Only Yours. E-Book

Scarlett Finn

• Herausgeber: Moriona Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Marry a McDade. That's the order Cyrus Doherty gives his only daughter.

The bloodbath that claimed the lives of Whisper's brothers put the Doherty share of the city's business in jeopardy. Her father's way to remedy that is to form an alliance with their enemy.

To prove to the McDades that the Dohertys intentions are true, Whisper's father sets her up to marry the arrogant, bullish, inconsiderate man they call Razer.

The problem is, Whisper Doherty isn't exactly known for playing nice. Finding her place in the McDade ranks won't be easy. Especially when she can't seem to stop sassing everyone. Other McDade women might be happy following the rules, but Whisper is no pushover.

Her husband's issues collide with her own and combust into something neither of them expect. It's a power struggle. A war within a war and she will not surrender.

But the bride has to deal with more than just her domineering husband. Her new father-in-law, the McDade patriarch, believes everyone is beneath him. Burl McDade expects everyone to bow to his will and that's just not Whisper's style.

Making an enemy of him pits her against the McDade-Doherty alliance. Burl demands her submission; Whisper will not yield. She's on her own… or is she?

Warning: Contains explicit language and imagery. Suitable only for ages 18 and over.

**HEA STANDALONE**

Leseprobe

Copyright © 2020 Scarlett Finn

Published by Moriona Press 2020

All rights reserved.

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

First published in 2020

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by an electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review. It may not be used to train AI software or for the creation of AI works.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

www.scarlettfinn.com

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CONTENTS

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1

“Please don’t make me do it, Daddy,” Whisper Doherty begged her father who sat on the other side of his huge desk.

The piece was an almost-replica of the President’s Resolute Desk. The difference being that the crest of their family was embossed on the front.

“I didn’t bring you here for a debate,” Cyrus Doherty stated, picking up a pen to begin writing on the page he’d been reading when she came in. “You will marry him on Friday.”

“But Daddy… he’s a psychopath!”

Her father didn’t even crook a brow. “By all accounts, yes,” Cyrus said, turning the paper over to write on the back. “Which is exactly why we need him. I won’t allow the Byrne family to overtake us.”

Three months ago, the ranks of both the Dohertys and the Byrnes had been decimated by a shoot-out at what was supposed to be a peaceful meet. The intention was for the families to discuss territory and the increase of skirmishes between the two sides.

The conversation never took place.

Whisper had been at her father’s side when he got the call from her brother during the bloodbath. Listening to the horror almost moved her to tears. Being the only daughter of one of the country’s most notorious crime bosses, she wasn’t squeamish when it came to violence or depravity. She’d grown up seeing it all. Still, hearing cousins fall, her uncles, her brothers… it was stomach churning.

The Dohertys lost just as many as the Byrnes, which was the only saving grace. Near to a whole generation of both families, and those loyal to them, were gone.

The initial ordeal only took an hour. Neither side would let the other survivors leave. Their stubbornness, their feud, gave the cops enough time to surround the place and arrest whoever was left.

Since that fated day, both sides had struggled to maintain their operations. Every wise-guy on the street was in play and enjoyed the two families vying for their loyalty. The Dohertys and Byrnes needed numbers, needed allies, or they’d be picked off and lose what market share they had left.

Apparently, that was where Zaiden McDade came into the equation.

The McDades were in the same business as the Dohertys and the Byrnes. They rejected their invitation to the meet, so were the only family unscathed. Now instead of three families jockeying for the top spot, the McDades had leaped to prime position, in terms of numbers on the streets and influence.

Both the Byrnes and the Dohertys were guilty of trying to poach the McDades’ top guys. Their lack of success wasn’t much of a surprise given the McDades reputation. The only reason Whisper could figure that anyone would be so loyal to such a vicious family was if they were afraid for their lives. And that same vicious family was the one her father was proposing she hand herself over to.

Slamming a fist to the desk, Whisper lunged over it. “He’ll beat me, Daddy,” she hissed. “He’ll beat me and rape me. Him and all his depraved, sick brothers.”

Surging to his feet, Cyrus grabbed her wrist, yanking her so far over the desk that she ended up with a knee on the surface. “You will not fuck this up, Whisper! You let the man run his house,” he snarled. “You are a Doherty. You will do what this family tells you to do. You will marry him. You will be his obedient wife!”

“I won’t,” she spat. “I won’t marry him! How about that?”

Bowing to get in her face, Cyrus didn’t display anything of the man who’d bounced her on his lap when she was a child. That man called her his precious princess. A lot of years had passed since then; a lot had changed.

“Then you deserve everything he does to you. They have manpower. I need their manpower. Joining forces with them will put us back on top… You are the price for victory… One I’m happy to pay.”

Cyrus shoved her away with so much force that she stumbled backwards. If the guest chair hadn’t been there to catch her, she’d have landed on her ass.

“I am not a bargaining chip.”

Sinking into his seat, he leaned back, swinging the chair side to side. His laugh warmed the air. “Sweetheart, you’re female… You’re only worth to me is what I can sell you for, who I can sell you to. You’ve been a drain on my resources since the day you were born. It’s time to pay the piper.” The laugh became a kind of disdainful smile. “Do your duty or I’ll slit your throat myself…” Picking up his pen again, he began writing. “Be at the City Clerk’s Office Friday at three… wear white.”

Shooting to her feet, Whisper wanted to argue with him, wanted to point blank refuse… But considering what her life would be after disobeying her father’s orders kept her silent.

Cyrus would cut her off; she’d have no access to funds. Even if scraping some cash together before fleeing was a possibility, her family couldn’t weather the embarrassment of her bolting against her father’s wishes.

Whisper and her father were the only members of their immediate family left. Her brothers were gone. Well, she did have an uncle and a pair of cousins, but they’d never been closely involved in the family business. They’d never been trusted enough… necessity was in the process of changing that.

If she ran, the Dohertys would be decimated. After that, her father would make it his life’s mission to track her down. As soon as he found her, he’d extract his payback in the most agonizing way possible.

Whisper was a Doherty and had always been loyal to her family. Always. It was in her blood to do what was best for the family.

The McDades might be despicable, but their hatred for the Dohertys was meager in comparison to their loathing for the Byrnes. Even though the idea of being betrothed to a McDade turned her stomach, she’d sacrifice anything if it meant not letting the Byrnes triumph.

It was conditioning. She knew it but couldn’t fight it. Whisper, just like the Byrne and McDade children, was taught that their family was superior over the others. The exaggerated stories exchanged among their peers fed the animosity between the trio of families.

The McDades could sneak in and take over while they had the numbers, but their infrastructure wasn’t as robust. This union, if she didn’t fuck it up, would see a Doherty-McDade alliance that could create a new power monolith at the top of the food chain. They’d be bigger and stronger than ever before. Wasn’t that worth her opening her legs for the scum of the earth?

Storming out of her father’s echoing townhouse, Whisper missed the sound of her brothers and cousins charging the space. Once the place had been full, alive with the buzz of activity. Now it was quiet. Still.

They’d cut the number of household staff. Without boots on the ground to pedal product and manage venues, the Doherty finances had taken a hit. Beyond that, with most of their loyal associates either dead or in jail, they just didn’t need to cater to as many people.

Marrying Zaiden McDade would mean living in the McDade house. Her father would be alone. But only for a while. The Dohertys weren’t done yet. It was up to her to ensure there were no glitches on their return to power… That meant getting hitched to a man she’d been trained to believe was her enemy since before the word even had meaning.

2

There was no out. All week the breath of Cyrus’ henchman on the back of Whisper’s neck reminded her of her invisible bonds. Said henchman had stepped in on Thursday when it came time to take her to the City Clerk’s Office to sign for the marriage license.

She didn’t see Zaiden. The ink of his signature was still wet when the sheet was presented to her. Whisper guessed he was close by, but didn’t really care.

Once their names were dry, nothing could stop the inevitable.

So, just as her father commanded, Whisper ended up standing alone at the chapel inside of the City Clerk’s Office Friday at three. Other couples sat around, waiting to be married. Couples who had been there first. In what she could only imagine was deference to the bride and groom’s last names, no one minded stepping aside to give them priority.

Her father came up next to her. “Mom will be turning in her grave,” Whisper murmured as he took her arm.

His hand paused on the way to the door handle. “Your mother was a good woman… one who knew her place was under her husband’s command…” Turning a glare on her, Cyrus Doherty didn’t leave any equivocation. “Make him happy, Whisper, and he will do what I tell him when I tell him. The fate of our family rests on you being a dutiful wife. You will do whatever it takes.”

Whatever it takes. Those words rattled around in her mind while her father opened the door and took her inside. Whisper wasn’t sure what she expected to find in there. Yet, it was a surprise to discover there were only three people present. They stood at the head of the room and none of them were the McDade parents.

Guessing that the man facing them was the officiant, Whisper took advantage of the opportunity to examine the other two males who stood with their backs to the room. One was shorter than the other. The top of his head only reached the taller one’s shoulder.

Whisper figured the taller one was Zaiden. Every description of him mentioned his height and his jet black hair. Those locks were a mess, but matched the untucked shirt, scruffy jeans, and the heavy boots on his feet.

In her boat-neck ivory dress, Whisper’s effort outmatched his, but she wasn’t offended. If anything, it was a relief to learn he wasn’t taking the wedding seriously. Her dress was a nod to her father’s request; she’d avoided actually going with white. If Cyrus hadn’t made the request, she’d likely have shown up in her usual Friday afternoon apparel: yoga pants and a sports bra.

The shorter guy peeked over his shoulder. As soon as he spied her scrutinizing him and his buddy, his attention sprang back to the front. Being close to a McDade, she wouldn’t have expected him to be skittish. But he was shorter and less toned than she’d have expected too.

It was difficult to see Zaid’s physique beyond the breadth of his capable shoulders and the vee of his torso to the narrowing of his hips. The shorter guy had love handles above the cinch of his tight belt and she’d seen a little extra weight in his face when he turned. It wasn’t like the guy was overweight. Just an obvious contrast to the man at his side.

Her examination came to an abrupt end when she and Cyrus reached the front and the officiant started to talk. It wasn’t a long drawn out ceremony; there were no sermons or hymns. It was business only.

Zaiden didn’t turn to look at her, so she didn’t look at him either. Not that it was easy to be sure what he was doing because, like the guy on his other side, she was no giant. All her peripheral vision picked up was the lack of movement in his body. It didn’t flinch, which suggested he didn’t register her.

Whisper thought they might get through the whole ceremony without acknowledging each other at all. But her luck wasn’t that good. When the officiant asked Zaiden to recite his vows, the deep, growling voice that came from him filled her with chills that forced her body to react. Her baser instincts responded to him anyway.

Whisper couldn’t remember the last time anything had made her afraid. Not that she was afraid. In fact, it was sort of impressive how the sinister tone of his drawling voice made every word sound like a threat rather than a promise.

He carried on just like that, saying whatever he had to without changing his tone or looking at her. Whisper didn’t mind returning the latter favor on the occasions she was required to speak. She said only what was required and nothing else. Whatever impression that made on her groom, she couldn’t care less.

The officiant produced rings. He placed them on the sheet in his hand like maybe he intended to say or do something with them. Zaiden didn’t give him the chance. He grabbed the larger ring and shoved it onto his own finger, so she did the same with the smaller one. Apparently, they didn’t have to say anything about that, which suited her fine. It was done. That was it.

Sweating and pale, the officiant was nervous. Somehow, it had taken Whisper the whole ceremony to notice. “You can kiss the bride,” he said, his voice vibrating.

His hands were trembling, shaking the paper in his pale fingers. Whisper smiled. The man was terrified. It shouldn’t really be a surprise. The guy at her side, her groom, was more than twice the size of the officiant, and her father was somewhere behind them.

He’d probably never presided over a marriage with such potential to get him killed. Just one wrong word could be enough for either her father or her groom to order the officiant’s family murdered… or at the very least maimed.

“We done?” Zaiden asked without kissing her, sounding unimpressed.

Whisper wasn’t impressed either and had no desire to kiss him. The smart officiant wasn’t going to push the issue. He backed away to show the paperwork on the table behind him.

“You… you both have to sign the—”

“Right,” Zaiden said.

Taking her by surprise, Zaiden grabbed her upper arm and hauled her forward, throwing her in the direction of the table. The force gave Whisper no choice but to run the way he’d tossed her. With that momentum, her body kept going until she was bent over the hard surface, clutching the edge.

Whisper pushed up onto her palms. “Asshole,” she muttered, snatching the pen from the officiant to scribble down her details. “What’s that?”

Jabbing the pen toward the blank line at the end of her section, she looked at the officiant for an explanation.

Twisting around, he dipped his attention to where she was indicating. “Oh, that’s a new feature. It allows couples to record their own words; like a sentimental phrase that means something to them or a tender wish for the future.”

“Oh,” she said, tilting her head to begin writing, reading her words as she recorded them for posterity. “Fuck you, asshole… good luck sucking your own cock.”

Pleased with her addition, Whisper smiled at the officiant and raised her chin, pushing her shoulders back as she did. Ignoring the shock on his face was easy. Shocking people was a regular occurrence for her. Her sentiment probably didn’t match what other people wrote on their marriage certificates, but she was proud of it.

“Ma’am, I—”

“You married, sir?” she asked, turning on her sultry side and drawing the pen to her lips. Swaying her hips, Whisper twisted her body toward his, ready to have some fun. Raising her arm up, she locked her elbow, and let her arm sink down to rest straight on his shoulder. “You must get tired of working so long… and hard…”

Flirting was one of her favorite things to do, she considered it a hobby. Her desire to tease and play was probably rooted in her years of teenage rebellion. Back then, her father and brothers were dead against her showing any kind of sexuality. Never stopped her from doing it whenever she could, usually whenever they weren’t around. As she’d got older, her interest in their presence or opinions had waned.

“Ma’am—”

“Shh,” Whisper said, tossing the pen onto the table. Moving in, she got up close to rest the length of her finger on the shaking man’s mouth. “All these men who stand before you every day…” With her finger still on his lips, she flattened her other hand on his torso and let it turn to slide south. “All these men get their happy ending…” Pouting, she forced herself even closer while pressing her palm against his groin, rubbing his dick through his slacks. “Where’s your happy ending… Have you got an office…” Trailing her finger from his mouth to his belt, she slid the leather from its buckle. “Or would you like it right here.”

“Whisper!” her father barked.

Rolling her eyes away from the stunned officiant, just a moment before her father seized her arm and yanked her away, Whisper groaned. “Daddy, I’m just having some fun.”

He hauled her closer to hiss in her face. “That kind of fun could get a man killed. You’re a married woman now.”

Somehow she doubted he cared about the officiant’s safety or her virtue. “Yeah? What does that matter?” she asked, admiring her manicure. “Are we going someplace to get drunk?” Peeking over her shoulder, she ignored the groom and his buddy who were just out of her field of vision. Her focus stayed on eyeing the officiant, running her tongue along her top lip as she did. “Or have I gotta find my own fun?”

“You are going to your wedding reception,” her father said, tightening his grip and giving her a shake. “And you will behave yourself.”

“Or what?” she snapped, jerking her arm down and out of his grip. The kind of bruises that would leave were normal for her, she’d worn them most of her life. “No one said anything about a reception. I have plans later.”

Grabbing her again, Cyrus hauled her up the aisle. At the other end of the room, by the door they’d first come through, he swung her around to slam her back against the wall. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Do you care?”

“Whisper,” he growled, slapping his hand flat to the wall next to her head. Instinct made her flinch. Damn instinct. “You think I’m going to hit you?” With a shake, he seized her chin to force her attention back to him. “That’s not my responsibility anymore, sweetheart. If you need to be taken in hand, it will be your husband’s job… Tell me who you’d rather have disciplining you? Your father or the man you branded a psychopath?”

Gritting her teeth, she sucked in a breath. “If he touches me, I’ll slice him open.”

Easing back, Cyrus’ eyes dropped for a moment. In the next breath, he lunged forward again, getting so close that his nose bumped hers. “You’re carrying a weapon? On your wedding day? Are you fucking insane?”

“I’m a Doherty, Daddy,” she sneered. “I haven’t walked the streets unarmed in all my twenty-nine years… Momma used to hide her blade in my stroller… remember, Daddy?”

Shoving away from her, he put a foot of space between them. “For all the good it did her, she was still slayed by that bastard Byrne.” He opened his hand to her. “Give it to me.”

“No,” she said.

There was a chance her new husband might have designs on what he’d like to do with their wedding night. Complying was her duty. Giving him what was left of her shredded virtue was her obligation. But there were some acts she’d never consent to. If he tried to take from her against her will, she’d take something precious of his in return… Something that would make it impossible for him to ever violate another woman.

“Whisper,” he growled, but she remained defiant.

Her father’s backhand was swift. Her head snapped to the side, but she felt nothing, not really. It wasn’t like she’d never been on the receiving end of his wrath before. Tossing her hair away from her face, she brought her focus back to where it had been before.

“You should’ve just killed me,” she murmured, sneering at him.

Sliding her shoulders down the wall to bring her leg up, she hooked the heel of her stiletto on the back of the wooden pew-like bench behind her father. Whisper curled her fingers around the end of her skirt to drag it up, revealing the sheathed knife strapped to her thigh and wrapped in a length of white silk.

“Festive,” came a voice from the aisle beside them.

She rolled her head on the wall to see the shorter man from the altar. That was her first chance to get a good look at him. In his thirties, the man wasn’t exactly smiling, but he wasn’t scowling either. His attention was fixated on the weapon on her leg.

“Like what you see, baby?” she asked, shifting her foot from the back of the bench to his torso.

Her shoulders were still on the wall giving her an anchor point. Whisper raised her leg a little higher to bring the silk over her crotch into his view, which was exactly her plan. Her grip on the hem of her skirt remained firm to ensure it stayed high.

With heavy eyes, she maintained her focus on the man under her heel. Pushing it a little deeper into his gut made his mouth open, Whisper wanted more of a reaction than that. A shadow appeared behind him, putting an end to her toying. For a man of his size, Zaiden McDade moved quietly. Despite being aware of him, she did her best not to look over her prey’s head.

“Stop this bullshit,” Cyrus hissed. “Give me the knife, Whisper.”

“Let her keep it,” Zaiden said, startling both her father and the man under her shoe. “Anyone who can be taken down by a little girl deserves to go down.”

Grabbing his lieutenant’s shoulder, Zaiden pulled him away from her, sending her foot back to the floor with a thud. The two men vanished through the door without waiting.

Whisper boosted herself off the wall to straighten up. Swiping her hair from her face, looking at the door, she touched the cheek her father had struck. “He’s got some damn nerve.”

“He’s not the only one,” Cyrus said, snatching her shoulder to pull her through the door. “You’re going to get yourself in check, Whisper. No more of your bullshit.”

Those waiting in the hallway outside didn’t dare look at her being dragged past them. Even the people who probably weren’t from the area seemed to get the sense that it wasn’t a moment to gawk or, God forbid, step in.

Not that she’d be averse to getting a little blood on her dress. Her father hauled her out to the street and threw her into a waiting limo that got moving the minute the door closed.

“Dragging the name of this family through the mud has always been a specialty of yours,” he said. Her skirt had ridden up when she’d fallen face first into the back of the car, so she raised her hips to tug it down. “Your mother would be ashamed of you.”

“No more ashamed than she’d be of you,” she said, lifting and dropping into the seat to get comfortable. “You think this is what she’d want for any of us?”

“I think she would be disgusted that you dishonor your brothers’ memory.”

Losing Adan and Keegan had changed everything about their lives. Most of the time, her brothers found something to be on her case about. Despite that, there was no way she could deny they’d loved her, in their own way.

Both were hard men… or they had been. Their father had raised them both to believe that showing affection was a sign of weakness. The one thing none of the men were allowed to do was expose any vulnerability. Women were seen as weak just by their very nature. Whisper had fought against that ideology all her life, which was probably why she acted out. It wasn’t easy to be noticed when you were considered the weakest member of the family, even if that was the Doherty family.

The Doherty legacy was a lot to live up to and it wasn’t a role she’d coveted. Her brothers were expected to take over the family business. Whisper was a drain on resources, as her father often reminded her. Although she’d been in the bosom of the family, it had never fallen on her to prove her loyalty, not to the level of handing herself to the enemy.

Whisper opened the fridge to retrieve a bottle of champagne. “I married him, didn’t I?” she said, filling a flute. “I did what I was told.”

Her father seized her arm and tugged her around with such force that champagne sloshed onto the floor.

“You were told to make him happy,” Cyrus hissed. “Finding out his wife is a slut will not make him happy.”

“You don’t have a damn clue what will make him happy,” she said. Despite still being in her father’s grip, Whisper turned her head to tip some alcohol into her mouth. “He didn’t have a problem with what I was doing and, like you said, I’m his to discipline now, right?” His grip tightened. The pinch was obvious, its meaning was not. Wearing her own glare, she drew her lips away from the glass to pin it on him. “You put another bruise on me, Daddy, I’ll go to the cops and tell them he put it there… What will that do for relations with the new in-laws?”

“I made this deal to show this family we are serious about an alliance… If I have to sedate you to hand you over, I will do it. You will behave. You will show respect and deference. You will not make a fool of me or your husband.”

The vicious look in his eye didn’t scare her, it disgusted her, but that didn’t prevent her from returning it. “You hate that you have to rely on me.”

“Yes,” he spat. “You’re a woman. You’re weak and unreliable. I told your mother we should’ve drowned you at birth.”

Hissing, she lunged at him. “And I told her she should’ve left you when we found you balls deep inside that hooker.”

The next slap sent her onto the limo floor, scattering her champagne. Still, Whisper wouldn’t relent. On a sharp inhale, she whipped around to glare at him. The power in that last hit was impressive given their restricted space. Practice really did make perfect; her father had always been quick and strong with his hands.

“It should’ve been you that day,” he growled.

She breathed out a laugh. “There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t wish it had been… Daddy.”

Spitting out his title, she checked for blood on her lip and was pleased to find none. A speckling daze crossed her vision; Whisper damned him and his short fuse. Resenting him was only half the battle. Frustrating as it could be to exist only as an object for her father to despise, at least she’d always known where she stood with him.

For the first almost two thirds of her life, Whisper’s mission was to make her father proud of her, to get his attention or some kind of recognition that she even existed.

That changed the day of her mother’s funeral when she discovered him having sex with one of the servers at the wake. Her mother’s body wasn’t even cold in the ground, and he was enjoying himself in the first nubile body that crossed his path.

Her respect for him had dwindled almost daily since then. She’d known he cheated. Whisper didn’t know a single man in their circle who was faithful. But to see her mother so disrespected did something. It twisted whatever optimism was left inside her, wringing it out until cynicism was all that remained.

3

Whisper was still on the floor of the limo when it came to a halt.

Cyrus shifted in his seat. “Everything of yours has been packed up and shipped to the McDade house,” her father said. “They own a townhouse in their neighborhood. You will go home with your husband tonight.”

“I figured that out all on my own,” she said, getting over the fog created by his hit.

The driver opened their door. Getting out of their way, he stepped aside; the move revealed a group of men loitering on the sidewalk. McDade men. Whisper didn’t have to be a genius to know that. Behind them was a restaurant, a homey looking, unremarkable establishment that she couldn’t remember ever visiting in the past.

The McDade men saw her too. Despite the passers-by and the noise of the vehicles on the street, she could tell that they’d stopped talking. Whisper wasn’t interested in their conversation and couldn’t have heard it anyway. Either they thought she had super hearing or their glaring was an attempt to intimidate her. Idiots. Being vigilant made sense, they didn’t have trust. An enemy was at their door. On the other hand, if they thought they could scare her, she’d stick with her label: idiots.

Cutting them some slack, Whisper considered that their silence might be something to do with seeing her sprawled on the floor of the car at her father’s feet. They couldn’t be shocked by the sight. The Dohertys treated their women with disdain and there was little chance the McDades didn’t do exactly the same.

Her father got out of the car and snapped his fingers at her. All Whisper could do was climb onto the seat and drag her fingers through her hair. When they caught on the knots, she enjoyed the sting in her scalp. Causing herself pain was a million times more satisfying than letting her father have the pleasure. So much of her life was out of her control that she clung to any glimmer of it.

Cyrus bent to grab her arm and pulled her out of the car. The men she’d seen before were gone, so at least the ogling was over; there was some solace in that.

“This is a happy occasion,” her father said, dragging her to the external stairs that led to the basement section of the restaurant. “Go in there, sit with your friends, and for God sake, behave… or you’ll get us all killed.”

Her father wasn’t the type to wilt in any room or scenario. Cyrus Doherty was made of steel. That said, the shootout had shaken everyone up. Their family had never been more vulnerable and although she had no idea how long the possibility of the alliance had been in the mix, the reality of it was still in its infancy.

The McDades weren’t going to put in much effort for the Dohertys until they proved their word was good. By going through with the wedding, Whisper had completed the first challenge. It definitely wouldn’t be the last she’d have to endure.

At the bottom of the stairs was a wooden door with a small glazed section. Next to that was a large picture window adorned with gold lettering that declared the place “Kitty’s.”

“Inside,” her father said, shoving her forward and grabbing the long brass handle to open the door in front of her.

Giving her no choice, Cyrus pushed her inside. The rumble of conversation dwindled and died. As those present assessed the Doherty interlopers, Whisper scanned the space. The large dim room had a bar to the right at the back and an empty stage to the left. Four square pillars equidistance from each other supported the floor above.

Two long, busy tables, stood far from each other with all the pillars between them, separating the families. The table closest to the door was full of what appeared to be McDade family members. On the furthest right of the pillars the other table was occupied by people familiar to her.

In between, in the middle of the pillars was a chasm of space. Maybe it was supposed to be a dance floor? Whisper doubted it. The stage was empty and she couldn’t hear a beat of music. More likely these two families just didn’t want to mix with each other.

She turned her chin toward her shoulder. “Great start to your alliance, Daddy, huh?”

Believing the families would ever be able to trust each other was insanity. That was her wedding reception, meant to be a time when they were building trust, and the two sides couldn’t even share a table. Urging her forward, her father took them past the end of the McDade table. Those around it turned to each other to mumble as she passed.

Yes, to them Whisper Doherty was a spectacle, but she couldn’t complain. The McDade side would be just as fascinating to her faction. Her father pushed her around the Doherty table with an urgency that made her deliberately slow. Offering waves and smiles to those she was happiest to see, Whisper wouldn’t be rushed. Unfortunately, there weren’t many people on that list. Really it only consisted of her girlfriends. They’d been arranged on the far sides of her two cousins. The empty space between was apparently reserved for her. Her father forced her into the seat flanked by her cousins. The ones who would never have been invited to something like this pre-bloodbath.

With her back to the wall, Whisper was in the middle of the length of the table. Cyrus planted her there between Caelan and Miles, her Uncle Dallin’s boys. The three had been promoted within the family since the shootout. Even without there being a discussion, Whisper knew her father resented the necessity of elevating his brother. Caelan and Miles loved their new positions of power, even if they were eager idiots sometimes.

Her girlfriends, Mariana and Paula had been put on either side of her cousins. Whisper would rather be sitting next to them, but the setup was no accident. Cyrus must have planned it. She couldn’t flirt with her cousins. No doubt they’d been given instructions to stop her from making any kind of scene as well.

Caelan was talking over her to his brother. Despite not acknowledging her, he at least had the presence of mind to grab one of the bottles of champagne from the table to pour her some alcohol.

Drinking from her flute, ignoring her babbling cousin, Whisper already wanted a way out. As she wondered how long the farce would go on before people started to disperse, she glanced up, past those at her table. At the other table, the eyes of the man from the altar were on her.

He sat in the position that mirrored hers. His back was to the stage and despite the hubbub at his table, he didn’t flinch. The shorter guy from the ceremony was at his side, talking, though probably not to his buddy because he wasn’t paying attention. Scrutinizing the McDade table, she counted only one woman. The pillars did obscure some of her view, but Whisper couldn’t recall seeing any other women during her initial scan from the threshold.

So, the McDades were a male clan, no shock there. Maybe the idea was to protect the females from her. Though Whisper didn’t know the specifics, no doubt her reputation preceded her. The McDades probably shared accounts of her family, just as hers did of theirs. Though there was always a chance a feeble woman such as herself didn’t feature in the tales.

Decoding his gaze at such a distance wasn’t possible. Whether he was judging her or lusting after her, she was oblivious, and didn’t much care that he was difficult to read. He was her husband, sure, but as far as she was concerned, they could maintain this same distance for the rest of their lives. Given his reputation for violence, if she was really lucky, widowhood may feature in her future. Hopefully sooner rather than later.

It was on the tip of Whisper’s tongue to ask her cousins if that was an easy thing to set up when her father rose from his seat at the top of the table. He raised a glass and didn’t do anything delicate like tap a spoon against the crystal. No, her Uncle Dallin took care of getting the room’s attention by calling out.

“Shut it! The lot of you bastards!”

Well, so much for the ladies in the room. Mariana and Paula were used to her family, and if the woman at the other table was a McDade, she’d be used to the same kind of language.

In credit to the room, everyone did quiet down. No one drew a weapon or responded with offence, they just looked to her father on his feet with his glass aloft.

It lowered in time with the start of his speech. “This is a historic day…” Cyrus began.

Whisper smiled. Anything that reminded her of just how important her father believed himself to be brought a smile to her face. It was just so ludicrous. He was a man, like any other. Thinking himself a God didn’t make him one. Though the element of irony in her silent mocking wasn’t lost on her. For most of her life, she’d believed him to be one. There was probably still some corner of her psyche that thought it could be true.

“Our two families have been at war for too long,” Cyrus continued. Whisper picked up her glass to drink, wishing for something stronger than champagne. “This union will bring us closer. We are one family now. Our interests are yours, and yours ours… Solidifying our alliance with this marriage will allow us to move forward. We will share our failures and our successes, which I’m sure will number many.”

It wasn’t exactly a typical father of the bride wedding reception speech. Whisper drained the last of her champagne and filled her glass with more. No one else at the table, or in the room, seemed to be drinking. She made her peace with her actions, figuring she had to catch up. The people at her reception might have been there for a while before the actual wedding party arrived. That was her excuse anyway.

“To the Dohertys and the McDades,” Cyrus said and raised his glass to drink.

The rest of the room drank too. Conversation resumed as Cyrus sat down again. Whisper swept a hand around her glass and gasped in a breath. Before she could stand up, both her cousins grabbed a wrist each, pinning her hands to the table.

“Your father doesn’t want you to speak,” Caelan said, leaning in at her side. “He thought you might try it.”

“It’s my wedding,” Whisper said. “I can do whatever I damn well please.”

The internal door next to the bar opened and a procession of servers came out to begin distributing food. The moment for speeches was over. She turned a glare to her father who was returning her ire.

Already Whisper knew it was going to be a long night and she doubted that signaled anything positive for her future.

4

Food was plentiful, Whisper wouldn’t have expected anything less. By the time the meal was over, night was beginning to descend outside. The long window at the front of the building, by the entrance, was lit from the outside by the lanterns on the enclosed terrace at the bottom of the stairs. The external space was used by the smokers.

At least, the Dohertys went out the front. Every once in a while, a posse of McDades used the same door the servers had emerged from. Any time the door opened, she expected a burst of light that never came. Whatever was back there, it was no kitchen. With the pillar in the way, she couldn’t see much, but couldn’t say she really cared.

Cousin Miles had left his post to scurry up to the top of the table where he huddled with her father and his.

Mariana bounced onto his seat to get closer. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?” her friend asked.

“I only found out this week,” Whisper answered.

Paula leaned over Caelan who was typing into his phone and didn’t seem to mind the skinny woman disregarding him. “You should’ve called us.”

“What would you have said?” Whisper asked, realistic about her friends’ capabilities and limits.

“We’d have said you don’t love him,” Mariana said. “How can you marry a man you don’t love?”

“You don’t understand,” Whisper said, tipping the last mouthful of champagne from the nearest bottle into her glass.

“We do understand,” Mariana said. “How can you say we don’t?”

“You think love matters,” Whisper said. “That’s how I know you don’t understand.”

“He’s attractive,” Paula said, looking over at the McDade table, something Whisper had been trying to avoid since finding the groom leering at her. Caelan let his phone drop to the table. The positive words probably perturbed him. “Though I think I’d be too scared to… you know.”

“You’re too scared of your own shadow,” Mariana said, slipping a hand under Whisper’s to link their fingers. “You know what the Wild One’s like with guys.”

“Yeah, no worse than you,” Whisper said, responding to her friend’s use of her nickname. “Speaking of which, we should go out after this.”

“Uh, you’re not allowed to go out,” Caelan said.

Whisper scoffed and reached over to take his whiskey. “Says who? It’s Friday night. We always go out on a Friday.”

“Yeah, and usually don’t get home until Sunday… sometimes Monday morning,” Mariana said, dropping her head onto her shoulder.

Whisper turned to kiss her friend’s hair. Mariana was as wild as her when it came to their nights out. Paula was more subdued, that’s what she liked to think anyway. Usually after a few drinks, Paula was almost more eager than them to party.

“Yeah, well, Cyrus said you’re following Razer’s rules now,” Caelan said.

“Razer?” Paula asked. “Who’s… who’s Razer?”

“That’s what they call Zaiden McDade,” Caelan said, blinking at the three women as they turned their focus to him and drew in closer. “Do you have any idea who he is?”

“He’s Whisper’s husband,” Mariana said, making Whisper smile. “What do you mean? Who is he?”

Whisper knew of his reputation for being vicious; details weren’t that important to her.

“Burl McDade is the head of the family,” Caelan said, looking over them to nod at the older man standing behind Zaiden’s seat. The patriarch wasn’t alone, a group that included his sons clustered around him, hanging on his every word. “He took power from his own father by slowly poisoning the man. Didn’t even have the decency to do it quick; that man’s death was torturous.”

“That’s horrible,” Paula said, sickness in her expression.

Caelan scoffed. “That’s nothing to what he did to his wife. Killed her while he was fucking her. Apparently, he did it ‘cause she asked him to give up his favorite mistress. The mistress had threatened his wife’s life, but that didn’t matter to him. He killed her for questioning him.”

“While he was…” Mariana trailed off and pulled herself closer to Whisper. “How did he kill her?”

“Did he strangle her? Smother her?” Paula asked.

The woman had an uncanny ability to appear both queasy and enthralled at the same time. Whisper had recognized Paula’s ability to do it during the numerous times she recounted the tales of her brothers’ exploits.

Making eye contact with each of them, Caelan shook his head. “Gouged out her eyes.”

A disgusted chorus of “ew” went around their group, which probably drew the attention of others. The women were too intrigued to care.

“That doesn’t kill you though,” Mariana said. “Does it? You can live without your eyes.”

“Does when you fuck the empty socket that’s left.”

Mariana and Paula made another sound of disgust.

Whisper sank back in her seat, away from the huddle. “That’s not true.”

“It’s true,” Caelan said, twisting toward her and nodding fast. “I swear on my mother’s fucking life.”

“Your mother’s dead, Caelan,” she said, tipping the rest of his whiskey into her mouth. “There’s no way Burl killed his wife like that. Even if he did, it wasn’t for asking a question. The woman gave him four sons; they must have been together a long time.”

“Ten, fifteen years, I think, maybe,” Caelan said in what was obviously a blind guess. “This was just after Doran was born… he’s the youngest…” Turning around, he scanned the table opposite and nodded to the group Burl was commanding. “The one wearing the red tie. That’s Doran, he’s the one always fucking up. The Byrnes best friend and the one we’re most worried about.”

That made her sit to attention. “Byrnes friend?”

Any notion that the McDades were friendly with the Byrnes turned her stomach.

“Not really, just… when he fucks up, it benefits them,” Caelan said. “See the problem with the McDades, they’re known for being short tempered. Previous generations couldn’t keep their guys out of prison… You know how they say serial killers are usually caught for something stupid? A broken taillight, that kind of thing.” The women nodded. “McDades can run an operation probably better than any other family. They’ve got their network, women, drugs, all of it, they’re in it, and they’ve got the guys to hide the money trails… But you piss off a McDade and he’ll put a bullet in your head, witnesses be damned.”

“Idiots,” Mariana murmured. “Who does something like that?”

“They are idiots,” Caelan said. “Some guys slights them, insults them, even in the tiniest way, and they blow a gasket… Doran’s done a couple of short stretches in prison… and everyone knows about Score McDade. Only one who can manage to hold it together is Razer… Zaid.”

Mariana stroked her arm. “Least you’ve got the calm one.”

Caelan snorted. “That’s not what I said. No fucking way. He doesn’t murder guys ‘cause he enjoys seeing them in pain. Word is the guy carries a straight razor on him at all times. He doesn’t care about the insults; he isn’t easily offended like that people say. But if his father sets him on someone, he’ll track a mark down and literally carve pieces off the guy… It’s sick. I’ve seen some of his skinning work, it would make you puke.”

A guy who could be cool and methodical in his torture; that was something. A secret corner of Whisper heard Caelan’s words as a challenge. She’d married the calm McDade, though that was a relative term given what Caelan was saying. But it sort of made her want to see how easy it would be to bring out his inner McDade.

“I don’t know about Score McDade,” Paula said. “Which one is he?”

Sitting up straighter, her friend bobbed left and right, trying to seek him out. “You won’t see him over there. Score did time in Texas for murder.”

“Did? Past tense?”

Caelan’s nod was solemn; Whisper called bullshit. “The vic wasn’t even dead, Biz set him up.”

“Biz is Parker McDade,” Mariana said, leaning against Paula. “Burl’s number one son. His second in command.”

“He set his own brother up for murder?”

“Who cares?” Mariana asked. “Zaiden is the one Whisper has to live with.”

“Zaid,” Caelan said. “Everyone around him calls him that… calling him Razer, unless you’re part of their inner circle, usually leads to bloodshed.”

“Is he violent to women?” Paula asked, the sweetheart really sounded concerned.

“They all are,” Caelan asked.

“I heard he was a psycho.”

Caelan was nodding. “He does most of the family dirty work, ‘specially now Score’s out the picture,” he said and was more discreet about his next nod across the room. “The guy with the pocket square, that’s Parker McDade, Biz, the oldest of the brothers. He’s married to Nicole, the only woman at their table. He’s all business.”

“Who’s the guy with him?” Whisper asked.

“With who?” Caelan asked, then seemed to notice her eyes were narrowed on the man standing next to Zaid. “Oh, that’s Bosco… I don’t know his story other than… well… like you see, he sticks to Razer like glue.”

“I can’t believe they call him Razor,” Paula said on an exaggerated shiver. “I get it’s ‘cause he carries a razor, but—”

“No, that’s not why,” Caelan said. “It’s not with an O, it’s with an E. When he was a kid, after his mom died, he set fire to everything, literally everything. He set fire to his family members’ homes, his schools, cars, whatever. He turned into this crazy fire razer.”

“Does he still do that?” Mariana asked. “Damn, that’s scary…”

Caelan shrugged. “Don’t know. Haven’t heard about anything going up in smoke for a while, but… maybe. I think if he has to, he’ll do whatever his father says.”

“Sure ‘cause gouging out his mother’s eyes probably really showed him what his father was capable of,” Mariana said, her lip curling to a sneer. “That’s disgusting.”

“You know they probably have stories about us too,” Whisper said, glancing at Caelan, though her sentiment was meant for Mariana and Paula as well.

They weren’t from crime families. Well, Paula wasn’t. Not exactly. Her father was a lawyer with questionable ties. Mariana’s uncle did work for the Dohertys.

“None of us ever gouged out a woman’s eyes while we were fucking her,” Caelan said.

“Says you,” Whisper said. “I don’t know what you men do while you’re in bed with women. Don’t forget two thirds of our family just died, Cae. I don’t know about all of them, but I know Keegan had a sadistic streak, that’s for goddamn sure.”

“Not that sick.”

Leaning back, she tried to seek out a clock… or some liquor. “What time is it?” Whisper asked.

“Seven thirty, maybe eight,” Caelan said. “Why?”

Whisper took Mariana’s hand, then sought out Paula’s over Caelan. “We can go get ready at your place, Paula. Be at Scooby’s by nine, maybe ten.”

Paula was nodding. Mariana pushed out her chair, ready to go.

Caelan grabbed Whisper’s arm before she could stand. “You can’t leave. It’s not allowed. Did Razer say you could go?”

“Razer hasn’t said a damn word to me,” Whisper said. “If he hasn’t given me any instructions, how can I be expected to follow them? I’m not breaking any rules.”

“Why do you want to leave?” Caelan asked, probably against revealing his concern. It was obvious, so she hoped he didn’t think he was doing a good job of hiding his worry. It was a shame really. Her cousin had been charged with controlling her, which wasn’t an easy feat. “Why not just stay and keep the peace?”

“How many reasons do you need? I don’t have any money or a drink,” she said. “There’s no music or dancing… This place is a dud.”

“You got that right,” Mariana said. “I say we hit the clubs hard tonight.”

“Agreed,” Whisper said, pulling her friends to their feet.

Caelan didn’t let her go, so he was forced to stand too. “Okay, hold on, how’s this,” he said, opening his arms in an attempt to block them against the table. “I’ll buy you all liquor… and there’s a jukebox in the corner. You can find something to dance to on there … right?”