The Wedding Pact (The O'Malleys #2) (27 page)

“James.” Her voice was so broken, so unlike her, that he froze. “James, I need you. Now.”

He didn’t stop to think or question. He grabbed his jacket and keys from the rack by the door and hit the sidewalk at a run. “I’m on my way. Tell me where.” This was different from the last time she’d called him. She’d been upset then. But this sounded so much worse. “Did someone hurt you?”

She laughed, a jagged wet sound. “Not how you mean.” She rattled off an address.

He did some quick mental calculations. “I can be there in fifteen minutes.” He’d have to break a few traffic laws to pull it off, but he’d manage.

“Okay…thank you.”

“Hang in there, lovely. I’m coming.” He slid into the driver’s seat of a black Beemer that he kept for times when he didn’t want to draw attention to himself, and dropped his phone next to him so if she called again, he wouldn’t miss it. Then he floored it.

He made the trip in ten minutes. The address was a little coffee shop in Mission Hill. James pulled up outside, but there was nothing that he could see to raise any red flags. Since Carrigan didn’t fly out the door and throw herself into his car, he parked and walked inside. The street was technically O’Malley territory, but since it bordered the southwestern outskirts of where they did business, it didn’t get the kind of attention it would if it were on the boundary bumping up again Sheridan or Halloran space. That didn’t mean he went in relaxed, though. Something was wrong with Carrigan—
seriously
wrong.

It could be a trap
.

Didn’t matter. She needed him and so he was here. He’d promised her he would be, and nothing that had happened between them had changed that fact. A quick survey of the place found it empty except for a two-person table in the back corner where Carrigan sat hunched over, her hands cupped around a giant mug. He dropped into the seat across from her, categorizing everything he saw. There were dark circles beneath her eyes and her hands shook on the mug, but she looked okay. He knew better than most that it didn’t mean she was
actually
okay, though. “What happened?”

She started, as if she’d been so lost in thought, she hadn’t realized he was there. Her green eyes were full of shadows. “Do you know Dmitri Romanov?”

The name wasn’t familiar. But all that meant was that James had never worked with the man personally. “No.”

“I’m going to marry him.”

Every cell in his being rejected the words. “
No
.” He took a deep breath and forced the anger out of his voice. “If this is about the wedding—”

“It’s not. I’d already decided before what happened that I’d marry Dmitri. This just expedited things.”

She’d already decided on a husband and hadn’t told him. It shouldn’t surprise him—he knew her father had given her a list, and he knew she was working through it—but knowing she was dating these guys and hearing her say she was going to marry one of them were two completely different things. “Carrigan.”

“I don’t have a choice. You know that. I know that. Hell, everyone in Boston knows that. It was nice to pretend maybe things could be different, but…”

He didn’t like this new side of her. Up to this point, every time he interacted with her, she’d been a spitfire and so full of life she made him feel like maybe they could exist in this reality without being broken. Something had happened in the last forty-eight hours to change that, and his fists clenched with the need to destroy it. “What happened? Is this because of your brother?”

“No. Well, sort of.” She huddled the coffee closer. “He said I needed to chose and get it over with, and God knows I can’t choose
you
.”

Would
she choose him if she could?

Before he could ask, she moved on, “Dmitri was the best choice. The only choice, really. And I should be grateful that he doesn’t play games.”

She didn’t sound grateful. She sounded hopeless. “Who is this guy?”

“He runs some kind of business down in New York. I don’t really know, but for him to be on my father’s list, he’s not a good man.” She made a face. “Though I knew that thirty seconds after meeting him. He’s a shark.”

And she was going to marry him. James tried to keep his voice even, but it was damn near impossible. “Is he the reason you’re like this?”

She didn’t answer directly. “This thing between us is over, James. It has to be. I just wanted to say good-bye.”

*  *  *

Carrigan watched the emotions play over James’s face before they settled into one she was familiar with—rage. He sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Explain.”

This wasn’t going how she’d planned. Hell, she hadn’t had much of a plan when she walked out of the restaurant an hour ago. All she’d known was that Dmitri had threatened James, and every instinct she had told her that he was a man who didn’t bluff. If she didn’t cut things off immediately, he’d kill James. It was worse than the threat of war with her family or anything her brothers could bring to bear against Halloran. It was straight-out assassination.

She’d do whatever it took to keep that from happening.

So she forced her spine straight and her shoulders back. “This has been fun—”

“
Fun
.”

“—but we both knew it could never go anywhere.” It wasn’t in the cards for them, no matter how much her heart cried out for him.

“You’re a goddamn liar.” He suddenly leaned forward and wrapped his hands around hers, pinning her between the mug and his skin. “You want this. You want
me
.”

Yes!
She pressed her lips together. “You’re not listening to me.”

“Yes, I am. You’re saying that things are over, and it sure as fuck sounds like your brother’s words coming out of your mouth when you do.” He stood, yanking her half out of her seat and nearly spilling her coffee in the process. “Come with me.”

It was a mistake. If she went with him now, she’d be putting him in danger. She might be signing his goddamn death warrant. “You don’t understand…”

He took the mug out of her hands and set it on the table. “You still want me.”

Of course she did. She was starting to suspect she’d want this man for the rest of her life and beyond. “That has nothing to do with anything.”

“It has everything to do with everything.” He pulled her closer, inch by inch, until there was barely a breath of distance between them. “I can’t let you go, lovely. I
won’t
. Come away with me tonight. We’ll figure things out, and the world will look better tomorrow.”

He was wrong. He was so wrong it wasn’t even funny. Even if tonight was the most perfect a night could be, nothing would be different tomorrow. It was a lesson Carrigan had learned all too well over the years. But if she had to give him up forever, who would blame her for taking one more night before she had to say good-bye? She looked away. She knew who would.
Dmitri
. He wouldn’t be forgiving. “It’s too risky.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take. Are you?”

He didn’t know what was at stake. But, looking up into his eyes, she realized that maybe she was wrong. James might not know the dirty details about Dmitri and his threats, but he didn’t live a life free of danger. Death could come for them any day. It was still a risk, and a stupid one at that, but she found herself nodding all the same.
I can’t say no to this man. I don’t ever want to
. “Just tonight.”

“We’ll get this figured out.” He kept a hold of her hand as he led her from the coffee shop to where he’d parked a black car she didn’t recognize, and then held her door while she climbed in.

She typed out a quick text to Liam.
With James. I promise I’ll keep my phone on
. It dinged almost as soon as she’d pushed send.

Where?

Carrigan hesitated. What if Liam told her brothers? But then she remembered how things had played out before—he wouldn’t betray her. He just wanted to keep her safe. She glanced at James. “Where are you taking me?”

He eyed the phone in her hand. “The beach house.”

York. Blue house on the ocean drive.
She set the phone aside. She’d kept her promise—at least one of them. “Okay.”

“Anything I should be worried about?”

“No.” She hoped. She seemed to be doing a lot of hoping these days. But as James reached over and took her hand, she let her worry go. It would still be there tomorrow. God knew she couldn’t escape her problems as easily as she and James could escape Boston’s city limits.

She could feel James’s questions crowding the space between them, but he kept his silence as they drove north. It left her too much opportunity to go over the last forty-eight hours. So much had changed, and yet nothing at all. Saturday James had still been forbidden, even if her family didn’t know about their relationship. She’d been considering marrying Dmitri, though he hadn’t gotten into the heavy-handed tactics yet. And she’d still wanted James more than anything else in the world.

She was just as conflicted now as she had been then, with just as few places to turn for help. Add it all up, and Carrigan couldn’t shake the truth—no matter which way she turned, she was destined for a life of misery and loss.

Chapter Twenty

J
ames parked in almost the exact same spot he had five days ago, and turned the Beemer off. “We’re going to talk about it.” He still didn’t know what the hell was going on to put the bone-deep fear into Carrigan, but he fully planned on finding out. She said no one had touched her, and he believed it. But he also knew far too well how to hurt someone without ever laying a finger on them.

She’d agreed to come to the beach house. It was a start.

He got out and opened her door for her. A car pulled up behind them, a dark sedan with a man in the driver’s seat. She glanced over. “It’s Liam. I promised.”

As much as he didn’t like the idea of O’Malley’s man knowing that this place existed—let alone where it was—he nodded. It was the price of getting her here, and he would gladly pay it. “Come on.” He guided her across the street with a hand on the small of her back. That little touch grounded him.
She’s here. We will figure this out
. He knew better, but he couldn’t kill the hope in the back of his mind.

After locking the door and closing the shades, he turned to her. “Lovely, I—”

“Not tonight.” She stepped into his arms, and he automatically put them around her. He couldn’t get over how
right
this was—how right
Carrigan
was. She made him feel ten feet tall, like he could do whatever it took to make things right—like nothing was impossible.

“I want to know what’s got you so worked up.”

“And I don’t want to talk about it. Please, James.” She looked up, her red lips kissably close. “Please just give me tonight. The only time I really feel safe is when I’m with you.”

The words were a balm to his soul, chasing away the shadows that he thought had taken up permanent residence. It would be easy, so fucking easy, to give her exactly what she wanted and soak up this feeling. But it was a Band-Aid. He’d gone through the same motions enough times to recognize it for what it was. So he framed her face with his hands and kissed her forehead. There had to be some way to balance this. “We don’t have to talk about what spooked you tonight. But we are going to talk.”

Tension worked its way into her body, and he resented its presence. She twisted the hem of his shirt between nervous fingers. “Talk about what?”

“Whatever you want.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he fought against the instinctive urge to take them back. There were things he’d done—things he’d seen—that he never wanted to drag out of the darkness where he’d put them. But he would for Carrigan.

He knew the second her expression went tight where she’d go—straight for the heart. “Your scars.”

Fuck
. He took a step back, needing some distance between them and a strong fucking drink. “Drink?”

“Sure.” She sat on the couch and crossed her long legs, watching him. It struck him that she expected to get what she wanted. She knew damn well that he’d rather walk barefoot over burning coals than bring up these ugly memories, and she was betting on him letting her have her way tonight instead of getting into those memories.
Well, tough shit
.

If it were anyone else, they’d be right. But this wasn’t anyone else. This woman made him feel things he’d thought were long dead and gone, and he wasn’t going to shy away from an ugly experience if it meant he was hurdling over the last of her barriers. She trusted him. She’d come to him time and again when she was in trouble or upset. He’d told her about his mother—something he talked about even less than he talked about his scars. He could tell her this, too.

James found whiskey in the upper cabinet and poured himself a healthy dose in a cup. Then he grabbed the gin and vermouth from the lower cabinet and put together her martini. Once it was done, there was nothing left to stall with, but he felt as centered as he was going to be for this conversation. He set her drink on the coffee table and took the other side of the couch. “Fine, lovely. I’ll bare my soul for you—but these things go both ways.”