Page 49 of Forbidden Bond

Vex, Evander, had wanted her for years. Working with the McDades, he somehow thought, increased his chance to be close to her, intimate with her. Damn, that boy could not read a room. Conn wouldn’t share her with anyone for anything.

“He’ll be desperate. If you shut off his Manzani support—”

“Won’t matter ‘cause he’ll live the rest of his life in our basement.”

A quiver at the back of her neck traveled to the tips of her fingers. “He will?”

“It’s one insult too many. If Silvio wants his son back, he’ll have to pay.”

“With what? No opposition on the rezoning vote?”

“Among other things.”

“I want Strat to give me away.” Their eyes met. “Him and Lach. When we get married.” He raised a brow. “Mo Grá.”

“One spectacle at a time.”

Guiding her mouth to his with a strong grip on her head, he gave her reassurance and his promise. Strat was one of them. An honorary McDade. That promised anyone who threatened him a short expiry date. She wanted to be there but trusted her guy. Would Strat trust him too?

EIGHTEEN

HER TEMPLES ACHED. The mood in the rec room was somehow both amped and subdued at the same time. Fewer men hung out than before though more eyes tracked her, if that was possible. Were the ranks blaming her for this or worried she’d pitch a fit?

“I’m going to take a minute,” she said and stood.

Daly tossed the controller aside and rose to his feet. Hock, Snuff, even Biggs were right there with him.

“We’re in McDade territory. There isn’t anywhere safer for—you know what? It’s fine.” She raised the phone glued to her hand since the troops left. “Can I go stand over there and make a call?”

They all looked at each other before settling into their seats again.

She wanted to call Strat. To call her guy. To find out what was happening and whether or not they were safe. Except that was probably the worst thing she could do. They needed to be focused, to have their wits, and didn’t need her interrupting.

She called Lach first, no answer. Of course there was no answer. Her brother loved putting her on edge. That was sarcastic because the opposite was truer; he’d chased her down in the face of crazy drama. She was the trouble magnet. Her imagination might work overtime fearing her brother was dying, or stolen, or dead, but he could just as easily be asleep, at work, or out having some fun. Wouldn’t that be overdue?

Steeple was next.

“Sersh?”

She smiled. That thread of wariness, the acute knowing, the intrigue, the concern, her boss, Steeple, could convey so much in just the way he said her name.

“I disappeared. I’m sorry.”

“That guy came over, your bodyguard, said you were taking a few days. How are you doing?”

So her guy covered her ass by sending Daly to her boss? Though she’d have to ask Daly if that was a calm conversation or if he’d pulled out his toothpick.

“I’m okay. Getting by.”

“Figured you’d call tonight.”

Uh… “Why tonight?”

“You always know about this shit before the cops do. You want to write it?”

Confusion edged into dread. “Write what?”

“Shooting at that not-so-secret Manzani place, cops, paramedics—the fire department sure did their job, but it’s all a shitshow. Can you ID the bodies that were pulled out?”

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