Chapter Sixteen
J ames spent the day in meetings. It was all shit he knew he’d been neglecting, but his talk with Lisa Marie had driven home just how many things he’d let slip through the cracks. It was time to change that. If he was going to run the Hallorans, he had to stop pussyfooting around and run it.
By the time he got back to the house, it was dark and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. But he was confident that there were no more nasty surprises lurking as a result of Ricky’s actions while James wasn’t paying attention. As for Ricky…
It was time to do something about that, too.
Ten days was long enough to let him stew. He needed to fix this. Now.
He checked his phone as he walked through the door.
Nothing. Not that he’d expected Carrigan to call him.
She’d made it pretty damn clear that she had a lot going on in the next few days, so there was no reason for the disappointment souring his stomach.
He’d just spent the damn night with her.
He couldn’t possibly miss her. But the thought of going another few days without seeing her again made the feeling in his stomach worse.
Pathetic . He could almost hear his old man’s voice in his head, letting him know just what Victor Halloran thought of his son getting twisted up over a woman, let alone an O’Malley woman. A distraction. That’s all she is. Nothing good will come of it .
He bypassed the kitchen—no point in eating until he dealt with his brother—and made his way downstairs.
It was eerily quiet in the basement, the silence broken only by the occasional sound of the house settling.
Even though this place wasn’t old, it still had the feeling of something tired and exhausted, the history of too many bad memories weighing it down.
I’d like to light a match and leave it to burn .
He unlocked the door to Ricky’s cell and walked in. His brother lounged on the rickety old bed, his head propped on his arms as he stared at the ceiling. “James.”
“Ricky.” He moved to lean against the wall opposite.
Ricky didn’t look like a broken man, but then, this was the least of what their old man had put them through.
His brother had nearly the same scars James did.
He opened his mouth, and then reconsidered.
There had to be a better way to do this—all of this. “What do you want?”
“Everything.” Ricky sat up. “But since that’s not on the table, I’d settle for you not treating me like your annoying kid brother and actually showing a little fucking respect.”
He had two options. He could leave his little brother down here to rot, secure in the knowledge that he wasn’t causing trouble.
Or he could take a risk and see if a little more responsibility would be the thing to get Ricky on track.
And it was a risk. But James was all too aware of the whispers that circulated among his men.
Plenty of people weren’t happy that he was rolling with the peace talks instead of striking directly into the heart of the O’Malleys and Sheridans.
If they thought he was locking away Ricky because he was scared of him, it would put James in a precarious place.
If he could somehow get his brother on the same page, it would kill multiple birds with one stone. Not that he was going to trust Ricky—the only reason his brother would suddenly have a change of heart is that he wanted something and had to go through James to get it.
But maybe he could channel that to his purposes.
“I’ll show you respect when you earn it.” He made a show of looking around the bare room. “Which you’re not going to do down here. Are you ready to man up and show you can take orders?”
Ricky narrowed his eyes. “You’re letting me out.”
“I’m willing to work with you, if you’re willing to obey.”
He seemed to think it over, but there was no masking the excitement in his eyes. Apparently his brother hated this room almost as much as James hated putting him down here. “What do you want me to do?”
Here was the crux. “You’re going to run protection duty on the border businesses. If you can manage that without starting shit with anyone, then we’ll talk.”
“How long?”
Long enough to make sure he was actually, genuinely wanting this to do right and not just playing James. “ Until I say so.”
“Fine.” Ricky stood and held out his hand. “I’ll play soldier.”
James shook it, but he held on when his brother would have let go. “And, Ricky, stay the fuck away from Tit for Tat. Your shadow darkens that doorway, and a few days in this room will look like a goddamn paradise.”
He hesitated, and then gave a jerky nod. “Sure thing. I was done with the tired-ass tail that works there, anyway.”
Sure you were. He couldn’t control his brother’s actions across the board, but he could at least make sure that the girls who looked to him for protection were actually protected .
That thought brought him back to the shipment coming in soon.
He expected the proprietors to be in touch within a few days, and then he’d have to decide once and for all what he was going to do about them.
I could do some good in this world. Maybe then I’d be able to keep myself from the slow, final slide into being the monster my father was .
He kept coming back to Carrigan’s idea of a nonprofit.
It wasn’t something he could do on his own, but he’d seen the way she lit up with excitement at the idea of running something like that.
With her helming that side of things, he could do his part by sliding a portion of the girls into various jobs in Boston. They’d make a hell of a team.
Except we aren’t a team. She’s marrying someone else, and no man worth his shit is going to let her work with me on something like this.
“James?”
He blinked. From the tone of Ricky’s voice, he’d said his name a few times. “Yeah?”
“You won’t regret this.” He turned and walked out of the door without looking back.
Funny, but James was already regretting it.
His brother was a loose cannon and he damn well knew it, but letting him out of this room was the lesser of two evils.
He had to take a chance, no matter how much he didn’t like it.
After a few minutes, he left the cell and made his way up to his room.
Another glance at his phone showed just as few calls as it had last time.
Carrigan was probably still at the rehearsal, or the dinner that had undoubtedly been thrown afterward. She wasn’t going to call.
He was a damn fool for wanting her to.
Tomorrow was Teague’s wedding. He mulled that over while he showered, scrubbing down his body.
He’d gotten an invite only as courtesy and he damn well knew it.
They didn’t want him there. The strained friendship he and Teague had shared over the years had finally broken under the events of the last few months, and he didn’t blame the man for the desire to punch the shit out of James that was written all over his face every time they were forced to interact.
Ironically, Callista Sheridan didn’t seem to hold his taking her captive against him.
But then, she had shot and killed his older brother. That kind of made it hard to stand on a pedestal.
He ducked under the shower spray, as if something as simple as water could wash away all his sins.
Going to Teague’s wedding was asking for trouble—trouble he couldn’t afford.
The peace between the three families was precarious at best, and doing something that might jeopardize it was the height of stupidity.
If he had a brain in his head, he’d leave town tomorrow and avoid the temptation the whole fiasco offered.
James shut off the water, knowing damn well that he wasn’t going to do it.
He craved the sight of Carrigan, and adding more distance between them, even for a limited time, wasn’t a goddamn option.
Fuck . Looked like he was going to a wedding tomorrow.
* * *
Carrigan didn’t cry. Especially at weddings. Especially at weddings whose planning had been a giant pain in her ass for the last few months and had been arranged by her parents.
But the second Callie started down the aisle in her gorgeous white dress, its train like something out of a fairy tale, and Teague’s eyes shone, Carrigan damn near lost it.
He’s so happy. That’s all I ever wanted for him .
None of her problems mattered today. They could wait.
Teague and Callie’s happiness took priority, and she was more than content to temporarily shelve her own baggage for a while.
She clutched her miniature bouquet while Callie’s father handed her off to Teague and the priest began to talk about love and Christ and marriage. It couldn’t be more obvious that neither of the two people at the altar gave two fucks about his words. They only had eyes for each other.
Even Carrigan could admit that the wedding was gorgeous.
Her mother had gone all out, and all the headaches and badgering had resulted in a picture-perfect ceremony.
The bridesmaids all wore long blue gowns the same color as Callie’s eyes, and they all had lily bouquets instead of the traditional roses, which complemented Callie’s lily and rose bouquet.
All Carrigan’s remaining brothers were there, polished within an inch of their lives, and they all looked genuinely happy for the first time in longer than she cared to remember.
It seemed like she wasn’t the only one putting aside her baggage for Teague’s big day.
Teague and Callie exchanged their vows and were announced as Mr. and Mrs. Teague O’Malley.
No one seemed to care that they’d already been married for several months—including them.
And then they were down the aisle and disappearing through the huge doors, and Aiden was there, offering his arm to Carrigan. “You managed to be on time, I see.”