Page 6 of Forbidden Need

Security rushed over, but her hand rose a few inches from her side, signaling them to stop. Whisper Doherty did not need any help when it came to lecherous guys taking a chance.

“I didn’t—I—”

The bead of blood at the point of Whisper’s knife grew larger. The woman was tiny but didn’t let that stop her. Perched half on the stool, the beauty knew how to stand up for herself. Dohertys, like McDades, learned that early.

“What do you say to my friend?” Whisper asked. “Speak!”

As more people noticed the scene, they stopped to gawp. Being transfixed herself, she couldn’t blame them.

“S—sorry?” the guy stuttered.

Renewed pressure on the blade brought more blood. “Was that a question?”

“No. No! I’m sorry!”

Biggs appeared on the other side of the bar. Whisper nodded at him, so he grabbed the guy’s arm to hold him in place while Whisper dismounted like a pro and sheathed the knife under her dress against her thigh.

Whisper smiled, even as she turned back to address the assailant…? Victim? Predator? Which was he? “And you’re welcome by the way, jerkoff,” the Doherty said as security hauled him up. “If my husband was here, you’d never walk again.” She winced. “Or have children.” Whisper whirled to face her. “Let’s go upstairs, High Class. You see what happens when you mix with the masses?”

Whisper came over to loop their arms together and start across the room.

“My colleague—”

“Will be taken care of.”

That was a daunting, and somewhat terrifying, prospect. “You don’t mean… McDade taken care of… do you?”

“No,” Whisper scoffed. “I’m a Doherty.”

The guys guarding the stairs moved without blinking, allowing them to pass. Okay, so she was with Whisper. Anyone who’d seen, or heard, what just happened in the club likely wouldn’t get in her way. God knew what else the woman had done since her arrival in town.

Whisper led her into the office like it was no big deal. Oh, it was a big deal. For her.

Their arms broke apart as the Doherty ventured toward the desk. “He’s a bear,” Whisper called back from the decanter in the corner. “Your guy.”

“I don’t have a guy,” she murmured, absorbing mental flashes of memory assaulting her from every direction.

They’d had sex on the desk, against the McDade emblem on the wall, right there in the middle of the rug too. Connel shot a guy not far from where she stood for interrupting their intimacy. He’d watched her with Dasha and Darla on that couch. Touched her—

“Ire will like that you don’t have another guy,” Whisper said, turning and raising her glass before drinking. “No, actually, maybe not. He’s on a violent spree. Maybe he’d like tossing some of your love interests in the mix, just to keep things interesting.” With a sort of exhaled laugh, she beckoned her over. “Shit, come in. I didn’t think you’d need an invitation.”

“I shouldn’t be up here,” she said. “I’m not supposed to—”

“Look, you’re here and it’s not for him… apparently.” Did Whisper think otherwise? “Come, sit down, we should talk.”

Curiosity drew her forward. “About?”

“The family,” Whisper said. “You haven’t switched allegiance, have you?”

“No!” she said, offended, then faltered. “Connel doesn’t want me involved.”

Whisper finished the whiskey and put the glass back on the table in the far corner. “Maybe, maybe not.” She crossed to sit on the couch. “But I think we can help each other out.”

Yes, she was intrigued, no denying that. By what? Connel? Her interest in the family? The investigative nature of her job? Any or all those reasons may be guilty of luring her to sit on the couch by Whisper.

“Help each other with what?”

“Ire’s on a kick.”

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