Seeking Vengeance: Callaghan Brothers, Book 4

Title Page

Copyright Page

Seeking Vengeance

Before You Begin

Acknowledgements

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

Special Note from Abbie

Thanks for reading Sean and Nicki’s story

About the Author

Also by Abbie Zanders

Seeking Vengeance

Callaghan Brothers, Book 4

W
ARNING:  Due to frequent strong language and graphic scenes of a sexual nature, this book is intended for mature (21+) readers only.  In addition, this particular story touches upon some very dark, disturbing topics.

If these things offend you, then this book is not for you. 

If, however, you like your alphas a little rough around the edges and some serious heat in your romance, then by all means, read on...

S
pecial thanks to Aubrey Rose Cover Designs for this amazing cover!

Special thanks also go to some very special ladies – Deb, Anjee, Shelly, and Carol (and a few of you who prefer to remain unnamed – you know who you are) - for reading the first draft and making invaluable suggestions.  This is a better story because of them. 

“J
esus Christ, NO!” Nick cried out.  Tears filled the pale gray eyes of the fourteen year old boy, obscured by the curtains of jet black hair that fell freely about his face.  He was thin for his age, but appearances were deceiving.  He had more lean, sinewy muscle than his contemporaries, and he was faster than the star sprinter on his junior high track team.  Organized sports was not something Nick Milligan was familiar with, though.  His muscle and speed came purely from the basic human instinct to survive in a world where the weak didn’t stand a chance. 

His twin sister’s eyes were moist as well, but she refused to cry.  Crying was for little girls, and she was no little girl anymore.  Nick had protected her as much as he could, but there was only so much he could do, no matter how much of a man he had already become. 

The look of torment on his face was heartbreaking.  He’d already suffered so much, hoping that by doing so she might be spared, but in the end, it wasn’t enough.  While they shared the same lithe, athletic build, Nicki was blossoming into womanhood, and had drawn the attention of the one man from whom Nick had hoped to protect her above all others.

“It’s alright,” she tried to console him.  Even when she was about to cross the threshold into Hell itself, she had such strength, such courage.

“It’s NOT alright!” he yelled, making her wince.  The last thing they needed was to draw attention to themselves.  The little back alley was located in one of the nicer sections of town, where even the garbage bins were scrubbed regularly and the pavement was kept free of debris by regular sweepings.  It had afforded them a place to hunker down when they had nowhere else to go.  Unlike downtown, the people who lived in the apartments around here would call the police if they suspected something amiss.

“Keep your voice down!” she hissed, reaching out for his arm.  Nick took a deep breath and nodded, though he couldn’t see where it made a difference now.  There was no place they could hide, not anymore.

“We can leave, Nicki,” he said desperately, unwilling and unable to accept the ugly truth.  We can run away, just the two of us.”

“And go where?  Do what?”

“We’ll figure something out.” 

She smiled sadly, far too knowing for a girl her age.  “Benny will make an example out of her.”

“Who cares?” Nick spat. 

Her pale eyes shone with censure.  “You should.  She’s our mother.”

“Some mother,” Nick sneered, the sound tinged with hate and disgust.  Charlene Milligan was their “mother” only on paper – on the birth certificates filed somewhere in the state capitol, and as their legal guardian when the assistance checks came.  Not that they ever saw any of it.  The clothes on their back came to them the same way everything else did – by stealing and scrounging and doing unspeakable things for them.

“At least I’ll have a warm place to sleep and a roof over my head,” she said.  It was little consolation, but winter was right around the bend and they had to be practical.  “Maybe they’ll even put us up in the same house.”

“You have no idea what’s going to happen to you, Nicki,” he said, his eyes haunted.  But Nick did. 

“You survived,” she said, lifting her chin and piercing him with those pale gray eyes so like his own.  Nick turned away.  He couldn’t stand the fact that she knew what he had been forced to do, the things that had been done to him, all in “bartered payment” for the money Charlene owed the local drug lord.  At one time Charlene had whored herself in trade, but the years and the regular abuse hadn’t been kind to her, and she didn’t bring in as much as she used to.  So she did the next best thing.  She offered up her children as payment instead. 

For a long time, they hadn’t even realized it was wrong.  It was the only world they knew.

“Don’t do this...” he pleaded.

“It’s not like we have a lot of options,” she said quietly.  “And it’s only my body, Nick.  He’ll never touch my soul.”

Nick Milligan broke down and cried.  He would have done anything at that point if he could have spared his sister the pain and humiliation she would soon face.  He cursed the woman who birthed them, cursed her to the worst pits of hell.  What kind of woman sold her children, knowing how they would be used?  At least he had been “promoted”; Benny Marscone realized Nick could make him a hell of a lot more money dealing drugs at the schools than as a boy toy for perverts, especially now that he had lost most of the boyish features that many had paid top dollar for. 

But Nicki – she was strikingly beautiful, her features bordering on angelic.  Pale skin, pale eyes, jet black hair – she was the picture of innocence, even though she’d spent most of her life on the streets as he had.  Somehow she managed to retain a childlike purity about her that was irresistible to the darker elements, and Benny would exploit her for all she was worth.

Nicki held him, let him cry into her shoulder as she stroked his back.  “I’m strong, just like you.  And someday, Nick, I swear to you, I’m going to kill Benny.”  Her voice was soft, but held a conviction as strong as steel.

Nick nodded, wishing it were true, but he knew better.  Benny Marscone was untouchable.  He didn’t just deal with the dregs of society; Benny had the cops, the local judges, and several “pillars of the community” in his pocket.  What could a delicate flower like his twin sister do?

“I’d better go,” she said, pulling away and wiping at her own eyes. 

He swallowed hard and nodded, sick with grief but proud of her courage.  He watched her walk down the alley, her head held high, until she disappeared around the corner.  Then Nick picked up his backpack and followed her out of the alley, turning in the opposite direction when he hit the street to make his deliveries.

T
en Years Later, Pine Ridge, Pennsylvania

“Goddamnit!” Sean cursed as he hung up the phone.  “Nick!”  His voice bellowed out clearly from his office, easily heard by the mechanics at work in the six-bay garage.  Nick Milligan received sympathetic looks from the others as he put down the wrench and wiped his hands carelessly on his coveralls.

“Yeah, boss?” he said, poking his head through the open doorway.  There was only a slight hint of cockiness in the guy’s tone, a huge improvement from the mountain-sized chip he sported only a few months ago when Sean decided to take a chance on his sorry ass. 

Deep down, Sean sensed Nick was a decent enough guy who’d had a lot of bad breaks.  According to his application, Nick was pushing twenty-four chronologically – only a scant few years less than Sean – but there was something about Nick that made Sean think of him more as a kid.  Maybe it was the way he moved, or the way he smiled – though those occasions were few and far between. 

Or maybe it was his inability to respond well to authority.  Nick simply hadn’t grown up yet, but there was potential.  This garage was probably his last chance before he ended up as a permanent guest of the great Commonwealth of Pennsylvania penal system.  That made Sean push even harder, because he really wanted the kid to make it.  Once you got past the attitude, he really was likable, not to mention an excellent mechanic.  He had a real future ahead of him.

If he could keep his head out of his ass, that was.

“Why isn’t Mr. Thompson’s Benz finished yet?” 

Sean was proud of himself.  He kept his voice even, non-accusatory.  His sister-in-law, Taryn, said he had a tendency to yell first and ask questions later.  That, she’d explained, was probably why he’d gone through four mechanics in the last three months. 

As much as he liked Taryn, Sean disagreed with her assessment, though arguably they shared the same kick-ass temperament.  And while he was more than ready to recognize
her
innate tendency to act first and ask questions later, he failed to see how that applied to
him
.  In contrast,
he
was more apt to cite blatant incompetence and attitude problems rather than what Taryn had dubbed his ‘impossibly high expectations’, but conceded, somewhat reluctantly, that Taryn might have a valid point about his quick temper.

Sean saw the tick in Nick’s jaw, caught the slight narrowing of the eyes. 
Don’t go there, kid
, Sean thought. Every eye in the place was on them. 
Don’t make me make an example out of you.
 

Sean didn’t give a damn what the rest of the guys thought; this exercise was intended for Nick and Nick alone.  If the kid was ever going to make anything of himself, he had to learn how to handle shit without losing his temper or mouthing off.  Nick had guts, smarts, and some mad skills with cars.  Now he just needed the self-control and the maturity to take it to the next level.

Self-control was something Sean mastered in.  For all intents and purposes, he was the twenty-seven year old owner and chief mechanic of Callaghan Auto in the small northeastern Pennsylvania town of Pine Ridge.  Nestled among the mountains, it was a quiet, peaceful community that he and his family called home.  He was also a former SEAL, just like his father and six brothers. 

What most people didn’t know was that once their traditional six-year commitments to the SEALs had been completed, they didn’t stop serving.  The family patriarch, Jack Callaghan, had formed an elite team of his own.  Technically, their special little group did not exist.  Realistically, they were called upon frequently to handle situations “accountable” agencies couldn’t touch.  They were a team of ghosts, non-existent to all but a few very highly-placed “believers”.  There was a lot of freedom, they found, in not having to answer to anyone except themselves.

And sometimes, the end really did justify the means.

His current problem, however, had nothing to do with terrorists, political madmen, or wealthy puppet-masters who had no regard for the sanctity of human life and liberty, and everything to do with the kid teetering on the edge of making something of himself and pissing away his last chance.

Shane, his twin, was so much better at this kind of shit.  Especially when Sean couldn’t shake the nagging sense of unease making him restless.  It started a couple of days earlier and had been building since.  The last thing he wanted to deal with in his heightened sense of awareness was unhappy customers or ineffectual employees.

Attitude problems notwithstanding, Nick was arguably his best mechanic.  He went through twice the workload of anyone else.  Like Sean, the kid had a natural talent for engines.  Perhaps that is why Sean took him under his wing when no one else would hire him – Nick reminded him a little of himself, or what he might have been had life dealt him a different hand.

But something was going on with Nick lately.  He was off, distracted.  Not thinking things through like he normally would.  And the last couple of weeks he’d started disappearing for an hour here, an hour there, saying only that he “had things to take care of”.