Forbidden need, p.1
Forbidden Need, page 1
part #4 of Forbidden Series Series
Copyright © 2024 Scarlett Finn
Published by Moriona Press 2024
All rights reserved.
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
First published in 2024
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.
FORBIDDEN
Forbidden Desire
Forbidden Want
Forbidden Wish
Forbidden Need
Forbidden Bond
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For other titles from Scarlett Finn, please read on after the story.
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Enjoy!
CONTENTS
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY-FIVE
THIRTY-SIX
THIRTY-SEVEN
THIRTY-EIGHT
THIRTY-NINE
FORTY
FORTY-ONE
FORTY-TWO
FORTY-THREE
FORTY-FOUR
FORTY-FIVE
FORTY-SIX
FORTY-SEVEN
FORTY-EIGHT
FORTY-NINE
FIFTY
ONE
“SOUNDS GREAT, TOM. Tulip, what you got?”
Their editor, Steeple, had great relationships with his reporters. Monday morning meetings in his office highlighted that easy rapport every time. He could switch from one person to another and always trust whatever would come from their mouths. Everyone got a fair chance, support, acceptance. Man, she envied his security; his certainty and faith in those around him.
He had a wife, a home, somewhere safe to go back to every night. His life was together, balanced, mature… She needed a piece of that.
“It’s a little out of your wheelhouse,” Steeple said in response to whatever Tulip just said.
Young Tulip was sitting by the window on the arm of the couch, legs folded beneath her. “It’s been weeks and no one has an answer.”
The words of her colleagues passed her by. Where was her professional courtesy? Half a dozen people already took their turns and she hadn’t heard a word. As the meeting trundled along, she spaced out. Not that it was anything new. Why had she bothered to show up? These days she struggled to focus on anything. Her erratic lack of concentration didn’t have a cure. Not one in her control.
“Sersha’s your girl for that.”
Her head jerked up from her doodling; the heel of her hand dropped from beneath her chin. The others around the small conference table, and scattered throughout the room, zeroed in.
Steeple and Tulip held the most expectation.
Her attention darted back and forth between them. “I’m what?”
Tulip smiled. “Your work is amazing.”
“Thank you,” she said, then appealed to Steeple for direction. “What do—”
“The McDades.”
A shiver went through her.
Tulip spoke again. “No better guide.”
“What do you want to know?” she asked the nightlife reporter.
The audience made her nervous, but even alone, her guard would be high.
“To be honest, I worried about stepping on your toes, but I’d love any support you can offer. You are the expert.”
“I’m no McDade expert.”
“You were shadowing him for weeks and… nothing,” Tulip said, her discerning eye growing acute. “Right around the time the Doherty showed up.”
Him. Tulip wasn’t talking about the McDades, she was talking about Connel “Ire” McDade. Her McDade, in secret, once upon a time. Oh, shit, suddenly her chest hurt.
“Okay, folks, next Monday same time,” Steeple called and people rose. “You’ve got my number if you need me.” Reporters shuffled out. “Ser, Tulip, hang back.”
Like they were being pulled in front of the principal, they went to the desk and waited until everyone else departed.
Steeple laid his forearms on the desk, palms flat, looking at each of them in turn. “Tulip, you’re on this. We need this. So many have tried to get the story on why Razer McDade and his Doherty showed up in the city. No one can get close.”
In the past, or other circumstances, her arm would’ve shot into the air, waving and bouncing as she begged the teacher to call on her. She had answers. Insider information. And it didn’t matter one iota.
Her McDade knowledge never made The Chronicler’s pages and it never would. She’d never write it, never share it, him, them, with anyone. Except Strat, her forty-something source and BFF. Strat was the exception; nothing new there.
“We have to go in through Stag,” Tulip said, pulling a chair closer to the desk to sit down. “It’s the way in.”
“Others have tried it,” Steeple said.
Tulip disagreed. “No one from this paper.”
Once again, Sersha was Ms. Popular. “What?”
“Tonight,” Tulip said, leaping to her feet again. “I’ll grab a cab and come pick you up around eight?”
Words failed her. Mouthing nothing, she appealed to Steeple, but he just crooked an expectant brow. This was happening whether she wanted it to or not.
“You’ve gotta back her up,” Steeple said. “I can’t let her go in alone.”
Tulip wouldn’t get answers. Still, being present, she could ensure the woman stayed alive.
“Nothing happens in the club before ten,” she said on a sigh, retrieving her phone from her pocket. “I’ll text you my address.”
“Give us a minute, Tulip.”
Without question the woman followed their boss’s request.
“You need to be honest with me now,” he said the moment the door was in the frame. “If the McDades threatened you—”
“They didn’t threaten me.”
“You dropped the McDade story so fast, and flipped back to the Manzanis, I don’t know what to think. It’s understandable if the attack knocked your confidence. The paper will cover whatever therapy or rehab you need. Is that what it is? The attack? Because you’ve been back on the horse, running at full steam recently. I thought you were doing good. But if Tulip’s walking into danger—”
“There were no threats. Are no threats.”
“I don’t want you banged up again.”
“That wasn’t the McDades either. And, by the way, just for the record, you didn’t care about me walking into Stag alone. You didn’t send me with backup.”
“I didn’t know you were going to Stag until after it was a done deal.” Good point. “And given your family connections, anyone would be crazy to screw with you.” Something they all thought before her attack. “You’ve also grown up aware of the dangers these families pose. And you know some of the players involved.” Evander “Vex” Manzani anyway. “Tulip is enthusiastic and motivated. She’s wanted something to sink her teeth into for a while. No offense, but you kind of handed her the opening.” Her mouth opened in outrage as she folded her arms. “Everyone expected you to pick up the story of Razer McDade appearing at his cousin’s door. It’s the biggest story we’ve had in this arena, in this city, for months. People are hungry to know. Instead, that seemed to be the catalyst for you to cut ties. You’ve had time to take the story on your own and chose not to do that.”
Anyone else would want to get into the nitty gritty of it. She, in contrast, avoided the subject and the family. For reasons. Her reasons. Reasons that couldn’t be shared.
“Look…” Steeple continued, “if you really don’t want to do it, I won’t force you. But if anything happens to Tulip out there on her own—”
“It’s on me, right?”
He shrugged. Connel wouldn’t hurt Tulip just for showing up. But if she asked the wrong question in earshot of certain parties… Hell, if she got herself cornered by some asshole, it could mean big trouble.
“Have you spoken to him?”
She snapped from her mind’s meandering. “Have I spoken to who?”
“Helios Manzani.” Shit. That wasn’t the man on her mind. Not even close. “You’re still trying to engage with him, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, it’s a process. It’s taking more time than I’d like. We’re writing, but he won’t agree to a call or visit yet.”
“Then this is idea l. Something to keep you busy while you work the other story.”
Yeah, ideal… providing Connel, or any of his men, didn’t see her. If they did, how did she explain showing up at Stag unannounced after all these weeks?
TWO
“YOU LOOK GREAT,” Tulip said when she got in the cab.
Anticipatory energy buzzed around her. The woman was psyched liked this was a slam dunk. Nothing was guaranteed. Experience taught her that. Tulip may only be a couple of years younger than her, but her aura suggested a lack of awareness.
“What do you know about the McDade family?”
“What everyone knows. What’s been in the news. I searched our archives too.” The Chronicler had newspapers in many major cities around the country. “You were attacked.”
Right. Sure. That had to be the first thing that came up.
“That’s not the beginning of the McDade story. There’s background.”
“That you never revealed to anyone. You gave the cops minimal information and your father’s Police Superintendent. You gave no media interviews, no quote, even to your own paper.”
Shifting in her seat, she took a better look at the younger woman. Maybe she wasn’t as innocent as it first appeared.
Tulip smiled like there was much more beneath her benign exterior and took a deep breath. “Errol McDade, father to Clancy, Burl, and Amos. Burl had four sons, Biz, Score, Razer, and Play. Score spent a decade on death row after being set up by Biz, who wanted him out of the picture. When this was discovered, Score was liberated. But he’s known for settling scores, hence his nickname. He left prison, relocated to Miami and opened a nightclub. From there, he started working with the feds, gathering information on his father and older brother, Biz. His testimony put both of them in prison. He gave no incriminating evidence against Razer or Play, who stayed silent during the trial. They moved to Miami to be near Score and his now wife Shyla. The three brothers have been living there happily; Score has a kid and a second on the way.”
“So you know a lot about the McDades who aren’t here?”
That part of the McDade family had been the one most publicized in recent years.
“That’s the thing,” Tulip said, her excitement returning. “Razer is here. He came here with his wife Whisper Doherty. She’s basically the only surviving member of the Doherty family. They were the East Coast McDades’ greatest rivals. That’s a whole other story in itself.”
“One we don’t have time for,” Sersha said. “I need to know that you understand what you’re walking into before we get to this club. You can’t ask direct questions. You can’t be excited or get in anyone’s face. We’re two women going to the bar for a drink, that’s it.”
“Why would we choose Stag?”
“Because it’s safe… and dangerous at the same time.” Anxiety niggled. How many people might recognize her? How long would word of her presence take to creep up the tree? Only a few weeks ago, she’d been there every day… and in their boss’s bed. “I’m your back up, your support, not an active player.”
Interest furrowed Tulip’s brow. “You’re nervous. Reluctant. Steeple said your McDade investigation went nowhere, but word around the office is it ended abruptly. No one really knew why… Straight after Razer and Whisper showed up. What’s going on? What’s happening in that family? Why did Nicole McDade, Biz’s wife, come with them? Why is she even still a part of the equation? Her husband’s in prison. For all intents and purposes, Score put him there. Score and Razer are close, I don’t understand how Nicole fits in.”
“And that’s what you hope to do?” she asked. “Fit Nicole in? You won’t learn about their intentions in Stag.”
“Tell me how to do it? What better way is there?”
In truth, Stag was as good a place as any to begin. If someone wanted information, rumors, gossip, they had to be near the source. Tulip wouldn’t get answers ambushing Whisper or Razer directly. That would put her on the enemy list; people on that list never got cooperation.
“We just have to be careful,” Sersha said. “One wrong move, one wrong word, and things will get serious fast.”
“Are you afraid of them? Your brother’s a cop. If you want him to join us—”
“If Lach was with us, we wouldn’t get in,” she said, unsure if they would anyway.
Connel’s mood was volatile. The slightest thing could set him off. If he blacklisted someone, that was it… Until he appeared in that someone’s apartment in the middle of the night to change the rules… in her case anyway.
Was she bitter? Pissed? Maybe. She went through cycles of being angry at him, aching for him, crying, cursing, missing him. That last one never really went away. Sometimes she wasn’t mad at him, it was herself. Why couldn’t she just let him go? Let them go? It’s over, deal with it, move on. To whom? Who could possibly follow a man like Connel McDade? Memories tormented her.
The loft. The club. She dreamed of being in his office with him. Still on waking she’d reach for him or grab her phone, but she couldn’t contact him.
Communicating would be unfair on them both. And what would be the point of trying? Either he embraced her return and they wound up back where they ended last time, or he shunned her and she’d have to experience losing him all over again.
They rounded the corner and there it was: Stag.
No backing out now. They stopped behind a cab already there. Tulip slid to the front of the seat, hand dipping into her purse.
“No,” Sersha said, opening an app on her phone. “This is going on company expenses.”
She held her phone to the cab driver’s machine and then someone opened the door.
Hock. Shit. One of the guys tasked with protecting her when Connel’s bodyguards fleshed out her entourage. They made eye contact as she got out but said nothing. Tulip didn’t seem to notice the exchange. Ignoring the line of people behind the rope, Hock led them to the VIP entrance, on the other side of the regular access with its guards and metal detectors.
“Look at this…” Tulip leaned in to mutter, looping her fingers around her wrist. “VIP treatment.”
She didn’t recognize the bouncers when they moved aside for Hock. Though she spent little time ogling them. Connel rotated his guys regularly, so they’d know every inch of the operation and real estate, and always be on guard. Complacency was dangerous.
Hock moved aside, stopping at the bottom of the stairs shielded by security. Panic hit for a second, did he expect her to go up there?
He winked and side-nodded, indicating they should keep going.
Relief.
Though, yeah, that only lasted a few feet. Then they reached the coat check. A line of people waited for that too, but she glimpsed the counter…
Connel fucked her on that counter… while a bunch of his men listened. The things he’d said… the pleasure he gave…
The curve of her lips was involuntary. Lowering her chin, she tried to hide her reaction to the memory. The shadows of the wide hallway helped with that. Bass from the club drew them closer.
The vast bar and seating area with tables and booths was slightly raised over the dance floor, with the DJ booth in the furthest corner. Somehow the acoustics meant the music filled the space, yet semi-conversation was still possible in that area.
Tulip headed for the bar, but she stalled. Scanning the space, she breathed in the air. The spiral stairs to the apartment stood steeped in darkness. Someone would be there, blocking the route. Would she be granted access? What about the office? Would she get in there?
“What’s wrong?” Tulip asked, at her side again. “What do you see?”
“Nothing,” she said, holding Tulip’s hand to guide her across the room toward the bar. “What do you drink?”
“Where are the restrooms?” Tulip asked as they sat on adjacent stools.
“You need the restroom already?”
“I like to get a lay of the land.”
“There’s some by the hallway we just came through and others in the back corner.”
She twisted to point across the space at both options. Better to gesture than say something that might pique Tulip’s curiosity again. When she turned back, there was a drink in front of her. On an exhale, her shoulders dropped. Biggs was there, right there, waiting.
