Maybe it shouldn’t be a shock. She’d been under the influence of powerful men all her life after all, surrounded by them since birth. The truth was, if a man wasn’t willing to be firm with her, she was going to walk all over him. Whisper played more than she should. She could take life seriously, but that outlook had only one end: a short drop and a sudden stop.
The daughter of the city’s biggest crime boss, as he had at least once been, couldn’t go through life taking every second seriously. Danger and violence had peppered her life. The best way to handle all the tragedy and terror was to have fun while life lasted. At the end of the day, Whisper was under no illusions that there was any hope she’d die an old woman, in her safe, cozy bed.
“Za—”
“Get up, out of the booth, and get your ass in the car… If you don’t, we’ll come for you… and you don’t want the McDades coming for you in force.”
Maybe she did. For a few seconds, Whisper’s mind wandered, picturing how that would go down. Zaid coming in with a posse of his men, guns drawn, fists raised, knocking down anyone who got in their way… Her husband crossing the room to drag her out… maybe by her hair.
The line disconnected to a droning sound that pulled her from the daydream. Breathing out, Whisper slid the phone back into her purse and hooked her hands onto the front of the table.
“What?” Mariana asked. “What is it?”
She whimpered. “I think I’m in trouble.”
Mariana was again leaning over the table as Paula swayed closer. “What?” Paula asked. “Did he threaten to hurt you?”
A shudder of unwelcome arousal wracked her.
Whisper closed her eyes and covered her face with both hands. “I think if he did, I would like it,” she said and slid her hands down enough to peek at her friends over the top of her fingertips. “I think I’m attracted to my husband.”
Paula’s mouth opened, but that was as much of a response as she could come up with.
Mariana licked her lips, pulling one into her mouth before scoffing out a laugh. “Oh my God,” she said. “I think you’re the first woman who’s ever said that as a bad thing.”
“You’re married to him,” Paula said. “You have to be attracted to him.”
Sitting up straight, Whisper took Paula’s hand across the table. “He’s a McDade, Paula, honey… They’re scum.”
“Isn’t that what they say about you?” Paula asked.
“It’s not like that, it’s not like…” Opening the hand that wasn’t holding Paula’s, Whisper tried to find the explanation. Coming up with the best way to make her point wasn’t easy, so she looked to Mariana. “Wanna help me out?”
“I think he’s hot,” Mariana said, picking up her drink. “I would definitely do your husband… I’m not even sure what my affiliation with your family is anymore…” She frowned at nothing and took a drink. “I’ve always been loyal to the Dohertys, but… aren’t the McDades the Dohertys now? I mean… aren’t you one and the same? Wasn’t that the point of you getting married?”
“It’s a lifetime of conditioning,” Whisper said. “My sister-in-law calls me an it… or she did until I sliced open my tongue and kissed her.”
Mariana grinned while Paula squeaked. “Can I see?”
Whisper waved her away. “It was just a tiny cut, it’s gone now. It’s not like I gashed myself open. She just has no sense of humor.”
“You are a little off the wall sometimes,” Paula said.
“She called me It,” Whisper said. “You’re lucky I only cut myself… I have a reputation to maintain.”
“You’ve never been the most violent Doherty.”
“No,” she said, her attention drifting to her drink. “Not until the majority of us died anyway…” Glancing at her friends, she wasn’t surprised to see their somber expressions. “Don’t I have to be a little bit more insane now to uphold the family name? These stories, they make or break a family. True or not, we have to be insane. We have to be violent. We have to instill fear and curiosity and trepidation… Without Keegan and Adan, who are we supposed to rely on? Caelan? Miles? The worst thing he ever did was snap the heads off my dolls as a child… Keegan would set them on fire… Adan would strap them to bricks and toss them in the river…”
Mariana smiled. “What would you do?”
“Dismember them and slice the lengths in half,” she said, tossing another mouthful of her drink into her throat. “I better go before he sends Bosco.”
Grabbing her purse, Whisper shimmied down the seat. “You guys have fun.” Taking a credit card from her purse, she tossed it on the table. “Compliments of the McDades.”
Leaving the bar left her feeling sick and sad, two of her least favorite things. Her father’s clock meant time was running out. If she didn’t show progress with the McDades in the next day or so, Whisper might be joining the brothers she missed so much.
“You led me to believe you were going to be wild and uncontrollable.”
In Kitty’s that night, the family table was central, between the columns in the space that had been vacant during their reception. Sitting next to Zaid, Whisper held the weight of her head on her hand that was plastered to her cheek.
The limo hadn’t taken her back to the house. The family meal was at Kitty’s, which made sense because there were more than just immediate McDades there. Two other tables stood parallel to theirs, front and back. Doran sat at the head of one of the other tables. Burl sat at the head of their table with Parker and Zaid at each side of him, their dutiful wives next to them.
There had to be thirty McDades in the room, maybe more. Whisper hadn’t lifted her head for long enough to count.
“I’m tired,” she murmured, drawing a fingertip over the edge of her napkin that was flat on the table.
Dinner was done and the drinking had begun. It was late. Her subdued mood was nothing to do with exhaustion. The conversation she’d had with her girls earlier still rattled around in her mind.
“I don’t believe you.”
Just the words were enough to make her raise her head. When Whisper turned toward him and saw how intent he was on her, she froze under his gaze. The rest of the room was alive with noise and joviality. There was music and laughter. Without the Dohertys in the room, the McDades knew how to relax and have a good time.
It was just a shame that Whisper wasn’t in the mood.
“Your family aren’t scum,” she murmured.
The shiver of numbness across her shoulders suggested her brothers were turning in their graves.
Zaid didn’t respond to her words, he just kept on looking right through her. “What do you need?” he asked. “Tell me and you’ll get it.”
Although there were no outward signs of it, Whisper could almost feel his desire to help her, or maybe it was a desire to fix her. Fixing her would solve a lot of his problems. Like how inconvenient it would be if she was melancholy later when he wanted his cock sucked.
For a minute, the thought of asking for a kiss flitted through her thoughts. She wouldn’t do it. Wouldn’t ever be able to do it. Risking any chance that it might mean something to either of them wasn’t worth it. In her current mood, Whisper was already vulnerable. If she asked him to screw her, she’d end up doing something insane like crying. That was something she’d never done in front of another person in her entire life.
Pushing herself a little further his way, Whisper licked her lips. “I want them to burn,” she whispered. “I want you to help me burn their house down.”
“The Byrnes?” She nodded. Touching the corner of her mouth with a fingertip, he trailed it to her chin. “Peanut, I thought you’d never ask.”
He surged to his feet so suddenly that she gasped. Zaid gave Parker and his father a nod, which brought them both to their feet too. After gathering Doran and one or two others, the men went to a table next to the stage. It had been occupied, until those sitting at it saw who was coming. They bolted fast when Zaid and his group approached.
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Whisper was still watching them when someone dropped into the seat next to hers.
“What’s going on?” Nicole asked, probably watching the group too.
“I think I… showed him trust… or maybe gained his…”
Enough of it to appease her father anyway. Whisper didn’t know exactly what was going on over there. But she’d bet they weren’t making Christmas plans.
All weekend she’d been thinking of ways to provoke the McDades into holding up their end of the deal. That was what her father wanted. Even in the moments she believed progress was possible, it was never with Zaid. Doran was the only one of the brothers who’d spoken to her. Even then, he seemed more interested in making sure Nicole was happy than forming any kind of connection to anyone else.
Bosco was the only McDade who treated her as anything even resembling a friend. They weren’t buddies. They didn’t sit and chat or seek each other out. The bar was low, but when it came to treating her as a human being, he got highest marks.
Watching her husband at the table with his father and brothers, Whisper began to feel like a part of the family. Even if it didn’t last, the illusion of it was seductive. All she’d had to do was ask. That was her position in the McDade family. As a wife to one of the heirs, it didn’t matter if she was loved or even liked. Zaid’s response to her question was the greatest show of respect she’d experienced yet.
Whisper wanted something, so she’d asked her husband for it. Without question, he’d granted her request. No fuss. No begging. Just… done.
Whisper couldn’t remember ever being so excited about a night out in her life. It was typical for her and the girls to go out on a Friday. She always looked forward to it but never to such a high degree.
Working late on Friday was the norm for her too. Whisper had her routine down. She started work late, came home late, and went out to party late. And that was fine; they weren’t refused entry anywhere no matter what time they showed up.
Getting ready with a bottle of wine at her side was usual too. In the closet, admiring herself in the vanity mirror, Whisper finished with her lip-gloss, signaling it was time to leave. At midnight, her girlfriends would be waiting for her at the back door of Scooby’s.
A sudden bang from the bedroom startled her. Tossing her lip-gloss onto the vanity, she left the closet to investigate. Zaid was in the bedroom peeling off his jacket.
“What are you doing—” Her words died in her throat when he turned to reveal blood on his chin and forehead. “Oh my God, what happened?”
“Intercepted a little product handover,” he said, without objecting when she pushed him to the bed. “No big deal.”
“Product handover,” she said, dropping to her knees to unlace his boots and pull them off. “Drugs… whose drugs… because whoever it was, they didn’t hand them over willingly.”
When his boots were off, she scooped an arm under his legs indicating he should raise them to the bed. He took the hint and shifted back to lean on the headboard.
“Oh God,” she said again, climbing onto the bed on her knees by his side to inspect the cut on his head and the gashes on his knuckles. “Stay here.”
Running into the bathroom, she filled a basin with warm water and grabbed medical supplies from under the sink along with a clean wash cloth. Taking everything to the nightstand, she climbed onto the bed again.
Kneeling next to him, Whisper held his chin to begin cleaning the cut on his head. “You could’ve been killed, you know,” she said, ignoring his hiss. He tried to pull away, but her grip on his chin didn’t let him get far. The antiseptic wipes were next and he wouldn’t like those any better. “People carry guns out there.”
“We carry guns,” he said, trying to pull away again.
Grabbing his tee-shirt in her fists, she climbed over to straddle his lap and clutched his face tighter. The blood on his chin just wiped off. That meant it was someone else’s, which was good… or was it? Her sense of relief was unexpected.
His black tee-shirt made it difficult to see if he had other injuries.
Whisper took the hem and raised it up. “Were you hit?”
He sat up to let her pull his tee-shirt off over his head. Once it was on the floor, she could examine his body. Quickly, Whisper figured out that might not have been the best of ideas. She’d never been as close to him. Not in that position. His impressive physique begged her fingers to explore.
Her mouth began to water. His broad shoulders and solid arms had been obvious to her since day one. His tee-shirts strained around his muscles; it wasn’t like she’d been completely oblivious to his remarkable form. Once or twice, while blowing him, she’d even gotten a peek at his abs. But it was only in that moment she realized he was either clothed or at least in a tee-shirt every time he got oral. He slept in the tee-shirt from what she could tell. Though why he’d do that when he had such an incredible stature to show off, Whisper had no idea.
“Why are you all dressed up?” he asked, a scowl on his face, which she only saw when she snapped out of her daze.
“I’m going out,” she said, leaning in to touch the cut on his head. No matter how tempting it was, she wouldn’t let her body touch his. “Did you fall down? Hit your head?”
“No,” he said. “Where do you think you’re going at midnight?”
“Out,” she said, leaning over to the nightstand to retrieve the butterfly stitches. “Do you know what day of the week it is?”
“Friday if it’s still before midnight. Where are you going at midnight?”
For some reason, the time seemed relevant to him. “To a club,” she said. “Do you know who I am?”
“You’re Peanut.”
Though he was in a grump, as always, he made her smile. Whisper peeled one of the butterfly stitches from its backing and leaned in to position it in the right way.
“Hold my waist,” she said, because her body resting on his wouldn’t help any injuries he might have. He did as she said and she put the stitch on before returning her focus to the pack. “You never use my name.”
“That’s ‘cause I don’t know your name, Doherty.”
“My first name,” she said, concentrating on placing another stitch. “You never use it.”
“You have a stupid name.”
Her grin widened, but just for a moment. Whisper resorted to outrage. “I do not!” Easing back to meet his eye, she let some of her amusement show. “What a terrible thing to say to your wife.”
“My wife has a stupid name,” he said. “Why would I want to use your name when it sounds like a command?”
“Whisper?” she asked, tilting her head. “You like giving me commands. You do it enough.”
“Yeah, ‘cept I don’t want you to whisper. I want to make you scream.”
Though he wasn’t explicit, she got the impression he wasn’t talking about pain. Zaid was forceful about what he wanted when she had her mouth around him. But she had to be fair and acknowledge that he had never raised his hands to her… not yet anyway.
“Scream,” she murmured, leaning a little closer. His grip on her waist tightened, but it allowed her to get nearer. “How would you do that, husband?”
Moving in, she could taste his breath and thought they might break the boundary neither had stated, but both seemed to respect.
“Razer?”
The female voice from the doorway interrupted them. Whisper pulled back to see Nicole was in their bedroom doorway.
“Nicole, what is it?” Zaid asked, his voice deep and commanding again, not at all like the man who’d just been bonding with her.
“Doran’s bleeding pretty bad and we’ve got some guys bleeding in the kitchen.”
“I’ll go,” Whisper said when Zaid began to lift her from his lap. Picking up one of the ice-packs, she snapped it and handed it over to him. “Hold it to your head with your knuckles, it will soothe the swelling on both at the same time. I’ll come back to check you didn’t break any bones later. I’ll have
to wake you to check for concussion anyway.”
“Wake me?” he barked. “I’m not going to sleep.”
On her feet, Whisper pushed on his shoulders when he tried to get up. “Please. If it looks like Doran is in trouble, I’ll come get you, I promise… otherwise, all you’ll do is increase his chance of infection.” Smiling, she smoothed a hand across his forehead. “Please lie down, baby.” Something flashed in his eyes. Her use of the endearment surprised her as much as it did him, but she kept stroking his hair until he relaxed. “Please.”
When he gave in and lay down, she smiled and bowed to kiss his forehead. That was as much as he’d get until she saw to everyone else. Whisper whirled around to start toward Nicole.
“Can you… handle this?” Nicole asked as they went down the stairs. “There’s a few of them.”
Whisper just smiled. “I’ve been patching up thugs since I was in diapers… Bring me warm, clean water, and all the medical supplies you have… it could be a long night.”
Wrong wasn’t exactly the right word; she hadn’t been wrong. It just so happened Whisper underestimated what would be needed. Those worst off were put on cots in the living room. The scene was bad, but not as dire as it could have been. Most of the guys were just stealing a chance to be in the McDade home. They wouldn’t get many opportunities to hang out there; they took what they could get.
Doran looked worse than he was. He’d been sliced, but the cut wasn’t deep enough to penetrate the abdominal muscle, so it was fine.
The number of guys needing care had been a surprise, sure. The bigger surprise was witnessing Dohertys mixed with McDades. Apparently, they’d been fighting shoulder to shoulder, muscling in on a large Byrne shipment. Needless to say, the Byrnes hadn’t wanted to part with it and the McDade-Doherty side didn’t ask for permission to take it.
Only Yours (A McDade Brothers Novel Book 2) Page 8