The Wedding Pact (The O'Malleys #2) (33 page)

“Sure you do.” Her mouth tightened.

“You know, I might not be the most charming guy around, but I’ve never had a woman decide she despises me at first sight like you apparently have.” And if he was going to be coming in here like he normally did, being hated by a bartender that Benji obviously adored was going to be seriously uncomfortable. He put his best smile on. “If you let me know what I did to piss you off, I’ll do what I can to avoid it in the future.”

If anything, her expression only got more annoyed. “You’re right. You’re not charming.”

He sat back. “That wasn’t an answer.”

“Maybe I just don’t like the look of you.” She waved a hand to encompass all of him. “With your fancy haircut, expensive suit, and I’m-a-bad-boy tattoos. You’re the kind of man who thinks he owns the world.”

Cillian snorted. “Hardly.”

“I know your type.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter if you agree with me or not. If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it’s most likely a duck. And I’d bet my last dollar that you’re a duck.”

His phone rang, saving him from coming up with a response to her absurd assumption.
Or is it really that absurd? You’re trouble and you know it. If she’s smart enough to recognize it on sight and avoid it, who the fuck are you to blame her for it?
He pulled out his phone and frowned when he saw Teague’s number. “Hey.”

“Where are you?”

“Beacon Hill.” He wasn’t about to tell Teague he was in the same bar they’d been in the night Devlin died. He wouldn’t understand. Worse, maybe he actually would.

“Carrigan’s in trouble.”

He bit back the instinctive response to throw her whatever-the-fuck-it-was with James Halloran in his brother’s face. Hadn’t Cillian just been thinking that she didn’t deserve to be passed off to the Russian when it seemed like Halloran really had feelings for her? “What kind of trouble?”

“The kind where she’s in over her head enough to call for help.”

Considering their sister had never hesitated to take care of her own problems, that meant something bad. He straightened. He might not like the idea of her with Halloran, but she was still his big sister. There was no going back in time and saving Devlin, but if he could help Carrigan, then maybe that would do something to start to balance his karmic debt. “When and where do you need me?”

“My apartment, and as soon as you can get there.”

He was already reaching into his pocket for his cash. “Consider it done.” He hung up to find the pretty bartender watching him, a frown on her face. “Careful there, you frown like that often enough and your face is going to stick in that expression.” He tossed the money on the bar and walked away, the sound of her sputtering behind him making him smile despite the clusterfuck he was most likely walking into.

When life was going to hell around him, sometimes it was all about finding pleasure in the small things.

*  *  *

“Tell me again.”

Carrigan bit back her impatience. “I already told you twice. Dmitri is planning on killing James. You have to call him and warn him.”

Teague ran his hands through his hair. “I did. Five times. He’s not answering.”

She knew that. God, of course she knew that. It didn’t stop the panic from hurtling through her, growing stronger with each minute that passed. Where was James now? Had this Michael already done his work, and was the love of her life even now bleeding out in some back alley? She dug her nails into her palm, trying to keep control of herself. “Then we need to find out where he is and go to him.”

Her brother shot her a look. “Easier said than done.”

“You have connections.
Use
them.” She’d never felt so helpless in her life. Not when she was shipped off to Connecticut for supposedly her own good. Not when her father basically sold her into a marriage she didn’t want. Not even when Devlin died. James was in trouble and she was stuck here in Teague’s apartment, pacing the increasingly small space and throwing shitty ideas at the wall.

She bet Aiden knew where James was. He always seemed to know everything. But he wasn’t someone she could call in for help and know without a shadow of a doubt that he’d help her instead of hauling her back to Dmitri. He didn’t approve of James, and she couldn’t risk him working against her instead of with her.

Callie came out of the back room, the phone to her ear. “Thank you, Micah. You’re a lifesaver.” She hung up. “The Hallorans have a meet up with a flesh trader tonight down at the docks. I can’t confirm that James will be there, but if he’s not answering his phone, it’s a safe bet.”

He’d been serious when he asked her the other day about freeing women from the slave trade. She’d wondered but…
It doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is getting to him and making sure he’s safe
.

And if she put a bullet into this Michael in the process, she wouldn’t cry herself to sleep at night over it.

She started for the door, but Teague blocked her way. “No.”

“We know where he is. We have to go now, before it’s too late.”

“If you think for a second that I’m taking my sister and my wife into a meeting with two enemies, you’re out of your mind.” His gaze jumped from her face to Callie’s and back again. “We’re not rushing into anything.”

She eyed the door, but even if she got past Teague, what was she going to do? She needed help, no matter how much the delay had her in danger of tearing her hair out in frustration. “You have a plan? Then let’s hear it.”

“We need backup.”

The last thing she wanted to hear. Carrigan threw up her hands. “Who are we going to call? There isn’t a single member of our family that would help with this. Every one of them would be willing to let James burn if it meant they wouldn’t have a Halloran at their back.” Or with her.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

As if on cue, the door behind him opened and Cillian walked through, Liam at his back. Her younger brother raised his eyebrows at her shock. “I don’t like that bastard, but even I can see that he’s head over heels for you. And if the Russian is willing to take out one of the three main players in Boston, there’s nothing to stop him from trying the same shit with us whenever he feels like it.”

Nothing except Carrigan marrying him. But he’d already proven he wouldn’t keep his word if it didn’t suit him. He’d had James’s death planned from the beginning, regardless of what he’d promised her. She swallowed hard. “I appreciate this. From both of you.”

Liam came to stand next to her. “I’ve been doing whatever it took to keep you out of trouble for years. I’d be a heartless monster to stop now.”

She smiled her thanks and turned her attention back to Teague. “I’m all for backup, but do you really think two people will be enough to turn the tide?”

“No.” It was Callie who answered. “That’s why Micah and a group of my men will be meeting us there.”

She realized what the goal was—to keep as many O’Malley people out of the mess as possible—and nodded. “Then I’m going to need more Taser cartridges.” The Sheridans were now more stable than either of the other families in Boston. They couldn’t care less if she married a Halloran, since all it would mean was that Boston would become stronger as a whole for the new alliance. If only her family could see things that way.

That was a battle for another day.

Right now all that mattered was making sure James lived to see the dawn.

Chapter Twenty-Four

J
ames breathed in the briny air and wished he was anywhere but here. The docks after dark had always set his teeth on edge. There were too many shadows and places to set up an ambush. That was why he’d sent Michael and a few handpicked men in earlier—to make sure things went off without a hitch. It didn’t help that it had started to snow a few minutes ago, the flakes quickly creating a curtain that further obscured his vision.

The van sat behind him, ready for its cargo. He kept reminding himself that these women would get a chance at a different life, but it didn’t do a damn thing to make him feel better. It was entirely too possible—likely, even—that they’d already seen abuse he could only imagine. That kind of thing left a mark on a person’s soul that a Band-Aid couldn’t touch.

But he could do his part to put them back on the path to freedom. It wasn’t enough, but he wasn’t a fucking superhero.

Ricky wandered around the van, whistling tonelessly. James wanted to tell him to shut the fuck up, but that meant admitting that it bugged him to begin with. His brother was still on his best behavior, which only made his paranoia increase with each passing hour.

He turned and watched the water, searching for the lights of the boat. He should have known better. When it came, it slipped through the snowfall soundlessly without a single beam to announce its presence. Several men jumped to the dock and tied it off, and then one broke away from the rest to approach. “You have the payment.”

James gestured to the bag at his feet. “The product?”

The man unzipped the bag and rifled through it before nodding. He whistled and made a sharp motion. The men spoke quietly, and then one of them grabbed a stumbling form and guided her down the dock to the van where Ricky waited. James caught a glimpse of her haggard face, eyes vacant, and had to fight back a shudder. Every single woman who passed him had that same expression on their face. He caught the man’s eye and jerked his chin. “Explain.”

“Opium.” The man shrugged. “They got riled up halfway through, so we did what we had to do. Shouldn’t be permanent damage.”

Questions pressed him. How long had they been in a forced opium-induced haze? When was the last time they ate? Drank? This man didn’t care, and James wouldn’t win himself any points for acting too concerned. He’d already decided that this wouldn’t be the last batch of women he purchased, and he needed the seller to be willing to work with him again. That meant not rocking the boat.
Yet
. As the last girl—twenty total—walked past him, he nodded. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

“Likewise.”

He waited for the men to climb aboard the boat and cast off before he made his way back to the van. The women huddled in the back, piled in like sardines. He started to reach for some kind of comforting bullshit to say, but they shrank from him as a single unit when his shadow darkened the door.
Fuck
. There wasn’t a damn thing he could say that they’d believe, and trying would only scare the shit out of them. He slammed the door shut. Lisa Marie would know the right way to go about this.

Carrigan would know what to do with them. She’s the one who had that idea for the nonprofit. I bet she’s got more ideas
. He pushed the thought away. There hadn’t been time to figure out what the fuck he was going to do when it came to her. Letting her go wasn’t an option, not when he knew she cared about him. She wouldn’t have acted the way she did before if that wasn’t true.
Keep your head in the game, Halloran. Now isn’t the time to get distracted
.

He turned, and caught sight of the shiny barrel of the gun his brother held. James froze.
That little motherfucker
. “Ricky.”

“Sorry about this.” His brother laughed. “Actually, no I’m not. You’re a pussy, just like our old man always said you were. So I’m taking the Hallorans.”

Jesus Christ
. He eyed the gun. His brother had made sure he was out of easy reach so he’d be able to pull the trigger before James could get to him. Smart. His own gun was in a holster around his ankle, also out of easy reach. Less smart. Damn it, he should have expected this. “Why don’t we talk about this?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Ricky’s eyes were too wide. “You didn’t really think I’d let you lock me up for a fucking week, did you? You’re shit, and everyone but you sees it.
I’m
the one who deserves to run the Hallorans.” He motioned with the gun. “Get in the back.”

Like fuck was he going to get in the van and let his little brother drive him to somewhere more private, or whatever the hell he had in mind.
If I hadn’t been obsessing about Carrigan…
James shook his head. “Not going to happen.”

“What’s going on here?”

James didn’t take his attention off his little brother as Michael approached. “Just a little familial disagreement.” With the other man, they’d be two on one against Ricky. He glanced at his second in command. “Ricky’s feeling a little overtired.”

“I have a fucking gun! You should be pissing your pants! Not making goddamn motherfucking jokes!” He waved the pistol. He never saw Michael move, slamming his own gun across the back of his head and dropping him.

James sighed. “He’s a problem.”

“He’s not the only one.”

He glanced up. It took his mind far too long to process the change in Michael. The man stood straight and held his gun pointed
at James
. He slowly held up his hands, trying to calculate his chances of dropping to the ground and getting his gun from his ankle before Michael shot him. They weren’t great. “Think about this.”