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“You can talk at me from this millennium to the next,” Whisper said. “Nothing will change.”
“You think,” Score said, walking away from her and across to the desk.
Despite Beeks being older, he leaped out of the executive chair to make way for Score to sit down.
“What do you think you can say to change my feelings on this?” she asked. “We don’t squeal. No Doherty would even consider testifying against their own blood.”
Whisper didn’t blame him for being angry with his brother. She didn’t know how many exactly, but Score had lost years of his life to prison. Years he wouldn’t ever get back.
A bunch of people on the street, and probably more than a few ignorant civilians, still connected the name Score McDade to death row… with murdering a woman who’d shared his bed. That would be a
