Unwritten Rules (Filthy Florida Alphas 3)

“Dusty! We’re playing Go Fish! You wanna come play?” Desi cries excitedly.

“Are you short stuff? Maybe I will after the doctor looks at Toi.”

“Doctor?” Desi and I say this together, and I think we’re both panicked.

“Marcum wants your voice checked out,” Dusty answers.

My hand goes to my throat, touching it on reflex.

“Toi’s voice is broken,” Desi says.

“It sure is, but Ride’s friend thinks she can fix it,” Dusty says, stepping aside. Ride, who is a member of the club, comes in. Following him is a really tall woman with long black hair. Ride has to be way over six foot. If I was guessing, six and a half, and this woman is just a couple of inches shorter than him. She’s beautiful too, coal black hair, soft ivory complexion, slim with a little curve and those jeans she’s wearing hug her body. I don’t think I’m horribly ugly. I’m decent. My ass is definitely too big, but it doesn’t matter how much I diet—it never goes away. I also will never be smooth and ooze femininity like this lady does. Most days I’m lucky if I don’t trip over my own feet.

I shake my head no, standing up. Desi comes to stand in front of me, and it’s so cute because I think she’s trying to protect me.

“It’s just an exam,” the woman says, and her voice is even beautiful.

“My Toi don’t like doctors,” Desi says, grabbing my hand, and if I wasn’t so annoyed I’d giggle.

“She needs to see her.” This comes from Marcum, and suddenly my rather large room feels way too small. He sucks all of the air out of the room.

“Daddy, Toi don’t like doctors,” Desi whines, arguing and still standing in front of me as if she’s defending me from the world. Is it any wonder I can’t make myself leave?

“Remember that time you fell and hurt your wrist?” Marcum asks, getting down on his knees in front of Desi. His large, ink covered hand gently holds his daughter’s face, and my heart squeezes. How can he be such an asshole, but yet be so tender with his daughter? The softness he gives his kids makes me ache. I’ve never seen a man do that, and Marcum seems like the last man on the planet who would do that—yet he does, so easily.

“Yeah, you made me go to the hospital,” Desi mumbles, and the accusing look she gives her father is sweet and funny at the same time.

“And it made it better, right?”

“They used a needle on me,” she mumbles, clearly not willing to concede the point.

“But they made you feel better, right?” Marcum keeps pushing, and I can see him smile, though his lips are hidden by his beard.

“The needle hurt,” Desi grumbles.

“Well the doctor isn’t going to use any needles on Toi.”

“She’s not?”

“Not a one,” Marcum confirms.

“You’re not?” Desi asks the woman, obviously wanting to make that clear.

“Not a one.” The woman smiles.

“Dusty, you take Desi back to her room, and you stay with her and Harley. Ride, you get with Ghost and lock our guest down,” Marcum orders.

“What about his demands?”

“Keep him contained.”

“Got it man,” Ride answers. He kisses the doctor on the cheek before he leaves. “See you soon gypsy,” he says, and he squeezes her hip in a familiar move that only a lover would do.

She smiles at him and, in that moment, I doubt she realizes anyone else is in the room. I find myself envious of her, but I don’t have time for that. Desi hugs me and then leaves the room with Dusty. I cross my hands at my chest and look directly at Marcum.

“No.”

“You don’t have a choice, Dragonfly. I’m getting your throat looked at. I like your voice. I want to hear more of it.”

For some reason hearing that he likes my voice gives me a funny feeling. I ignore it. It’s not a good idea to get distracted around Marcum.

“No,” I answer again and he stands up, softness leaving his face as he looks at me. Now, his face is filled with annoyance. I’m okay with that, because I’m annoyed too.

“I’m not asking, Toi. I’m telling you that you’re going to let Kasha look at you.”

Kasha. Jesus. It’s not enough she looks like a movie star; she has to have an exotic name too.

Those feelings of inadequacy just keep growing.

I huff and go to the bed to get my notebook and pen. I ignore how lacking I feel when I stand so close to the doctor. Will Marcum notice how useless I am next to her? Why do I care?

When I turn back around, Marcum yanks the notebook out of my hand.

“Use your damn voice, Toi! Quit relying on a crutch.”

His harsh voice and the way he yells at me in front of the doctor, when I already feel so much less, wounds something inside of me. I hate myself even more because I know the exact moment Marcum can see the tears gather in my eyes.