Page 2 of Forbidden Bond

Strat. Another shiver of fear.

Anger faded to a sheer terror she didn’t want her father to see.

“What?”

“What is his address?”

“I am not taking you to his place.”

“His son then—”

“No! Why would I—”

“You do this! You help me or your lover will not be the only one going to hell tonight.”

Gritting her teeth, the fire of anger in her belly threatened to erupt. She’d allow it to burst, if she wasn’t so damned impotent.

“I won’t let you near him.”

“His son—”

“No! Why would I open my network to—”

“I have the power to dismantle everything that slug built. Do you want me to make a call and bring in every McDade that walks the street?”

Yes, she sort of did, because at least then they’d know something was going on. Except if each person was brought inalone, how long would it take anyone to notice Conn wasn’t among them? She needed McDades, needed them to hear her silent plea and start looking.

Niall would find him.

Though their First Team, as Conn called them, were asleep. Niall was the only hope. The guys outside her grandfather’s would never enter and interrupt a meeting. The silenced shot would’ve passed by unheard. She and her father went out the back. No one knew her love was there, slowly bleeding to death, the cuff on his wrist preventing him seeking help on his own.

“Stag,” she said. “Go to Stag, we have cars there.”

“Ha!” His single beat of incredulous laughter startled her. “Don’t play games with me, you think I’m that stupid?”

“I think you’re that crazy.” And entitled. “You said you needed a car and I’m telling you there are vehicles there.”

“And plenty of men you might appeal to for help.”

Yeah, rocking up with her father would be bad enough. When they saw the cuffs and the gun, and the lack of their leader…

Someone would rouse Niall, wouldn’t they? Who else would be on-site? She didn’t know if there were cars for the taking. Even if there were, she wouldn’t know where to find keys. If she could stall—who would know her well enough to read between the lines?

“I won’t—”

He raised the gun, aiming it toward her stomach. “Stop playing with me.”

“Shoot me,” she said, shifting her angle to give him a bigger target. “Please. Now. Just do it. Maybe then they’ll find out what you’re really capable of. Any man who can murder his own father can murder his daughter. You’ll go to prison. Forever. Well, for as long as the McDades let you live.”

“I didn’t murder anyone. We already have a witness putting McDade at my father’s the night he was murdered. When they find your body next to his, we’ll call it murder-suicide and no one will bat an eye. Has the added advantage that Silvio will win the Harvest deal by default, and my standing will—”

“You make me sick.”

They’d never got along. Once she’d been sorry he couldn’t accept her. Now, glaring at his profile, nothing would erase her disgust. He hadn’t accepted her? Fuck that; she’d never accept him.

“You were the architect of his demise, his and yours, if you don’t do as you’re told.”

“Strat’s,” she whispered, resigned to their fate, and gave him the address.

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