back to the oven. No one will be eating anything unless I finish cooking it. Whilst the sauce bubbles, I begin to grab everything for the salad. The twins leave after a few minutes of idle chatting with Rome, both kissing my cheek on their way out. The room automatically gets hotter with just Rome and me in here. He’s looking at me now, watching as I set our places at the table. My mouth dries a little as his eyes gaze all over me, leaving a burning trail in their wake. Damn it. Why the hell am I having this reaction to him? I’ve noticed this a few times over the past couple of weeks. I’ve been trying my best to get on with him, to not want to kill him, and it’s getting easier. The problem I have now is I’m getting too comfortable with him, and that is really not good. It doesn’t help that Leigh reminds me every time I see her that Roman is a very attractive man. Like I haven’t already noticed. I swear, there’s something in the Wade blood, because I’ll be damned if the men it produces aren’t the prettiest fucking things to walk the earth. Even Charles had been a looker in his day, and Craig continues to fuck everything he can.

  “Do you need me to do anything?” Roman asks, finally breaking eye contact.

  “Um, could you grab the salad and bread?”

  “Sure.”

  He sidles up beside me and takes the two serving bowls from the counter, then heads back to the table. I follow him with the pasta and sauce, placing it down at the center of the table. We both sit, an awkward silence descended over us. Despite our almost-truce, we don’t tend to spend a lot of time with each other like this. I mean, when he’s not out with Dyl, he tends to be in the apartment at night near me, but we don’t converse, or hang out. Being this close to him is kind of weird, and the fucked up feelings I’m having about him are not helping. This is Dylan’s fault, because the fucker has been too busy to be with me.

  Before any of us can fill our plates, Roman’s cell rings. He pulls it from his pocket, glancing nervously at the screen before answering.

  “Hey, Pop. What’s up? …what?” He looks over at me. “Where’s Dylan? Right. Shit, are you okay? Yeah, I will. Uh huh. Okay, I’ll see you up there.”

  He hangs up the call and looks at me, pain in his eyes. Oh shit. What is it? Is it Dylan? No…

  “Ray, we gotta go,” he says, already standing from the table.

  “Why? What’s going on?”

  “It’s Charles. He’s dead.”

  Oh shit.

  Dylan Wade

  Whoever said funerals are a good way to say goodbye, obviously never gave a shit about who they were burying. I stand, staring at the freshly filled grave of my father, the man that raised me into the man I am today, and I don’t feel good about it at all. Rayleigh stands beside me, her frail hand clinging to my own, but I don’t feel it. Just like I don’t feel the supportive hand clapped on my back by Roman as he flanks my other side. I don’t feel anything but the sick dread of responsibly. You’ve left some pretty big shoes to fill, Dad. What the hell am I supposed to do here? The grief consumes me, wraps around my bones and fills my veins. I let it fuel my body, giving me the strength to do what needs to be done. I will run this family, I will look after what he built, and I’ll damn well make sure no one forgets the Wade name.

  I won’t let you down, Dad.

  Roman Wade

  I stare blankly at Dylan as he continues to speak. He can’t be serious. We’ve done some pretty fucked up things in our time, most of it my idea, but this? This is completely fucking insane. After only 6 shorts weeks of business with Joey McDowell, Dyl is talking about breaking our deal. Was he mad? Joey McDowell is a fucking psychopath.

  “Come on, Rome. We’d make so much more from doing this shit ourselves. We know his supplier, we know his customers. We cut off our ties to him, and then deal it from here, from Wade. We’d be fucking rolling in it.”

  I shake my head at him as he lifts his third beer to his lips and takes a long drink. I’ve noticed several things over the last few weeks since Charles’ death about him that have changed, and the drinking is one of them. It’s not like he’s an alcoholic or anything, but he definitely drinks more than he used to. I’ve also noticed how making money is now priority number one, which really isn’t like Dyl. Not at all. He always thinks about the money last, barely spending what was handed to him. Now though, now it is all about making as much as he can, no matter how dangerous it gets. His dad dying has really done a fucking number on him.

  “Dyl, bro, this really isn’t a good idea. I know Joey, and he’ll tear you apart for screwing him,” I say, hoping to get through.

  McDowell is a monster. He does what he wants and doesn’t give a shit who he hurts on the way. He’s been in this business longer than most, as long as my old man, and knows it backwards. He’ll know what Dylan is doing, and he’ll get payback in the worst possible way.

  “How would he know? We tell him we don’t want his business anymore, plain and simple. Then after a few weeks, we start up on our own, straight from the supplier so we can sell it all cheaper. He ever gets in touch and asks why? We say the demand got too high, and we didn’t want a middle man, didn’t want to have to charge more to our beloved neighbors.” He laughs. “I can’t believe you’re actually holding back on this. I thought you of all people would have been on board.” A knowing smile plasters across his face. “You always were about the money.”

  I snort. “Yeah and look where that got me.” I let out a long breath. I haven’t been back in the Inner Circle long enough to pout about decisions, so what choice do I have but to agree? “I’m with you whatever you do, you know that. You gotta run all this past the rest of them though, including my old man.”

  His eyes touch the ceiling before he brings them back to me. “I don’t have to do shit. It’s already taken care of.”

  “What do you mea
n?” I ask cautiously.

  Please tell me you haven’t.

  He stands and motions for Kade to follow him as he walks away. Just before they reach the door he turns to me.

  “I ended our deal with McDowell three days ago. It’s done, over, and I haven’t heard shit from him. I’ll see you later.”

  I curse at his retreating back then grab my gym bag off the bar counter and leave the building. I can hear them laughing as they climb into Dylan’s Escalade, but I ignore it and walk down the street in the opposite direction. Fuck knows where they were heading. If he really has done that, it’ll explain why I haven’t heard from Joey in a while. Would have been nice if he told me though, seeing as though I set the thing up. I make a mental note to call Joey later, then walk the short walk to the gym. I throw my bag in a locker when I arrive before heading out the main room. The sound of flesh hitting the bag has me turning and spotting Rayleigh in the corner with a look of fury on her face as she pounds her fist over and over again.

  Jeez. No wonder her hands are always torn to shit.

  She’s been quiet since Uncle Charles died. I can see the hesitance in her whenever Dylan is in the apartment, and I’ve heard them arguing more than a few times. She stays out most of the time now, either here or at Leigh’s.

  “Yo, Wade!”

  I turn to the sound of my friend shouting me across the gym, ignoring the intense burn I get in the side of my face. I always felt like that when she looked at me. Carter jogs over to me.

  “Hey, man. What’s up?”

  He grins next to me. “I’m glad you finally decided to grace me with your presence at a reasonable hour.”

  I laugh. He has a point. Carter owns the gym, taking it over from his own father, Walter Nolan, a couple of years back. I’ve been training with him since I got back here, but only coming after normal closing hours. I know Rayleigh comes here a lot, with it being the only gym in town, and I didn’t want to risk being here at the same time, out of fear it’d break the little bullshit truce spell we seem to be under. I wince as the pounding on the bag reconvenes.

  “Ray!” Carter shouts. I turn with him to face her as she stops and looks over. “Come here,” he adds.

  I glare at the beam on his face. He knows the history between us, hell everyone in town does. But he also knows that I try to avoid her as much as I can. She might be being civil with me, but the anger is still there, especially with how Dylan is lately. They were already walking on rocks, now they’re tiptoeing on eggshells. I can feel the rage radiating off her whenever I’m near. Like now, a sharp bolt of lightning as she comes to a stop beside us.

  “What?” She asks, her focus on him.

  “I think it’s about time you started pounding on something that can hit you back.”

  Oh shit.

  “Why Nolan, fancy your chances?” She smirks.

  She won’t be smirking in a second. Definitely not. But maybe I should have offered my face as her punching bag a while ago. I imagine it’s exactly what she needs right now.

  “Not me, but I reckon you could ease some frustration kicking this guy’s ass,” he laughs, inclining his head in my direction.

  Her eyes snap to me and I hold my arms up in defense.

  “Not my idea. I just walked through the door.” I turn to Carter. “How about I kick your ass?”

  The amusement never leaves his face and I swallow the urge to punch it out of him. By the look on Rayleigh’s face, she’s having the same problem.

  “Look, the way I see it is, I have two clients who both need to hit something. Why not each other? Personally Wade, I reckon she’ll own you, but you never know.” He turns to face Rayleigh as she practically vibrates with fury beside me. “Come on Ray, I fucking know you’ll enjoy this.”

  “I’m not laying a single fucking finger on her,” I say, finally.

  “Fine, you can just stand there and let her lay fists on you. Come on, into the ring.”

  He walks off before either of us can respond. What the fuck? I turn to her the same time she turns to me and my head shakes from side to side slowly.

  “He can’t be fucking serious,” she says, the disbelief obvious in her voice.

  I look back at him as he stands, waiting. “I think he is,” I muse.

  When she huffs, I speak again. “Look, I’ll just go. I shouldn’t have come here anyway. I just needed to blow off some steam.”

  I begin to turn but she stops me by placing her hand on my arm. I freeze from the contact, so small yet so promising, and turn to her with the question in my eyes.

  What are you doing?

  “We have to. You’re a Wade. You can’t be seen walking away from a sparring match with a girl,” she says softly. I look down at her hand and she pulls it back quickly and clears her throat. “Besides, he’s right,” she laughs. “I’ll own your ass.”

  She walks off then and I’m left standing alone watching her move away. I groan inwardly. She was right, I had to do this. Besides, if I let her win, people will see she’s not to be messed with. Hopefully that will keep her safe if (when) Dylan fucks up this deal. If not, I plan to make it my mission that no one touches her without going through me. I just have to do it without her knowing, just like college. Perfect.

  I shrug off my doubts and stroll over. A small crowd has formed around the ring but I ignore their stares and climb in to meet Carter and Rayleigh. She’s stood in the corner talking to one of the guys there, a big guy who looks about as soft as a brick wall. I can see the kindness in his eyes though as he looks at her. They’re clearly friends. Carter’s voice distracts me.

  “Well gentlemen,” he looks to Rayleigh, “and ladies. We have ourselves an interesting spar pair up that I’m sure you’ll all enjoy.”

  I roll my eyes. Get on with it.

  “To the left,” he teases and points to Rayleigh. “We have Rayleigh Stevens, small but I can tell you from experience, she has a mean arm. And to my right.” His hand is now aimed at me. “We have Roman Wade, the man himself. I think you all know what his arm can do,” he smirks.

  I glare in his direction as the few people around us begin to laugh.

  “Alright wiseass, can it,” I growl, which only causes his amusement to grow.

  Carter has always been a joker, quick with one-liners which are almost always at the expense of other people. He’d been on the football team with me in both high school and college, and if it wasn’t for that, I’d have probably punched him out a few times. He is an annoying fucker at times. Like now, for instance. Cater jumps down and I walk further into the ring, Rayleigh doing the same as the gym falls quiet. My eyes silently question her, are you sure? She nods slightly and her gaze hardens on me. I keep my arms by my side, not entirely believing she was okay with this.

  “Rayleigh,” I say, quiet enough that only she can hear me. “I need you to tell me you’re okay with this.”

  She doesn’t say a word. Instead, before I know what’s happening, her fist connects with my jaw sending my head snapping back. Carter was right; she does have a mean arm. I bring my eyes back level with hers and finally put arms up, adjusting my stance as she smirks at me.

  I guess we’re really doing this.

  Rayleigh Stevens

  My body screams at the release I’m getting as I stare at Roman, watching as he wipes his hand across his mouth. We’ve been at this for over 20 minutes, and with every hit I can feel more and more of the rage inside me slipping away. I need this, need to vent my anger on the person that brought it all at bay. I’m exhausted, sweaty, and hot. My hands ache and my body is beginning to sag. It’s taking everything I have to hold on, but I’ve never felt so fucking alive. The anticipation in the room has doubled since we started, everyone on edge as they watch us. I can’t blame them though. It’s no secret that Roman and I don’t really see eye to eye. Plus, we both belong to the same family. I know people are still cautious about Roman’s return, and I know that they are waiting for it all to blow up, especially after Cha
rles dying. I also know that Roman couldn’t really have walked away from this, even if he wanted to. It would have made him look weak and the family wouldn’t allow that. Now, more than ever, the family need to look strong, even if behind closed doors, we’re all falling apart. It’s the same reason I hadn’t walked away either. That, and I really want to hit him.

  He sways slightly as he takes a step towards me.

  It took him a while to get into this, and to throw the first punch. I could tell he was hesitant, could tell he didn’t want to hurt me. But now, now he could see that I need it, and I could see he needs it, too. The last few weeks have shown me that he didn’t hate me, and I know for sure he wants to fix things, but I know the resentment is still there. And now, as his eyes level with my own, both of us stripped bare to our raw emotions, I can see it.

  He looks down, blood splattering across his sweat-ridden, white shirt and mumbles something to himself before lifting the hem and pulling it over his head. I can’t stop myself from roaming over his physique. The man has a great body, a really fucking great body. Rome is good looking, that much has always been obvious. It was why he had a line of girls waiting to jump into his bed back in college. But now, as he stands before me with the perfect washboard abs and ruggedly handsome face, I can really see why. And I really shouldn’t be staring at him. What the hell is wrong with me? I shake it off and focus my eyes back on his as I raise my arms again. He swings, just narrowly missing my nose and I thank whatever brain cell told my legs to step back as I certainly wasn’t about to. I take advantage of the opportunity and hit him under the chin in a strong uppercut. The force causes him to stumble back so I move forward, swinging again at his face. I miss though, his arm coming up just in time to block my fist. Roman swings again. I take the hit hard in my jaw, and bring my own fist into his stomach. He grunts as he folds over briefly. I ignore the pain radiating across my face and let my arm fly at him again, landing by his ear. He curses but I don’t stop, and continue to pummel him with punch after punch as he steps back. I can’t stop, the sudden rage emitting from me and coursing through my body. Images of the cold, crappy basement he locked me in flash through my mind, followed by conflicting images of him being with me whilst Dyl has been off dealing with the business over the past few weeks.