The Wedding Pact (The O'Malleys #2) (22 page)

But obeying meant never seeing James again. Never seeing those icy blue eyes flare hot with desire. Never losing herself in his arms. Never delving into the secrets he carried around with him like Atlas carrying the world.

She couldn’t do it.

It was more than just the deadline bearing down on her. She couldn’t give James up. Not yet. Not until she absolutely had to.

*  *  *

Sloan drifted through the reception hall, a glass of white wine dangling from her fingers. She didn’t usually drink, but after the day with her mother, it was a necessary measure. She leaned against the wall, searching the people’s faces around her. Carrigan was back. She
knew
that. But she wouldn’t be able to breathe easy until she actually laid eyes on her sister.

She’s got to stop disappearing like this. Everyone worries so much, and it throws everything into chaos
.

The words fell flat, even in her head. The truth was she envied Carrigan her nights of freedom. They might be small in the grand scale of things, but they were more than Sloan could work up the courage to do for herself. Her only escape lay in the books populating the house’s library, and even those were cold comfort these days. Fantasy worlds were all well and good, but there always came the time when she had to put down the book and resume real life. She might face dragons and beautiful men and adventures beyond telling in those pages, but in her day-to-day life she was just a rabbit of a woman. Cillian used to tease her when they were little, saying she was afraid of her own shadow.

He’s not far off
. Bitterness clawed up her throat, the taste acid on her tongue. If she was braver, she would have taken Teague’s offer to get her away. But the sad truth was that she didn’t know who she was if she wasn’t Sloan O’Malley, fifth child of Seamus and Aileen O’Malley, obedient daughter and…boring. So incredibly boring.
I want more, I just don’t know what that
more
is.

But it was a waste of time and energy to rail at her situation, because the truth was that she wasn’t ever going to change. She’d do what her father wanted and, when the time came, she’d marry who he picked for her, slowly withering away like a flower on a vine. At least the flower had a second chance at life when spring came around.

Sloan didn’t.

“Hey, squirt. You’re looking awfully dark and down over here in the shadows.” Cillian leaned against the wall next to her. “Didn’t you know that Teague has the market cornered on brooding? You can’t take that away from him the night before his wedding.”

She looked over to where the brother in question stood in the middle of a group of people, grinning down at his wife like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
No one’s ever going to—Oh my God, Cillian’s right. I’m sitting over here, brooding
. She took a sip of her wine. “I was just thinking.”

“Thinking is all you ever do, squirt. You’ve got to get out in the world and live a little.”

She eyed his nearly empty drink—no doubt it wasn’t his first for the night. “I think you do enough living for both of us.”

“Not how it works.” He finished the pale amber liquid in his glass. “Life experience can’t be shared, not really. I could tell you stories…” He glanced at her. “Then again, you’re my little sister and I think those stories might burn your virgin ears.”

Heat crept up her neck and over her face. “There’s such a thing as too much information.”

“I couldn’t agree more. But my point stands—I could go out and do the craziest shit anyone’s ever seen, and it wouldn’t count any more in life experience for
you
than those books you like to read.”

She knew that. Lord, she knew that. But wishing for courage to do something else—something
wild
—with her life was a long way off from actually taking that first step to
do
it. Sloan might only be twenty-three, but she knew herself. She liked her quiet, safe, boring life. Maybe it wasn’t always
safe
safe, but if she put herself out in the world, there were no guarantees of even
that
. “I’ll take it into consideration.”

“No, you won’t.” He snorted. “You’re saying that because you think it’s what I want to hear, but in reality you’ll be holed up in that nook in the library with a book, reading about someone else’s adventures.” He seemed to realize how harsh he sounded, because he sent her an apologetic look. “Sorry, squirt. If you can’t tell already, I’m not exactly good company tonight.”

She could. One benefit to always standing in the shadows was that she saw more than the average person. She’d known the second she got back from Connecticut that something about Cillian had changed. He still pasted on the carefree attitude when he had to, but that wasn’t the man he was anymore. Devlin’s death had changed him, just like it’d changed them all. She reached out and squeezed his arm. “It’ll be okay.”

His smile was mirthless. “Well, hell, squirt. I never pegged you for a liar.”

Chapter Sixteen

J
ames spent the day in meetings. It was all shit he knew he’d been neglecting, but his talk with Lisa Marie had driven home just how many things he’d let slip through the cracks. It was time to change that. If he was going to run the Hallorans, he had to stop pussyfooting around and
run
it.

By the time he got back to the house, it was dark and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. But he was confident that there were no more nasty surprises lurking as a result of Ricky’s actions while James wasn’t paying attention. As for Ricky…

It was time to do something about that, too.

Ten days was long enough to let him stew. He needed to fix this. Now.

He checked his phone as he walked through the door. Nothing. Not that he’d expected Carrigan to call him. She’d made it pretty damn clear that she had a lot going on in the next few days, so there was no reason for the disappointment souring his stomach. He’d just spent the damn night with her. He couldn’t possibly miss her. But the thought of going another few days without seeing her again made the feeling in his stomach worse.

Pathetic
. He could almost hear his old man’s voice in his head, letting him know just what Victor Halloran thought of his son getting twisted up over a woman, let alone an O’Malley woman.
A distraction. That’s all she is. Nothing good will come of it
.

He bypassed the kitchen—no point in eating until he dealt with his brother—and made his way downstairs. It was eerily quiet in the basement, the silence broken only by the occasional sound of the house settling. Even though this place wasn’t old, it still had the feeling of something tired and exhausted, the history of too many bad memories weighing it down.

I’d like to light a match and leave it to burn
.

He unlocked the door to Ricky’s cell and walked in. His brother lounged on the rickety old bed, his head propped on his arms as he stared at the ceiling. “James.”

“Ricky.” He moved to lean against the wall opposite. Ricky didn’t look like a broken man, but then, this was the least of what their old man had put them through. His brother had nearly the same scars James did. He opened his mouth, and then reconsidered. There had to be a better way to do this—all of this. “What do you want?”

“Everything.” Ricky sat up. “But since that’s not on the table, I’d settle for you not treating me like your annoying kid brother and actually showing a little fucking respect.”

He had two options. He could leave his little brother down here to rot, secure in the knowledge that he wasn’t causing trouble. Or he could take a risk and see if a little more responsibility would be the thing to get Ricky on track. And it was a risk. But James was all too aware of the whispers that circulated among his men. Plenty of people weren’t happy that he was rolling with the peace talks instead of striking directly into the heart of the O’Malleys and Sheridans. If they thought he was locking away Ricky because he was scared of him, it would put James in a precarious place.

If he could somehow get his brother on the same page, it would kill multiple birds with one stone. Not that he was going to trust Ricky—the only reason his brother would suddenly have a change of heart is that he wanted something and had to go through James to get it.

But maybe he could channel that to his purposes.

“I’ll show you respect when you earn it.” He made a show of looking around the bare room. “Which you’re not going to do down here. Are you ready to man up and show you can take orders?”

Ricky narrowed his eyes. “You’re letting me out.”

“I’m willing to work with you,
if
you’re willing to obey.”

He seemed to think it over, but there was no masking the excitement in his eyes. Apparently his brother hated this room almost as much as James hated putting him down here. “What do you want me to do?”

Here was the crux. “You’re going to run protection duty on the border businesses. If you can manage that without starting shit with anyone, then we’ll talk.”

“How long?”

Long enough to make sure he was actually, genuinely wanting this to do right and not just playing James. “Until I say so.”

“Fine.” Ricky stood and held out his hand. “I’ll play soldier.”

James shook it, but he held on when his brother would have let go. “And, Ricky, stay the fuck away from Tit for Tat. Your shadow darkens that doorway, and a few days in this room will look like a goddamn paradise.”

He hesitated, and then gave a jerky nod. “Sure thing. I was done with the tired-ass tail that works there, anyway.”

Sure you were.
He couldn’t control his brother’s actions across the board, but he could at least make sure that the girls who looked to him for protection were actually
protected
. That thought brought him back to the shipment coming in soon. He expected the proprietors to be in touch within a few days, and then he’d have to decide once and for all what he was going to do about them.

I could do some good in this world. Maybe then I’d be able to keep myself from the slow, final slide into being the monster my father was
.

He kept coming back to Carrigan’s idea of a nonprofit. It wasn’t something he could do on his own, but he’d seen the way she lit up with excitement at the idea of running something like that. With her helming that side of things, he could do his part by sliding a portion of the girls into various jobs in Boston. They’d make a hell of a team.

Except we aren’t a team. She’s marrying someone else, and no man worth his shit is going to let her work with
me
on something like this.

“James?”

He blinked. From the tone of Ricky’s voice, he’d said his name a few times. “Yeah?”

“You won’t regret this.” He turned and walked out of the door without looking back.

Funny, but James was already regretting it. His brother was a loose cannon and he damn well knew it, but letting him out of this room was the lesser of two evils. He had to take a chance, no matter how much he didn’t like it. After a few minutes, he left the cell and made his way up to his room. Another glance at his phone showed just as few calls as it had last time. Carrigan was probably still at the rehearsal, or the dinner that had undoubtedly been thrown afterward. She wasn’t going to call.

He was damn fool for wanting her to.

Tomorrow was Teague’s wedding. He mulled that over while he showered, scrubbing down his body. He’d gotten an invite only as courtesy and he damn well knew it. They didn’t want him there. The strained friendship he and Teague had shared over the years had finally broken under the events of the last few months, and he didn’t blame the man for the desire to punch the shit out of James that was written all over his face every time they were forced to interact. Ironically, Callista Sheridan didn’t seem to hold his taking her captive against him.

But then, she had shot and killed his older brother. That kind of made it hard to stand on a pedestal.

He ducked under the shower spray, as if something as simple as water could wash away all his sins. Going to Teague’s wedding was asking for trouble—trouble he couldn’t afford. The peace between the three families was precarious at best, and doing something that might jeopardize it was the height of stupidity.

If he had a brain in his head, he’d leave town tomorrow and avoid the temptation the whole fiasco offered. James shut off the water, knowing damn well that he wasn’t going to do it. He craved the sight of Carrigan, and adding more distance between them, even for a limited time, wasn’t a goddamn option.

Fuck
. Looked like he was going to a wedding tomorrow.

*  *  *

Carrigan didn’t cry. Especially at weddings. Especially at weddings whose planning had been a giant pain in her ass for the last few months and had been arranged by her parents.