Unworthy Heart: The Donnellys, Book 1

by Dorothy F. Shaw

  “Reading my mind, Ry.”

  They settled on the back patio, a beer in hand, and watched their father help Jacob knock around a plastic golf ball. Jimmy leaned back in his seat, crossed his long legs at the ankle and looked at Ryan. His hazel eyes flashed with something akin to mischief in them.

  “Uh oh. You look like the cat who ate the canary.” Ryan tipped back his beer.

  Jimmy wagged his brows. “Wanna go to Vegas tonight?”

  “Dude, you’re nuts.”

  “I don’t like the sounds coming from both of you,” their father called over to them.

  “Wha—” Ryan leaned forward. “It’s him, Dad. You know he’s the trouble maker.”

  “I know you’re both the trouble makers,” Joseph Sr. said, then focused back on Jacob.

  “Come on, Mom and Dad will watch Jacob. We can fly in tonight and back out tomorrow morning,” Jimmy whispered.

  Ryan shook his head. “I dunno, man. I can’t just do that kind of thing, you know that.” He took a swig of beer.

  “Yeah, yeah I know. But hey, when was the last time we got to hang out? I’m asking Mom.”

  “Why do I feel like I’m sixteen again?” Ryan chuckled. “Fine, go ask her.”

  Jimmy stood. “Shit, sixteen? I think twenty-one is better.”

  “Right, so we can both drink legally and be prosecuted as adults in a court of law?”

  “You got it.” Jimmy gave him a thumb’s-up and walked in the house. “Hey, Mom?”

  Vegas? He could handle some Vegas right now. Blowing off some steam with his brother might be just what he needed. Ryan leaned back in the chair and mulled it over. Realization barreled through his mind. Maiya. Maiya lived in Vegas. Ryan rushed into the kitchen to help butter Mom up. When he got inside, Jimmy had already charmed—bribed—her to take Jacob for tonight and tomorrow.

  His brother had a smile that got him whatever he wanted, and if it didn’t, he found a way to get what he wanted anyway. Out of all the boys, Jimmy was the silver-tongued devil of the Donnelly family; considering his tongue was now pierced the label was never truer. Ryan searched his mother’s face wanting to be sure she was really on board with this. “Are you sure, Mom?”

  “It’s fine.” She kissed his cheek. “Go have some fun with your brother.”

  “Told you she’d do it,” Jimmy gloated. “Ooh, Mom. This looks delicious.”

  “Thank you, James. You two are on cleanup.” She winked and moved the platter of pot roast and vegetables to the table. “Someone call your father and Jacob to the table, please.”

  Neither one was a request, even if she did say “please”. When Roseanne Donnelly told her kids to do something, they did it. The woman had raised ten of them and not one dared to defy her, even now. Excitement bounced through Ryan, and he exchanged a grin with Jimmy.

  Talk about feeling like kids again.

  It’d been a long day and all Maiya wanted to do was curl up on the couch with a movie. She stared at her phone several times, even picked it up once or twice to text Ryan. But in the end, she decided to leave it alone. If he really wanted to talk, he’d contact her.

  Her phone buzzed and she grabbed it up so fast she almost flung it across the room. “Shit.” She checked the text.

  Heather: You home?

  Maiya: Watching TV. You?

  Heather: Get off the couch. Let’s go shake our asses at the club.

  Maiya: I’m too tired.

  Maiya curled her feet under her and the phone buzzed again.

  Heather: Maiya, come on. You’re only 29. Live a little. Get your lazy ass up and meet me at the club. It’s freak night.

  Maiya: Fuck’s sake, Heather. Leave my ass out of this! What time?

  Heather: YAY! Ten. I’ll meet you at the back bar.

  Maiya: Fine. See ya there.

  Tossing her phone on the couch, Maiya blew out a breath. So much for a quiet night at home. At least she’d work out some stress on the dance floor. A few drinks would be nice too. Plus, Heather, and any drama following her, would make for a great distraction.

  She dragged her worn-out ass off the couch and made her way to the bathroom. Time to do her hair, and since it’d dried all pulled up in a scrunchie, she needed to wet it and dry it and curl it and… Oh hell. What was she thinking? Baseball cap. Jeans. Done.

  An hour later, Maiya pulled into the parking lot behind the club, finding a spot in the far back. She checked her lips in the mirror and then gathered all the essentials. Walking around to the front of the large, two-story building, she glanced at the club’s twenty-foot pink neon sign. It flickered in spots, but was pretty against the star-filled Vegas sky.

  Tangled was located about five miles off The Strip. Each night was a different theme, and tonight was Freak Night—one of her favorite nights to go dancing there. Freak night meant any local goth, metal head, patchouli-wearing, hookah-smoking, Harley-riding, tattooed or pierced freak within a twenty mile radius showed up—a melting pot of anyone who ever rebelled against societal norms, and even those who didn’t. College boys and girls—pretty boys and girls, as she liked to call them—mixed in the fray with the dropouts, blue-collar workers and day laborers. And the DJ played anything from Nine Inch Nails to Yaz.

  It was cool, and what made it even cooler was her choice of dress on these nights: Jeans, tank top, work boots or Chucks, and always her cap. Tonight she wore a low-cut, white cotton ribbed tank with a black bra, faded blue jeans and her black work boots. Simple and comfy.

  Maiya bypassed the long line in her usual fashion and headed for the door of the club. When she stepped in front of the head bouncer, he pulled her into a hug. She gave him a squeeze. “Hiya, Jay. Good to see you, hon.”

  Jay was a six-foot-five, two-hundred-and-fifty pound, muscle-bound black man. But to her, he was a teddy bear who gave awesome hugs. The man had a smile genuine enough to light up every heart on The Strip, coupled with gorgeous deep-brown eyes. He’d make some lucky girl a happy woman one day, if he ever managed to stop playing with the clientele.

  “Always a pleasure, sweetness. Go on in, the door’s always open for you, gorgeous.”

  “Aw, thanks, honey. You’re too good to me.” She kissed his cheek and walked inside.

  The first thing to hit Maiya was the sweet smell of vapor from the fog machine. They had multiple smoke eaters and a vaulted ceiling so there was only a slight lingering of cigarette smoke. She smoked, but she didn’t want to bathe in it. Most times she took her smoke breaks on the outdoor terrace running along the side of the building on the second floor.

  Tangled had a Victorian goth meets industrial steel feel to it—dark and easy for her to lose herself deep within the beat of the music, drinks and the movement of the bodies around her. Perfect.

  Maiya walked around the edge of the large oval dance floor toward the back bar with a smile. She was glad she’d come. Being in the club was better than sitting home waiting for her phone to ring. A few friends nodded their greetings. Among them a former bedmate or two. Maybe she’d take one home tonight. Maiya groaned. The idea soured before she could fully consider it. And Ryan was the reason.

  Ryan wasn’t her man, and he sure as hell hadn’t made any claim on her. Glancing around the crowd, she sighed. Maiya was free to do as she pleased. So why did the thought of letting another man touch her make her want to hurk up her dinner? Brushing off the feeling, Maiya tossed Eric, the head bartender, her credit card.

  Eric propped his elbows on the bar top. “How ya doin’, sexy?”

  “I’m fucking fabulous. Vodka cranberry?” Stretching over the bar top, she gave him a peck on the cheek.

  “Coming right up. Heather’s here. She said tell you she’d be right back.”

  Maiya smiled. “Fucking fabulous.”

  He laughed and slid the drink her way. “Here you go. This one’s on me.”
>
  “Triple fucking fabulous.” She sipped the cocktail through the straw. “Everything will be fucking fabulous tonight because I deem it so.”

  “Anything you say, Maiya.” He shook his head. “Crazy girl. Lookin’ hot tonight.”

  She tipped her hat. “Fabulous, I’m looking fucking fabulous, Eric.”

  “That too, sexy. That too.”

  She faced the dance floor and waited for Heather to come back from wherever she’d gone off to. Type O Negative’s cover of “Cinnamon Girl” came on and Maiya set her drink on the bar. “Eric, I’m dancing. Tell Heather, yeah?”

  He gave her a nod and she walked to the dance floor. A minute later Heather was next to her. Maiya pulled the brim of her hat low and got down to business. Moving in time with Peter Steele’s deep voice, she let her stress fly free. The tension in her shoulders eased a bit. She loved to dance, and she needed to lose herself for a little while. The fog blasted from overhead and the corners of the floor. White mist rolled between the crowds, creating the illusion of separation.

  And then she was lost to the music.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Ryan walked up the jetway with his duffel bag in hand and navigated around a group taking pictures when they reached the terminal. “Where are we going to stay?”

  “Dunno yet, we can figure it out later. Maybe we can pick up a couple of chickies like back in the day and crash with them?” Jimmy ran his fingers through his mop of hair.

  Ryan raised his brows. “Wow. Classy.”

  “Relax, Momma’s Boy. I’ll get us a room somewhere close to the club.”

  “Fuck off. You’re one to talk.”

  Jimmy blew a breath on his knuckles and shined them on his chest. “I don’t deny it.”

  “Anywayyyy. Where’s this club we’re going to?”

  “It’s not on The Strip. Which makes it badass.” Jimmy flashed him his Cheshire-cat grin.

  “That smirk is what has me worried.” Ryan stopped before they got on the escalator. “Should I be worried?”

  “Nah, it’s all good, bro. You’ll love this place. All kinds of people hang there.” Jimmy clapped him on the shoulder and walked past him on to the escalator.

  Ryan paused, knowing full well he should be worried. Guaranteed, tonight would be wild and crazy and full of Jimmy-induced fun. Should he even call Maiya and let her know he was in town? He wasn’t sure if he wanted Jimmy near her though. The two would probably hit it off big time. Hey, Maiya, this is my brother. I know he’s your type, but could you please not want him? Jealousy poked his insides like a pin.

  “Come on,” Jimmy yelled from halfway down the escalator, snapping Ryan from his thoughts.

  Damn, he’d never been jealous of his brother. They’d never had the same taste in women, still didn’t. Ryan cringed. But Maiya was every bit Jimmy’s type. Shoving the thoughts aside, he stepped on to the escalator. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he checked it for missed calls. A razor of disappointment sliced through him. She wasn’t going to call him, and man, that just sucked.

  After a quick check-in at a hotel, they headed to the club. Ryan got out of the taxi and took in the mammoth white-brick building. “You sure I’m dressed okay for this place?”

  “Yeah. Stop worrying, will you?” Jimmy paid the cabby. “When did you become this much of a pansy ass?”

  Ryan crossed his arms. “Oh, now, that was harsh. Take that shit back or I’ll tell the first girl that talks to you that you used to wet the bed.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “The hell I won’t.” Ryan laughed.

  Jimmy threw his arm over Ryan’s shoulder. “I am totally getting your uptight ass drunk tonight.”

  Ryan looked at the towering neon sign. “Tangled, huh?”

  “The one and only. This place speaks my language.”

  “James Donnelly.” The bouncer smiled when they reached the entrance. “To what do we owe the pleasure this fine Vegas night?”

  Jimmy shook the bouncer’s hand. “Jay, my man, nice to see you. Just flew in from L.A. Brought my brother along to party for the night. Ryan, this is Jay. Good man. Makes sure this club stays clean.”

  Ryan looked up to meet Jay’s gaze when he shook the big man’s hand. He was colossal in size. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Go on in. I’ll let Gino know to get you a table upstairs in the corner.”

  “Right on. Thanks, Jay.” Jimmy walked past the bouncer, and Ryan followed thanking the bouncer too.

  They made it halfway through the entrance corridor before Ryan stopped and realized he was staring at his brother’s artwork. “You sold work to them?” He turned in a circle, taking in the walls. “That’s awesome.”

  “Yeah, no biggie though. It was a couple years ago when they opened. I told you about it at the time, but you were a little busy then.”

  “Shit. I guess so. Sorry, man.” Ryan shook his head. Jimmy would never get used to the fact his art had gotten so popular. His brother was humble and immensely talented, and Ryan was so damn proud of him it made his chest ache.

  His brother squeezed his shoulder. “It’s cool. I know you love me. Come on, you can make it up to me by buying me a drink.”

  “Absofuckinglutely.” Ryan laughed, remembering Maiya using the same word on him.

  Another bouncer, probably Gino, met them when they entered the main area. He bent and said something to Jimmy Ryan couldn’t hear and then they were traveling up a curving wrought iron staircase to a loft that circled the perimeter of the club. They moved to a stout table nestled between two plush chairs in the back corner and took a seat. A moment later, a waitress came over and took their drink order. Ryan handed her his credit card. “This place is off the hook.”

  “No shit, right? I love it. Check out the crowd on the dance floor.”

  Ryan walked to the railing. A blast of fog shot from the ceiling into the center of the floor and the crowd went nuts. The DJ queued up Drowning Pool’s “Bodies” and a mosh pit formed in the center of the floor. Ryan threw his head back and laughed.

  Joining him at the railing, Jimmy handed him his Jameson on the rocks. Ryan bent to his ear. “Makes you want to go down there and get in it, huh?”

  “Hell yeah!” Jimmy took a gulp of Guinness.

  Next on deck was Saliva’s “Click Click Boom”. The mosh pit continued, arms flying while guys—and girls—moved in and out, and around the center—the outer fence of people doing their job, keeping everyone in the pit. The song changed and Rage Against the Machine’s “Killing in the Name” blared through the speakers. Ryan was in awe listening to the boiling cauldron of metal and rap power echoing through the club.

  The crowd shifted, and the outer circle widened. His eye caught a tattooed girl on the edge, pushing guys twice her size back into the fray. In between shoves, she danced…and was magnificent. Kind of reminded him of Maiya. The girl tilted her head back and laughed at something the chick next to her said, and at the same time a bit of the fog cleared. Ryan tightened his grip on the railing.

  Holy shit, it was Maiya. Rammstein’s “Du Hast” blared from the speakers and Ryan watched her—he watched every move she made.

  Pulling the brim of her hat lower, Maiya danced. Her body moving in time with the hard industrial metal beat. Like a badass, she shoved with her hands and elbows, keeping the rowdy ones who broke the circle, within the pit. Her display was downright sexy and made his dick so hard he wanted to scream. The mosh pit broke up and Maiya walked off the floor toward the back of the bar.

  He watched until he couldn’t see her anymore. “Be right back, bro.” Ryan left his drink and made his way down the stairs, heading in the direction she’d gone. He spotted her talking to the same dark-haired chick she’d been next to on the floor. Not wanting her to see him yet, Ryan stayed behind one of the large pillars, ensuring he had a clear view of her
, and then sent her a text.

  Ryan: Hey, bummed I haven’t heard from you. You still up?

  Then he waited.

  Maiya pulled her phone from her back pocket and read the text, but then lowered her hand. She wasn’t going to respond? You have got to be kidding me. Disappointment settled hard in his chest. Thirty seconds later she stepped away from her friend and started typing on the screen. Relief washed through him and he exhaled a harsh breath.

  Maiya: Hey, sorry. One of my friends dragged me out. Why aren’t you sleeping?

  Ryan: My brother came into town and he dragged me out too.

  Maiya: That’s cool. Where’d you two go?

  Typing the next message, he walked up behind her and hit Send.

  Ryan: We’re at a club called Tangled in Vegas…

  Ryan waited a bare second, then wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and bent to her ear. “Where are you?”

  She jumped and turned her head with a glare harsh enough to scare a mercenary. “Holy fucking shit, Ryan. You scared me.” She blew out a breath and then spun inside his embrace to face him, wearing a far different expression now. “You coulda got punched, you know?” She laughed.

  “Believe me, I braced for it.” He tugged on the brim of her hat. “Not to sound creepy, but I was watching you on the dance floor. I think you might have one hell of a right hook in you.”

  “You were watching me?” She raised her brows. “And you didn’t go running in the other direction?”

  “Why on earth would I run from you?” He snugged her tighter against him. “I think I’d much rather be up close and personal.” He kissed her then, a soft stroke of his lips over hers.

  Yes, Jimmy was a genius; Vegas had been exactly what he needed.

  Holy mother of God and all the saints, Ryan was there. And not only was he there, he was standing in front of her. She was in his arms. And he’d just kissed her.

  In spite of what he’d said, Maiya couldn’t imagine what he must’ve been thinking when he saw her on the dance floor. She’d been going all out, venting her tension, but Maiya never expected to run into anyone from work…especially Ryan. She stared into his crystal eyes. “How long were you watching me?”