The Wedding Pact (The O'Malleys #2) (34 page)

“I don’t have a choice.” Michael motioned him away from the van. “If it’s any consolation, after the last few weeks, I wouldn’t have chosen this.”

“Well, shit, Michael. Since you’re obviously not going to let sentiment stop you from shooting me in the fucking back, it’s not much of a consolation at all.” He moved slowly. “I hope they’re paying you well, whoever the fuck they are, because you’re going to die for them.” He wasn’t going down without a fight. He had too goddamn much to live for.
Carrigan
. He loved the woman and if he died, she’d end up married to that Russian and fading away as the years passed. James couldn’t stand the thought of the wildness that he loved so much in her dying any more than he could stand the thought of another man’s ring on her finger.

He watched Michael closely. “Want to tell me who bought you off? I’ll have to send them something nice as a thank-you gift.”

The man’s hand shook, and he brought his second one up to the grip of the gun to steady it. “I tried to change my mind, James. I told that Russian bastard I couldn’t do it. But it’s you or me now. No one crosses Dmitri Romanov.”

Dmitri Romanov. There was that fucking name again.

Where’s Carrigan now? Is she with him?
There were no innocents in their lifestyles, but there was also a huge gap between the families in Boston and the kind of shady shit Romanov was pulling right now, turning his best man against him. Carrigan had never been one to color inside the lines—it was only a matter of time before she did something to piss Romanov off. And then…

I’ve got to live so I can get her out of there
.

“I’m not usually down with killing fools, but for you, Michael, I’ll make an exception.”

“I wouldn’t.” The apology was gone from Michael’s voice. “He sent me to make sure this goes off without a hitch. Even if you take me out, it won’t do a damn bit of good.”

God
damn
it. James looked around, but all he could see where shadows. “Where?”

“Like I’m telling you that.” A pop of gunfire sounded in the distance. Michael half turned. “What the—?”

James
moved
. He tackled the other man, shoving his arms over his head as they went down. He was vaguely aware of more gunfire in the distance, but he was too busy trying not to get shot by the little weasel to worry about it. After he got over his initial surprise at the attack, Michael fought like a man possessed. He let go of the gun and punched James in the side, stealing his breath, and then went for his eyes.

There was no finesse. James grabbed his throat and slammed his head back into the ground, but it only stunned Michael for a second and then he was attacking again, rolling James beneath him and rearing back to get some force into his hits. A sizzling sound broke through, and he suddenly started spasming, his eyes rolling back in his head. He slumped to the side, revealing a woman standing behind him.

Carrigan
.

*  *  *

Carrigan saw the blood on James’s face and pulled the trigger on the Taser to deliver another devastating bolt of electricity to the little shit on the ground. She held the button down, wishing it was something more permanent. And then James was there, pulling her away from the man and into his arms. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving your ass.” She clung to him, trying to process the fact that they hadn’t been too late. He was okay. A little bruised and bloodied, but he was alive. “God, I was so worried about you.”

The only warning she got was his arms tightening around her, and then James dragged her to the ground. Gunfire sounded, too close. She twisted around but, pinned between the ground and his body, she couldn’t see anything. “What’s happening?” She smacked his chest. “Get off me.”

“Not yet.” He did lift up a little so she could breathe. “You didn’t come alone?”

“No. I have Teague and Cillian and some of the Sheridan men with us.”
My brothers
. She rolled over, and squirmed to get out from beneath him. “I need to get to my brothers.”

James kept her pinned easily, and he’d pulled a gun from somewhere. Their position left their right side shielded by the van, but they were seriously exposed out here. He must have been thinking the same thing because he wrestled his free arm beneath her and started hauling her back toward the vehicle. “We’re getting the fuck out of here.”

She wanted him safe, but she was still hearing gunshots. “My brothers are out there.” And so was Callie.
If something happens to one of them because of me…
She hadn’t thought of the cost when she’d argued and bullied them into coming with her. All she’d been thinking of was how desolate her world would be without James in it. She struggled harder. “Let me go.” This was a mistake and not a mistake and, oh God, she needed to do
something
.

He climbed to his feet, taking her with him. “Where are they?”

She pointed at the approximate place she’d left her group. They’d been moving slowly, but she’d slipped away, determined to get to James before it was too late.
Stupid, selfish bitch
. “Around that building.”

“I’ll go.” He opened the passenger door and shoved her in before she could protest. When she tried to climb out, he stopped her with a hand on her chest. “Carrigan, there are twenty terrified women in the back of this van. We can’t leave them.”

We
. She stopped fighting him, her breath coming too fast. “I love you.”

“I know.” He kissed her, quick and brutal. “There’s a gun underneath the seat and the keys are in the ignition. If I’m not back in ten minutes, you get the fuck out of here.” He slammed the door before she could respond, leaving her with only the sound of her heart pounding and her harsh breathing.

Stay safe while everyone around her put themselves in danger?
No fucking way
. She scrambled over to the driver’s seat and cranked on the engine. She couldn’t just sit here and hope for the best. She had to
do
something. Carrigan froze when someone wailed in the back portion of the van.
This is about more than me
. She turned and muscled open the window panel looking back into the rest of the vehicle…and promptly stopped breathing. There were so many women back there, she couldn’t even start to count them. Several of them were crying.
Oh God
.

If she hauled ass after James, someone could shoot the van. If it was just her, she wouldn’t think twice about making that choice. But if she got some of these women killed because she couldn’t take orders…Carrigan gritted her teeth.
Ten minutes. I can wait ten minutes
. She tried to make her voice as reassuring as possible, “It’s okay. You’re safe now.” They wouldn’t believe her—if she was in their position,
she
wouldn’t believe her—but she repeated the words all the same. “You’re safe. Just hang in there for a little longer.”

Then she turned around and settled down to wait, her gaze on the clock in the dashboard.

*  *  *

James moved through the snow, his gun cold in his hand. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that Carrigan was
here
, and she’d brought reinforcements. God, he loved the fuck out of that woman.

He followed the sound of gunfire, skirting the edge of a warehouse. The weather made it hard to see more than a few feet in front of him, and he was doubly glad he left Carrigan back at the van. She’d keep the women safe—and herself safe in the process.

A man stumbled out of the darkness and went to his knees. James didn’t rush forward immediately, checking the surrounding area to make sure he was alone. It was only when he stalked closer than he saw it was Carrigan’s younger brother—the one with the fancy duds and tattoos. Cillian. He clutched his side, rolling onto his back with a harsh gasp that told James he was hurt, and hurt badly.

He went to his knees next to the man and spoke softly. “Cillian.”

“Halloran.” He cracked open his eyes. “Karma is a bitch, isn’t it?”

James didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about, but he patted the man down, constantly scanning the surrounding area. The not-so-distant sound of gunfire hadn’t stopped, and it was only a matter of time before someone saw the blood trail Cillian had left behind and came to investigate. He touched the man’s shoulder and cursed softly when his hand came away wet. “Kid, I think you’re shot.”

“That’s…what I meant about karma.”

Fuck
. “You’re not dying on my watch.” There hadn’t been a damn thing he could do to stop his men from killing Carrigan’s other brother. But he
could
do something about this one. She’d already suffered enough. He shrugged out of his coat and yanked off his shirt, wadding it up and pressing it against Cillian’s bleeding shoulder hard enough to make the other man hiss. “Hold this.” He put his hands over the shirt and sat back, taking precious seconds to pull his coat back on.

A voice sounded close—too close. “I think he went this way.”

“Let’s get the little bastard.”

If their Russian accents weren’t enough to go by, their words would have been. James sent a silent prayer of thanks to the weather gods for the cover the snow offered. If it weren’t for that, he’d be a sitting duck right here next to this wall.

Two figures melted out of the gloom. One of them must have seen him because they cursed in what he figured was Russian. That was all he needed to know. He sighted down his gun and fired once, twice, a third time, dropping them both. His finger hovered on the trigger as a third man appeared, but the guy held up his hands. “Not one of Romanov’s men.”

Teague
. James set his gun aside. “Get your ass over here. Your brother’s been shot.” The man had passed out sometime in the last fifteen seconds, and the light coating of snow on the ground around his shoulder was stained red.
Goddamn it.

Instantly, Teague was by his side. He probed beneath the shirt, his face a mask of concentration. “I’m not medic, but I think it’s a through-and-through.”

Which was good on one hand, because it meant the bullet wasn’t going to shift and do more damage, but it also didn’t take into account the damage
already
done. He put a bit more weight onto Cillian’s shoulder. “Call your people in. We need to get him to the hospital.”

“My sister?”

“Safe. She’s back that way.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the van. “The rest of Romanov’s men?”

“These were the last of them.” He put the phone to his ear. “Callie? Round up the boys. Cillian’s been shot. We’ll meet you at the entrance of the docks.” He hung up.

When he moved to take Cillian, James shook his head. “I got him. You guys were here to help me out. My responsibility.”

Teague gave a jerky nod and let James carefully scoop his brother up. It was hard to tell how bad the bleeding was in the darkness, or if it’d slowed at all, but the faster they got moving the better. “Watch my back.”

“I will.”

James turned and started for the van, willing the man in his arms to live, willing Carrigan to be safe when they got back, willing them to get through this night without yet another loss in the O’Malley family.

They found Carrigan exactly where he’d left her. She jumped out of the van and rushed to his side. “Cillian?”

“He’s going to be okay.” He hoped like hell he wasn’t lying to her. “Get back in the van. We’re going to meet your people at the entrance of the docks.”

It took mere seconds to get them loaded up, and he put Cillian down across the backseat, his head in his sister’s lap. Then James slammed the door and moved around to the driver’s side. He looked over the hood at Teague. “I owe you.”

“You owe my sister. None of this would have happened without her.”

Without her, James might be dead right now.

He climbed behind the wheel and threw the vehicle into gear. Two minutes later, they were off-loading Cillian into a plain black SUV. Carrigan reached for the door and stopped. “James—”

“Go with your brother, lovely. I have a few things I have to take care of.” Michael and Ricky were back in the docks, and he wasn’t about to leave those two fucks behind. He hooked the back of her neck and drew her in for a quick kiss. “Don’t worry. You haven’t seen the last of me.”

“Good.” With that one last word, she climbed into the SUV and was gone.

*  *  *

The ride to the hospital was a blur, but it was more than enough time for Carrigan to wade through past nightmares. Of standing next to Teague’s bedside and wondering if he’d live after he’d been so badly beaten, of wondering if there was something she could have done to save him. To save Devlin. Guilt was a funny thing sometimes. Rationally, she knew there was plenty of blame to go around, but she’d been all too willing to take more than her fair share.

This time, it really
was
her fault.