Chapter Nineteen
J ames spent all Tuesday in a foul mood. It was his own damn fault and he knew it, but not knowing what was going on with Carrigan—and knowing he’d been the one to put her in that position—drove him nuts. So he did the only thing he could do and put his frustration to good use.
He took Michael and went on rounds. If his time at Tit for Tat was anything to go by, it had been too long since he’d done them.
Really, as soon as he realized Ricky was taking advantage, he should have touched base with the managers of his various businesses.
Should have, but didn’t, because he was too busy chasing Carrigan.
Even when he wasn’t with her, he was thinking about her, and it threw him off his game at a time when he needed to keep shit from falling through the cracks.
Sure, Ricky had said he’d follow orders like a good little soldier, but James didn’t believe him for a second. His brother would do whatever he thought benefited him best—including stabbing James in the back when the opportunity popped up.
So he couldn’t give him the opportunity.
To his relief, no one else had any problems beyond the shit that popped up here and there.
Tommy had to run off some Sheridan boys last week, but it had been drunk men acting like assholes and not an actual skirmish.
Harmless stuff, especially since Tommy had defused the situation before anyone got violent.
He still needed to figure out what he was going to do to keep Ricky busy—and soon.
The longer his brother sat idle, the more likely he was to say “to hell with it” and go back to doing exactly what he’d been doing before James was forced to take such extreme measures.
I just have to keep him away from the girls .
He turned to Michael, sitting in the passenger seat of the Chevelle, his hands in his lap, like he was afraid of touching anything.
“When’s the next shipment coming in to replace what we lost in the Sheridan attack? ”
“Got a hundred AKs two days from now.”
He thought fast. “Those the ones we owe our friends on the West Coast?”
“Yep.”
They didn’t transfer goods often, but his father had created a trade with some group back west. Guns for…
something. James wasn’t sure. He wasn’t too keen on sending guns off to people he didn’t know, where they’d be used for God knew what, but he had enough enemies.
Courting more was stupid, even if they were three thousand miles away.
His father had made a deal, and he’d follow through on it.
After that… Well, once it was done he’d reevaluate.
But this might be a blessing in disguise. He’d get Ricky out of Boston for a while, and maybe the distance between them would be enough to dim some of his brother’s anger. He doubted it, but it couldn’t hurt to try.
Plus, then he wouldn’t have to be looking over his shoulder for a knife—at least for a week or so.
“Put my brother on it. Send him and…” Not Jake.
He’d just get Ricky into more trouble. Joe wasn’t up to work yet, not after…
James moved past what he’d done to the man.
“Matthew and Eddie.” They were solid, and they’d made that run before so they should be able to keep his brother in line.
He might not trust them like he trusted Michael, but they could take orders, and he’d be reasonably sure that they’d obey.
Especially after they’d seen Joe’s hands.
“Will do, boss.”
“Good.” He headed for the house, satisfied that he’d made the right decision. A little space would do both him and Ricky good.
He hadn’t thought about Carrigan for a whole ten minutes.
What was she doing right now? He wouldn’t put it past her father and brother to have shipped her out of town again, well beyond his reach.
My fault. Never should have gone to that stupid wedding .
Normally, he never would have made such a reckless decision, but the woman made him wild.
A little over forty-eight hours since seeing her and he was already twitchy, his temper fraying over every little thing.
He wanted her safe in his arms. Ironic, because in his arms was where she was in the most danger.
He had no doubt that Aiden meant his threat—it meant war to continue his affair with Carrigan.
The problem was… he wasn’t sure it wasn’t worth it.
No, he had to stop pussyfooting around. Carrigan was worth it.
He’d never had a woman make him feel the way she did.
He’d happily set the world afire and watch it burn if she asked it of him.
She wouldn’t, though. He knew her well enough to know that.
She’d never been put first in her life before, and the truth was that he was a shitty leader for being willing to do it. He just didn’t give a fuck.
He couldn’t call her. The stakes were too high. He wouldn’t put her in that position unless he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she wanted to be there. She had to be the one to reach out to him.
And she hadn’t.
The problem was that he didn’t know if it was because she didn’t want to or if she couldn’t. He could understand her being furious with him. He’d screwed up, but it didn’t change anything between them—at least not as far as he was concerned—and not knowing where she stood pissed him the hell off.
He parked and they headed into the house.
“Brief Eddie and Matthew. Make sure they know how important this shit is—and how disappointed I’ll be if something goes wrong.
” After Michael nodded and disappeared down a side hall, James went in search of his brother.
It didn’t take long for him to find Ricky.
He’d posted up in the giant family room on the leather couch, his boots propped on the coffee table, basketball on the TV.
James stopped and looked around the room. This used to be the place where he and his brothers spent most of their time. Where they’d fought and bonded over whatever sports were in season. Where they’d eventually grown apart, so they were more strangers than family.
He didn’t come in here much anymore. “Ricky.”
“Yeah?” He didn’t look away from the screen.
“I got a job for you.”
That got his little brother’s attention. He turned around, wariness written all over his face. “What kind of job?”
It was like pulling teeth. “The kind where I give you orders and you obey them. Unless you already forgot how the other day played out?”
“No, no. I was just asking. Jesus, James, I was just fucking with you.”
No, he wasn’t. He was pushing, testing boundaries, looking for weakness.
Was this what parenting was like? James almost laughed at the thought.
It might be similar, but he doubted most kids were willing to do actual violence to their parents during their rebellious teenage years.
Ricky was. James waited for his brother to drop his gaze before he spoke again.
“The shipment that comes in two days from now needs an escort over to Northern California. You’ll take two men and make sure it gets there without a problem. ”
Ricky’s mouth tightened, but he gave a jerky nod. “Sure thing.”
He didn’t believe the obedient act for a second, but there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
He couldn’t punish his brother for having a shitty attitude, or because he suspected Ricky was up to no good.
His men would think he was crazier than his old man, and it would only be a matter of time before they put him in the ground.
Getting him out of town for a week or so is exactly what both of us need right now.
“Have you gone to see him?”
James stopped but he didn’t turn to face his brother.
There was no need to ask who Ricky was talking about—their old man.
“No.” Not since that first time. He’d shown up at the jail, needing some sort of reassurance that he was doing the right thing as he stepped into the role thrust upon him.
Victor had turned James away, leaving the message that he was a disappointment and always had been.
Bitterness clawed up his throat, as familiar as the back of his hand.
He’d never lived up to his old man’s exacting standards, and he’d never stopped trying, either. Now he was doing things his own way.
And making one hell of a mess of it.
His phone buzzed, saving him from the conversation. He dug it from his pocket, and his breath whooshed out at the sight of Carrigan’s name. She’d called. He thumbed it on as he walked out of the room. “It’s good to hear from you.”
“James.” Her voice was so broken, so unlike her, that he froze. “James, I need you. Now.”
He didn’t stop to think or question. He grabbed his jacket and keys from the rack by the door and hit the sidewalk at a run. “I’m on my way. Tell me where.” This was different from the last time she’d called him. She’d been upset then. But this sounded so much worse. “Did someone hurt you?”
She laughed, a jagged wet sound. “Not how you mean.” She rattled off an address.
He did some quick mental calculations. “I can be there in fifteen minutes.” He’d have to break a few traffic laws to pull it off, but he’d manage.
“Okay… thank you.”
“Hang in there, lovely. I’m coming.” He slid into the driver’s seat of a black Beemer that he kept for times when he didn’t want to draw attention to himself, and dropped his phone next to him so if she called again, he wouldn’t miss it. Then he floored it.