The Wedding Pact (The O'Malleys #2) (8 page)

Ricky shut the door and dropped into one of the vacated chairs. “I was taking initiative.”

“You were trying to undermine me.”
Again
. He couldn’t let this go on any longer. He’d tried to reasoning with Ricky. He’d tried intimidating. He’d tried damn near everything. Nothing worked. Every time he turned around, his brother was doing something else to sow dissent and fuck up James’s life. The longer he let it go on, the weaker his position became.

God damn you for making me do this
.

James typed out a text, never taking his gaze off his brother. “You know what happens next.”

Ricky’s blue eyes, so similar to his, went wide. “James—”

“Don’t you dare play the fucking innocent. You knew what you were doing—deal with the consequences.” The door opened again, and this time Michael and Jake came through, one of the other men James was reasonably sure of. They hauled Ricky out of his chair, and out of the room. To his credit, he didn’t yell or fight.

But the look he sent James made him cold right down to his bones.

He’d known his brother hated him. He hadn’t wanted to admit it, but he’d known all the same. It was a truth he’d made as much peace as he could with. Now he had to deal with Ricky blatantly wanting him dead.

Well, fuck
.

He waited for the door to close and then slumped into his chair. He’d known this shit wasn’t going to be a picnic from the moment he lost Brendan. Being heir was never something James wanted, but he’d done his damnedest to step up and do right by the family. Naive as it apparently was, he’d never expected his remaining brother to turn on him.

Truth be told, he hadn’t expected a lot of things.

He sighed. As much as he wanted to get the hell out of here and wash off the stench of this place, since he
was
here, he needed to check in with the manager and make sure things were still going smoothly. He hadn’t heard anything recently, but he was learning the hard way that just because information didn’t come directly to him didn’t mean it wasn’t happening. And Ricky taking an interest in Tit for Tat was a red flag he couldn’t ignore.

A quick phone call brought Lisa Marie up. She was an old battle-ax who had worked her way up from waitressing to the pole to running the whole damn place. She had to have put sixty in the rearview mirror years ago, but she hadn’t missed a beat. As he watched, she snubbed out a cigarette and lit up another one. “Whatcha need, honey?”

“I haven’t been in here in a few weeks. Bring me up to date.”

“You want to know what that brother of yours is up to.” Her shrewd gray eyes saw too much. “He’s been in here five days out of seven, sniffing around. He takes over the office and has people coming and going. Don’t know what he’s up to, but I’d bet my left tit he’s up to something.” She exhaled a plume of smoke. “The little shit told me we’re starting up with those girls again.”

“We’re not.”

“Good. Made
my
girls nervous.” She tapped the cigarette into the ashtray on the desk. “Ever since that other brother of yours died—God rest his soul—business is up fifteen percent.”

Probably because Brendan scared the living shit out of everyone smart enough to know what trouble looked like. It kept those men and their money away from Tit for Tat. James tapped his fingers on the desk. Ricky seemed all too ready to step into Brendan’s shoes, and that was something he couldn’t allow. Like it or not, they’d taken a hit when he put a stop to the flesh trade. They needed the bump of legit money. “Are the other clubs seeing the same increase?”

“More or less.” She leaned back and crossed her legs, stick thin and covered in pants made of something like spandex. “Having willing girls makes a difference. Johns can tell. And the ones who liked the fear…well, I don’t want to deal with that shit.”

Neither did James. He waited, seeing from the tension in her shoulders that there was something more. People didn’t like silences, especially uncomfortable ones like this was quickly evolving into. Lisa Marie knew the tactic—it was one he’d seen her use before—and she gave him a sardonic smile. “You’re not a puppy anymore, James Halloran.”

Maybe not, but he still felt like a small fish in an ocean full of sharks. Every time he turned around, another threat was rising at his back. It was fucking exhausting. Still, he waited.

She sighed, smoke drifting out of her nostrils. “That Ricky…”

The seconds stretched into minutes. Finally, he relented. “Tell me.”

“I know he’s family.”

Her sudden hesitance set his teeth on edge. “If there’s something I need to know, spit it the fuck out.”

That
got her moving again. She snubbed out her cigarette. “He’s been taking a family discount with the girls—and them saying yes isn’t necessary.”

Her words left him cold all over.
Fuck, fuck, fuck
. He kept all expression off his face through sheer force of will, but it was a battle. He’d known his little brother was teetering on the edge, but apparently he’d already reached the point of no return.
Fuck
. And James had sat idly by while his brother played fox in the henhouse. It didn’t matter if he hadn’t known. Those women were under his protection, same as every other person in Halloran territory.

And he’d failed them.

“I’ll need a list of names.” His voice was so cold, it was a wonder the bottle of beer in front of him didn’t ice over.

“Sure thing.”

“That’s all.” He waited until she was almost to the door to say, “And, Lisa Marie.”

“Yeah, honey?”

“My brother is no longer allowed in this club—or any of the ones in Halloran territory.” He couldn’t let this go on unchecked. Ricky wasn’t trustworthy, and James wasn’t about to let his brother near people they were supposed to be protecting until he could be sure he wouldn’t have to protect them from
Ricky
.

She fumbled a new cigarette out of her pack, cursing when it fell to the faded carpet. “But—”

“It’s not open for discussion. Inform the bouncers. If he gives you trouble, you call me, you understand?”

“I understand.” She scooped up the cigarette and fled the room, shutting the door softly behind her.

Goddamn it. He hated playing the monster. The more often he put on the mask, the less like a mask it felt. Making Lisa Marie scurry from the room left a bad taste in his mouth. No one seemed to notice or care that he was trying to do the right thing. That knowledge shouldn’t surprise him, and it sure as hell shouldn’t sting.

It did.

He pushed to his feet with a sigh. Once he had the list of girls, he’d figure out his next step. He couldn’t just throw money at them—it’d be insult to injury—but there had to be
something
he could do. There was no making something like this right, but fuck if he was going to ignore it.

No one approached him as he walked down the stairs and through the club. He was used to people being wary of him, but there was actual fear in the air. It clung to the back of his throat, a taste he wished he didn’t know. He had to struggle to keep his pace even and walk out of there like nothing was wrong. The cold night air didn’t do shit to keep him feel like the world was closing in on him. James made it to his car and climbed in, locking the doors and starting the engine.

Only then did he lean back against the seat and close his eyes and concentrate on breathing.
Inhale. Hold for one, two, three. Exhale.
And again. By the fifth time, the static hovering at the edge of his thoughts retreated and he was able to put the car into gear and get the hell out of there.

He wished…

But no, there was no point in wishing on stars or any of that shit. His life was the way it was, and so was his current situation. It was sink or swim. If he sank, he’d take down too many people with him. Ricky had more than proven that he wouldn’t protect the weak under his domain. Even if James was willing to leave the Halloran name and responsibilities behind, he couldn’t leave the people who needed him.

It would just be so much easier to handle this shit if he was sure that the kernel of evil that seemed to flourish in his old man and brothers wasn’t doing the same damn thing inside of him. He wasn’t a good man. He had no illusions about that. But there was a long haul between “not good” and “fucking monster.”

He hoped.

He grabbed his phone before he could think better of it, and dialed the number he’d had for months but never used. It rang and rang, and right when he was about to hang up, she answered, “Hello?”

Carrigan’s voice was like a soft ocean breeze, washing away all the shit of the last few hours. James took his first full breath since he left the strip club. “Hey, lovely.”

Chapter Six

C
arrigan sat up in bed, blinking into the darkness. She had to be dreaming. It was the only explanation for hearing James’s voice growling in her ear. But no, it couldn’t be a dream because she hadn’t been sleeping. She checked the clock. Four a.m. She’d left him at the club a little over two hours ago. He should be…hell, she didn’t know. Doing anything else but calling her right now. “What do you want?” Instead of coming out harsh, the words were barely more than a whisper.
Needy
. Damn it.

He took a long time to answer, his breathing the only thing breaking the silence between them. “It’s the damnedest thing, Carrigan, but I don’t fucking know.”

It might have been the realest thing he’d ever said to her. She stared into the darkness, her mind frantically paging through possible responses—everything from making a joke and turning things sexual to actually responding in kind—but James spoke again before she had a chance to settle on a choice.

“Right now, though, I want you.”

There they were—back on firm ground once again. She knew how to verbally spar with this man, how to keep him at a distance while still wanting him closer, how to dance on the dangerous edge of the attraction that licked between them like the hottest flame. She didn’t know how to deal with the soul-deep weariness he’d just shown her.

So she ignored it.

“Like I haven’t heard that before.”

“This is different.” His growl sent delicious shivers through her body.

She settled back against her headboard, allowing a small smile. It wasn’t like he could see it. “How do you figure?”

“Because all those other men who have said it to you before weren’t worthy.”

Big words. “Oh, and I suppose you are?”

“Yeah. More than that, I’m the only one who’s going to truly have you.”

Carrigan laughed because it was the only appropriate response to the sheer cockiness of his words.
He
was going to be the only one to have her? The man was even more delusional than she could have guessed. “I don’t know if you noticed it that night, but I was hardly a blushing virgin when we met.” She found herself holding her breath, waiting for the inevitable demands to tell him how many men had been there before him. Or maybe he’d assume there had been only one, and the sheer magnitude of his masculine presence had been enough to stir her almost-virgin heart. In her experience, men fell into only one of those two categories. They constructed their own beliefs about an experience—about
her
—and when faced with evidence that they were wrong, they looked at her like she was either a whore or a virgin in disguise. There was no middle ground.

“They don’t matter.” He said it totally dismissively, as if it was actually true.

She blinked. “What?”

“They’re the past. We all have a past, lovely. It doesn’t matter who they were or how many or if you loved or hated every single one of them.”

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or just hang up. Damn him to hell and back for blocking off all the things she’d done with a few short words. If he was trying to mindfuck her, he was doing a hell of a job with it. “I’m not ashamed of what I’ve done.”

“Why should you be?” His voice dropped an octave. “Those choices led you to me, after all.”

The
nerve
. “I number you among the mistakes.”

“No, you don’t.” He sounded amused again.
Ass
.

“God, you’re completely insufferable.” It didn’t seem to matter what she said, because he always had a comeback ready. Worse, he sounded like he actually meant them. Carrigan shook her head. What she should do was hang up the phone and block this number. To do anything else was just encouraging him, and that was the last thing she should want.

Right?

“I want to know something.”

“What’s that?” She really had to work on her mouth getting away from her. Maybe she wouldn’t be in this situation if she had better control. If her father found out…She glanced at her bedroom door and took a minute to pad across her room to make sure it was locked. The cell phone had been a gift from Teague several years ago, something that she could have without fear of the family monitoring every call and text.