Chapter Eleven #2
“See that it is.” Aileen nodded, turned on her heel, and marched out of the room.
Probably off to terrify one of Carrigan’s other siblings.
They all loved their mother, but she was almost scarier than their father was.
She never seemed to be involved with his darker decisions, but anyone who believed that wasn’t looking hard enough.
She might not take part in the business publicly, but she stood as their father’s partner in every way that counted.
Carrigan pushed to her feet and headed to get ready.
She’d barely started her makeup process when her treacherous mind wandered back to James.
What had he been up to this week? Was he grinning and feeling superior because he got what every man seemed to want from her?
She shook her head. No, that wasn’t James.
Maybe she was naive, but very little he’d done to date could be grouped in with “other men.” He played by rules that she didn’t understand, and when he looked at her with those blue eyes, she was tempted to throw caution to the wind and do whatever it took to spend a few more hours in his bed.
Which would be a nice change of pace, because they hadn’t actually made it to a bed yet.
But it simply wasn’t possible.
His words from last night rolled over her again. Every date you go on is going to be tightening the noose around your neck. Call me. I’ll be there.
He would, too. He’d more than proven that since she got back into town.
She paused in the middle of swiping mascara over her lashes, her gaze landing on the phone next to her on the counter.
She could call him right now. Would he drop everything and come get her?
Maybe rev up the engine of that car of his and take her anywhere she wanted to go?
Before she could talk herself out of it, she snatched up her phone and dialed.
Carrigan held her breath as it rang, telling herself that this was dangerous and stupid and half a million other things that all added up to a terrible idea.
It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the unexpected lifeline he’d offered her.
The phone rang. And rang. And rang. It clicked over to voice mail, and she was so shocked, she almost didn’t hang up before it got to the beep.
Carrigan stared at her phone, half convinced that it had malfunctioned on her end.
She carefully set it down and forced herself to see the truth.
All that night had been was pretty words.
When it came down to the wire, she couldn’t lean on James. She’d forgotten that for a moment.
She wouldn’t forget again.
* * *
James ignored the buzzing of his phone in his pocket as he carefully rolled up his sleeves. “You know why we’re here, Joe.”
The big black guy raised his chin, but his nostrils were flared and too much white showed around his eyes.
He was fifteen seconds away from pissing himself in fear.
Good . Hopefully this shit wouldn’t have to go to extremes for James to get the information he wanted.
He finished his right sleeve and started on his left.
“Ricky’ s been taking meetings without my permission.
” He needed to know exactly who he’d talked to, and his little brother wasn’t talking.
“You’ll have to take that up with him.”
He should. Fuck, he knew he should. But a part of James was still unwilling to go that final distance and bring torturing information out of his little brother to the table. Call him delusional, but that seemed like a line that, once crossed, he’d never be able to find his way back over again.
His thoughts took a hard right turn and settled on Carrigan. What would she think of what he was about to do? Of what he was threatening to do to his own flesh and blood?
Ricky would have hurt her. He would have done his damnedest to make her scream and he would have loved every second of it.
He shook his head. Not helping . But if he could get Joe to talk, he could simplify his life.
“I’m taking it up with you.” He moved to the table Michael had set up next to where the man was tied to a chair in the center of the room.
The harsh light directly above Joe’s head was positioned in such a way that he was partially blinded, and most of the rest of the room was in shadows.
Victor Halloran knew a whole hell of a lot about intimidation tactics—he liked to say that half the interrogation session happened before he ever laid hands on his victim.
James fought back a shudder. He could shout that he wasn’t his old man until he was hoarse, but the proof was in his actions.
He picked up a set of pliers. “These don’t look like much.
Most houses on this street have a set or two.
” He stepped up close to Joe, letting him get a look at the rusted metal.
“My old man didn’t take good care of his tools, but he loved the shit out of them.
Would you like to see what he taught me? ”
Joe’s entire body went tense, his gaze glued to the pliers. “Look, man, you really need to talk to Ricky. I was just following orders.”
“His orders.” James turned the pliers, picking a piece of something he really didn’t want to think about off the tip and flicking it at the other man. “You should be following mine.”
“We didn’t think you were going to step up.” The words were barely more than a whisper. “Ricky talks a good game, and he gets shit done.”
Shit that didn’t do the Hallorans a single bit of good.
But this man didn’t see that—and neither did the others who followed his little brother.
All they saw were the actions. Not the consequences.
He couldn’t say that aloud, though. The second he tried to reason with these men was the moment he lost them completely.
They’d proven time and time again that they didn’t respect anything but brutal violence.
Love or fear. That’s the only way .
Love would never be enough. It didn’t matter what he did, or how well he took care of the people in their territory, or how much their legal businesses had increased in the last few months since he’d taken the reins.
Nothing mattered but becoming a monster even the monsters feared.
It was the only way to keep them in line.
Fine . He’d give Joe his goddamn fear. “Who runs the Hallorans, Joe?” Despite trying to muscle every single emotion down to where he could lock it away for what he needed to do next, he sounded so goddamn tired.
The man in the chair started to sweat. “You do, boss.”
Too little, too late. He moved closer, his feet feeling like they weighed a thousand pounds. “ Me, Joe. Not my brother. You learned that lesson a little too late.” He forced the man’s fingers apart. “But you won’t forget it again.”
An hour later it was done.
James walked out of the room, his skin feeling too tight.
Fuck, fuck, fuck . He stopped next to where Michael leaned against the wall, a toothpick in his mouth.
“Get him cleaned up and home. He can figure out how to splint the fingers himself.” The words were foul in his mouth, and he had to resist the urge to spit.
“Sure thing, boss.” Michael pushed off and took two steps before he stopped. “You did the right thing.”
That’s what he was afraid of.
Once upon a time there’d been a right and a wrong and a clear line between them.
Now everything was upside-down and backward.
He lived in a reality where torturing a man was the right thing to do—the lesser of two evils—and he’d never hated himself as much as he did in that moment.
But there was no getting off this runaway train—the doors had closed and they’d left the station.
The only thing to do was ride it out to its conclusion and hope there were enough people left standing to make the whole thing worthwhile.
He wanted to talk to Carrigan. Just being around her was enough to hold all the shit he didn’t want to deal with at bay, but he couldn’t bring himself to call her with another man’s blood on his hands and his cries for mercy still ringing in James’s ears.
No, he’d shower, go down to the weight room, and then shower again.
Maybe if he punished his body enough, he’d be able to bear the new stain on his soul.