Grabbing a handful of her hair, he yanked her head back to glare down at her. “What’s your name, Peanut?”
So that was what he wanted?
Limp and almost blind with her need, her lips curled in a lazy smile, drugged by the ecstasy of their union. “Whisper McDade.”
One side of his mouth lifted too, not much, but just enough to let her know she’d given him the right answer. “That’s right, Peanut. You’re a McDade. My McDade,” he drawled and pulled back his hips until just the head of his cock was inside her. “Now you can come.”
In one slamming advance, he filled her up beyond her limit, pushing her into an ocean of orgasm that seemed to go on for days and yet be over too quickly. Still panting and purring over her own release, she almost missed his and couldn’t think straight enough to hold her own weight when he put her on her feet.
Whisper grabbed for him to steady herself. Zaid put an arm around her to hold her upright while using the other to pick up the gun.
“Want me to kill him?” he murmured.
Although it was what she wanted, Whisper couldn’t drift on the warmth of the aftershocks still wracking her body, not all night anyway. She told herself to get with it and serve her husband. Tucking him away with care, she fastened his pants for him. The guy was armed and holding her up, so he couldn’t do it himself.
“And risk losing you to prison for a loser like that?” she asked, coiling an arm around his torso to hold herself against him. “No, let him suffer. He won’t touch me again, and if he utters a word of what happened here tonight, or how he got injured…” Letting Zaid go, she went to the man rocking on his back on the ground, and put a foot to his hip to roll him over. Snagging his wallet from his pocket, she retrieved his ID. She tucked the card in Zaid’s pocket and wiped down the wallet before tossing it in the dumpster. “We’ll know where to find him… and I say we go for the balls first… but a bullet would be too kind.”
Zaid hooked an arm around her neck and turned them to the mouth of the alley to guide her away. The guy would find help, he’d have to or he’d eventually bleed out. He wouldn’t say anything about who’d put the bullets in him, not unless he wanted two notorious families to finish the job they’d started.
Her husband rode a motorcycle. Whisper didn’t know how she’d missed that. It put into perspective why he never travelled anywhere with her in a limo. He preferred going fast, weaving in and out of traffic, basically ignoring the rules that applied to everyone else. Whisper couldn’t say she was averse to that attitude.
Maybe she read him wrong, but when they got back to the house, it seemed as though he tried to push her toward his bed. If he did, Whisper didn’t take the hint and chose to go through to the nanny’s room instead.
Their alley sex at least had the effect of helping her to sleep well. The next day, even her time at the spa was tolerable, though that may have been because it went by without Nicole, who never appeared.
Afterwards, Whisper’s plan was to go home and change, then find some quiet corner restaurant to eat in. Something close to home that gave her the option of walking only just as far as she wanted to… and getting as drunk as possible.
Whisper didn’t expect to go into the bedroom to find Zaid standing in the middle of it, typing something into a cellphone.
They looked at each other. Neither spoke, so she left him there to go into the closet.
“Peanut,” he said, obviously deciding that there was something to be said after all. “Come out here.”
“If this is about last night, I’d rather not,” she called out, stripping off her clothes. “Don’t worry, I still respect you, but I probably won’t be calling.” Whisper was still silently snickering at her own joke when she turned to discover him leaning on the enclosed vanity at the end of the closet closest to the door. “I’m gonna get you a bell. Shit, Zay.”
“Peanut—”
“Look, it’s not that the sex wasn’t great. It was great. You know that it was and, hey, you’re hung like a carnival donkey, so no complaints there.”
Sauntering toward him, she wasn’t surprised when he swung round to pin her back to the vanity. “Peanut—”
“You’re the only person in the world who can make that word sound like a threat, you know?” she said, laying her hand on his ribs to give him a pat. “Let’s just leave it alone, Zay, huh?”
For some reason she couldn’t fathom, looking him in the eye was a struggle. She could only peek up at him for the shortest of seconds.
“I was right,” he said after her chin fell again. “You weren’t ready.”
“Yep, that’s right. Not ready.”
Although she expected him to back off, he didn’t.
Zaid drew in a long breath through his nose before speaking. “Three years ago, we were having a problem with a couple of our dealers skimming. We didn’t know which team it was and didn’t want to punish the wrong guy.”
Punish translated to kill. Whisper knew what the Dohertys did to underlings who stole from the family. It wasn’t rap their knuckles. “I don’t—”
“Bos and me were holed up in a vacant apartment watching a couple of corners.” The tale would be fascinating if she had the slightest inclination why he was telling it. Though given that this was the most he’d ever actually said to her at one time, Whisper stayed quiet. “We were looking out… Not much was happening, the street was quiet, our dealers had gone to transact in an alley with a couple of working girls… Last thing we expected was to see Keegan Doherty on our turf.”
That changed the hue of her curiosity. Her interest sprang up, tightening her muscles. “Keegan?”
“Yeah,” he said, tilting his head as his fingertips grazed a tendril of her hair by her temple. “He was with this babe, not one of ours, least not that we could tell at first. It was dark and they were on the opposite sidewalk.”
For a minute, Zaid just watched his fingers moving in her hair.
Whisper wasn’t patient enough for suspense. “What happened?”
“Don’t know if he recognized the Doherty or not, but one of ours moved in on Keegan and this babe. He had a knife, but that didn’t faze the babe. Minute she saw him coming, she went in, matching him step for step, moving ahead of Keegan. In one move, she took the knife from our guy, grabbed him by the balls and sent him down to his knees. Keegan didn’t bother to get within ten feet of them, he knew she had it. With the knife to his throat in one hand and his balls in the other, she bowed to say something right into the guy’s ear… Then she tossed him to the sidewalk and stepped over him, reaching back for her brother’s hand.”
Clarity parted her lips. “Her brother.” He nodded. “Me? It was me.” He nodded again. “I don’t even remember that.”
“Shame,” he said. “I always wondered what you said to him.”
Her attention drifted to the side and she smiled. “I always say the same thing to pricks like that who come at me. I tell them when they see the Dohertys coming they should kneel and pray we let them take another breath.” Zaid didn’t say anything else and let her just process the story. It didn’t take long for her eyes to narrow. “But, wait, that was… you said that was three years ago.”
“Yeah.”
Looking up at him, she didn’t know what to feel. “How do you remember that? What made you remember it now?”
“I’ve never forgotten it,” he said. “I know I’m ready. I came to terms with how I felt about my Doherty a long time ago, Peanut.”
“Your… your Doherty?”
“Fucking you was never going to be enough. I want your vulnerability… Before I get that, I have to teach you respect.”
He’d said that last night. The reminder caused her attention to spring up to him.
His expression didn’t change, so Whisper doubted he was having the same memory. “I do respect you,” she said, though she couldn’t blame him for believing otherwise after the way she’d acted the previous night.
Zaid shook his head. “Not me,” he sa
id. “You have to learn how to respect you before you can give me what I want from you.”
Stunned, she didn’t even know what to say or how he wanted her to react. Whisper was still trying to process when he eased back to turn her around. Maybe now he’d shocked her into static silence, he thought she’d just bend over for him.
He slid one hand along the vanity in front of her while the other brushed the scrapes on her lower back. They were the irritated marks left by the nightclub wall during their session last night.
“Doesn’t hurt,” Whisper said, not sure she liked the tenderness in his touch.
Given what he’d revealed, his compassion could just be something conjured in her head. True or not, she felt the need to pull away. She understood then why he’d put the hand on the vanity. When Whisper tried to move, he flattened his hand on her abdomen, holding her still, preventing her retreat.
“None of them are deep.”
“That’s a shame,” she said, arching her ass back. Getting out of his physical hold wasn’t possible, but her arsenal wasn’t empty. Reaching around to snag his wrist at her lower back, she guided it around her hip, directing his hand low. “I like it deep.”
His fingertips brushed the top of her pussy. Whisper held her breath in anticipation of the moment he’d take over and give her what she craved. Letting herself breathe when he curled his form over the top of hers, she expected his touch. Instead, the only sensation she got was the warmth of his breath on the top of her ear.
“No,” he exhaled and drew his hand out of her grip to give her ass a quick squeeze before turning and leaving the closet.
Once again, she’d been left unsatisfied.
But at least that time, he’d given her mind something. He’d known who she was three years ago. A single incident that she couldn’t even remember had lodged in his memory and somehow awakened it.
Whisper had never given a lot of thought to why Zaid married her. His story changed that. She should have considered there was no reason for him to be her husband over the likes of Doran or anyone else loyal to their family. The McDades wanted a promise from the Dohertys, a sign that they were serious about the alliance, and she had been the price.
But who had set it?
Sunday was supposed to be dinner, but it was a birthday of one of the McDade cousin’s. Whisper wasn’t sure which one. The ongoing party meant Kitty’s was jumping by the time they got there. Instead of their usual sit down meal, a buffet was laid out on a table along one of the walls. The rest of the place was filled with circular tables occupied by more people than she’d ever seen there.
The night was drawing on. Whisper was getting bored, which could have something to do with the fact that she’d been sitting alone at the bar for over two hours. It wasn’t any surprise that no one wanted to be seen talking to the only Doherty in the room. Most of the partygoers dripped with disdain whenever they looked her way. When she stared at them, they drew their eyes away like they’d just witnessed her kicking a puppy.
Nicole was the center of attention at one of the tables. Everyone seemed eager to please the primary McDade wife. Whisper wasn’t even offended by their love for her, she wasn’t willing to pay the price it took to get that kind of adoration. Nicole could keep it.
She didn’t have a clue where her husband or in-laws were and had given up caring. Though she noticed Bosco appearing from the mysterious door at the end of the bar, Whisper did nothing to attract his attention. He scanned the room and seemed to find what he was looking for when his gaze landed on her.
It was nice that he smiled on his walk toward her. Whisper didn’t hazard a return of the expression. She didn’t react at all. Her elbow slid further across the bar, taking her closer to it. Her hand was on her temple propping her up while the other stayed around her wine glass.
“How you doing, Mrs. D?” Bosco asked when he came up to lean on the bar beside her.
“Bored,” she said, rising just enough to tip some wine into her mouth. “Want to have sex?”
His smile broadened to reach his eyes. “Man, you know how to flatter a guy,” he said. “But no thanks… You need anything?”
“He sent you to check I’m behaving, didn’t he?” she asked. “Well, you can report that I have no interest in tossing my carcass into this particular pit of coyotes.”
“Ouch, and here I thought you were getting over your McDade prejudice.”
Looking past him, she returned the sneers that were being tossed her way. “Look at them,” she grumbled. “I’m like an amoeba.”
“Think it would be any different for Zaid at a Doherty event?”
Back in the day, no. Though he’d probably at least get some action. One of her brothers or cousins would get drunk enough to say something and a brawl would breakout. Pouring the last of her wine into her mouth, she held a finger up to the bartender, and pointed at her glass.
After the acknowledgement of her order, Whisper slapped a hand on the bar and pushed herself up straight. “I am going to drink one more glass of wine and then I am climbing my ass up onto this bar to do my strip tease routine.”
“You think that would go down well with the in-laws?”
She pushed the empty glass away, still endeavoring to enjoy the buzz of alcohol humming through her. “My marriage is pretty definitely doomed anyway, Bos. So, you know, I figure I should suit myself.”
The bartender brought over her wine. Whisper wasn’t slow in grabbing it up to gulp it down.
With her mouth still on the glass, her eyes slid to the side when Bosco lowered onto the stool next to hers. “Doomed? Why is it doomed?”
Putting her glass down, Whisper let her other arm flop beside it. “Yeah, the Doherty and the McDade live happily ever after, that sounds likely,” she said, scoffing out a disbelieving laugh. “He wants something I don’t have.” Standing her index finger up on the bar, she raised it to drop it down, hammering home her point. “I don’t have it.” Whisper kept prodding her finger into the bar. “I don’t have it.” Twisting around, she slapped both hands to Bosco’s thighs. “I don’t have it, Bosco. I can’t give him it if I don’t have it, right?”
There was something almost pitying in his eyes. Whisper wouldn’t let herself acknowledge it, even when he brushed her hair away from her face.
“What does he want, Mrs. D?”
Her vulnerability or for her to have self-respect; she was fast learning the latter didn’t run through her veins. Some people were just incapable. That’s what Whisper told herself anyway.
Rather than answer Bosco, she sat straighter to peek left and right over each of his shoulders. “Where the hell is he anyway? If he wants to check I’m being good, why isn’t he here monitoring me himself?”
“He’s in the back.”
“The back,” she said, taking another mouthful of wine then discarding the glass to jump off her stool. “What’s in the back? Doherty men do that too, pisses me off.”
Starting past him, she headed toward the mysterious door he’d come through.
“Women aren’t allowed back there,” Bosco said, almost frantic in his speech as he hurried along at her side. “Whis—”
“Women aren’t allowed, huh?” she asked, just as two young, barely dressed women traipsed through the door she was aiming for.
“They’re going to the restroom,” he said.
Without slowing, they followed the sinful sirens who carried on past the ladies’ room and the men’s too. Casting a look over her shoulder, Whisper didn’t hide her glare. The two women kept on going, ignoring the open door at the very end of the corridor. From what she could make out, there was a courtyard back there. Interesting. The building was far deeper than she’d realized.
The women swung a right and flounced into a room that would be parallel to the main space at the front of Kitty’s. The new room wasn’t as crowded as the one she’d left, though it was darker. At a guess, she’d say back there was by invitation only.
Another bar backed
onto the one she’d been propping up all night. The space stretched beyond the length of that bar. The room then opened out and took a perpendicular turn, making it an L-shape.
People watched her progress, but Whisper wasn’t interested in the men in the velvet booths or their card games. Passing the bar, she looked down the length of the room, which stretched all the way to the front of the building, though she didn’t see any windows.
What she did see was her husband on a long couch, surrounded by other men, including his brothers, in a corner set up like a slick lounge. But it wasn’t the men she zeroed in on. No, that right was reserved for the blonde woman in the white dress straddling Zaid’s lap.
Fixating on her, Whisper let her rage grow from a simmer.
“Whisper,” Bosco said, probably noticing exactly what she’d locked onto.
Setting the couple in her sights, she strode on, ignoring every person she passed and the pulse of the music that masked their likely judgement. The element of surprise was on her side. Approaching, she seethed at the sight of the woman’s long blonde curls cascading almost all the way to her ass. Blondie’s svelte form moved back and forth, grinding into what was supposed to belong to Whisper.
Picking up her pace, Whisper crouched as she advanced, sliding a hand up the outside of her thigh and beneath her skirt. In a practiced move, she slipped her blade from its sheath and tightened her fist around the grip.
Before anyone saw her coming, she plunged her fingers into the blonde’s lush locks to take a hearty handful. Blondie screeched and threw both hands back to clutch for the digits causing her instant pain. With her sharp nails digging deep into the blonde’s scalp, Whisper swung her knife around to the woman’s throat.
Jerking the beauty’s head back to an uncomfortable angle, Whisper lowered her lips to the woman’s ear. “That’s my ride,” she murmured without looking at the man beneath the panting babe. “Move.”
Dragging the woman backward, Whisper gave her no option except to leave Zaid’s lap. Hauling her across the floor, Whisper’s knife hand dropped to her side as she turned to parade back the way she’d come. The blonde was in a stooped crouch, scrambling to keep up, losing her footing while still clutching at Whisper’s hand in her hair.
Only Yours (A McDade Brothers Novel Book 2) Page 12
