The Marriage Contract (22 page)

“Wife, huh? You sure move fast.”

“Cut the shit, Finch.” He made an effort to keep his voice low. “You can put a stop to this right now. You damn well know that they’re behind the shooting that killed—” He choked on the name, but finally forced it out. “That killed Devlin. Do something.”

“There’s no conclusive evidence and you know it.”

It was an effort to keep from beating his head against the wall. “They’re going to kill the women.”

“I heard something along those lines.”

It couldn’t be clearer that this piece of shit wasn’t going to do a damn thing. Teague had betrayed his family time and time again, telling Finch things he never could have found out on his own, and for what? To be left hanging in the wind repeatedly. That shit stopped now. “Then I’ll take care of it myself.”

“Now, Teague, don’t go and do something stupid. We have things under control.”

Fat fucking chance of that. They were playing him the same way they’d been playing him from the very beginning. “This thing between us is over. Find another rat.” He hung up, and then threw his phone against the wall so hard the screen cracked. All he wanted to do was stomp on it and find something heavy to crush it with until it was no more than pieces.

But there was still the slightest chance Callie would find a way to call him.

Cursing, he scooped it up and gingerly thumbed it on. The screen lit up despite the spiderwebbed glass. Thank God for small favors. He slipped it back into his pocket and walked down the hall, where he met his remaining brothers and father in the study. Father, naturally, didn’t look pleased. “Your fiancée started this war.”

“She wasn’t my fiancée at the time, and
you’re
as much to blame for this war as she is. She was defending herself.” He refused to believe anything else. Callie would only take a life if she had no other choice. He hadn’t known her long, but he knew that to the very core of his being. Of course, his father didn’t care about that.

So he had to give the man something that he
would
care about.

Teague kept his tone calm and even. “Beyond that, I married her last night. She’s an O’Malley now, as well as being a Sheridan. The Hallorans also have Carrigan. We can’t sit back and do nothing. You know what those sick bastards will do to them.”

Support came from the unlikeliest of places. Cillian stepped forward. “I just watched Devlin
die
. I’m not going to lose Carrigan, too.”

Even Aiden was nodding. “Father, if we let this stand, where will it end?”

Seamus sank behind his desk, looking every one of his fifty-five years for the first time Teague could remember. He carefully rested his hands on the polished wood. “Then we take them back.”

Thank Christ
. Teague took a step back. “In that case…” He opened the door and moved out of the way to allow Colm Sheridan to enter the room. Everyone froze—though his father looked half a second from going for the gun he kept in his top drawer—so Teague kept talking, “He has a stake in this, same as we do. Or was all that talk of alliances bullshit?”

“By all means.” His father motioned the other man to the chair across from him. “Shall we get our girls home safely?”

“Yes.” Colm sank into the indicated spot. Teague noticed bags under the older man’s eyes that hadn’t been there last time. But Sheridan was here, and they were planning like allies instead of enemies. That was better than he dared hope when he’d invited Callie’s father to this meeting.

Callie.

God, he wanted to reach across the distance and shake her until some sense popped into that gorgeous head of hers. She’d been so determined to protect him and martyr herself, she hadn’t once stopped to ask him what he thought of the whole thing. No, she’d apologized like she expected him to turn on her like a junkyard dog.

She’d said she loved him.

He rubbed a hand over his mouth and turned to face the window. Out of everything that had come out of her mouth during the phone call,
that
was the thing that burrowed into his mind and wouldn’t let go. She was doing this for
him
—so that he wouldn’t see any more people he cared about hurt. Totally missing the point that she was numbered among those people.

If something happens to her…

He fought down panic at the thought. The Hallorans had barely had her three hours. Even if James couldn’t convince his father to spare her—and Teague was starting to doubt his former friend remained an ally—she shouldn’t be hurt yet. If there was one thing Victor Halloran loved, it was a spectacle. Since it was becoming increasingly clear that he hadn’t released Carrigan as promised, it was only logical to assume he was going to do something dramatic.

But that shit took planning.

Which meant they had a small amount of time to act.

He turned back to the room to hear his father say, “Then it’s settled. We’ll attack at nightfall.”

“No.” The word was out before he could think better of it. Teague crossed his arms over his chest. “They’re already planning on killing both women. If we attack, what do you think is the first thing they’ll do?”

“If you have a better plan, now’s the time to speak up.” Aiden sounded like he actually hoped Teague had a better plan.

“I’ll go in first. Then you attack, and while the Hallorans are rushing around, trying to figure out where the bullets are coming from, I’ll get them out.”

Colm frowned. “How do you plan to get in there without being caught?”

“I’ve done it before.” Not in a very long time, and he’d been sneaking
out
then, but he doubted much had changed since. He ignored the glare his father sent him and focused on Colm. “James Halloran and I used to be friends.”

“Hmm.” He finally nodded. “Then it’s a plan.”

Father looked like he wanted to argue, but he finally nodded as well. “You have an hour. After that, we go in with guns blazing.”

N
o, not like that. Twist it the other way.”

Callie glared at the other woman. “Forgive me if I’m not as adept at picking my way out of handcuffs as you are.”

“You would be if you were better at taking directions.” Carrigan glared right back. “Twist it the other way.”

With a sigh, Callie obeyed, twisting the bobby pin she’d bent out of shape to the other side. A little jiggle later and she was rewarded with a click. The cuff opened and Carrigan’s wrist slipped free. “Fucking finally.” She snatched the makeshift pick out of Callie’s hands and went to work on the other side.

In the two hours she’d been fighting with the cuffs, she’d managed to keep the fear at bay, but now that her hands were idle, it came rushing back—with interest. Getting Carrigan’s hands free was only the first—and easiest—of the hurdles they had to clear. She glanced at the sky, the beauty of the setting sun completely lost on her. It wasn’t a gorgeous sunset. It was a mark of too much time passing.

“Don’t freak out.” Carrigan stepped out of the bathroom, where she’d retreated after she was freed. “We can’t get out of here until it’s dark anyhow.”

How in the world did she manage to be so confident? Callie snapped the curtains shut. “Then let’s get started.”

They went through the room from top to bottom, looking for anything they could use as weapons or tools to scale the outside of the house. While she was certain she could survive a fall from the second story, she didn’t like their chances of doing it without some kind of injury that would prevent them from being able to run.

Because escape was the only option now.

James had made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t going to honor the promise to release Carrigan now that he had Brendan’s murderer. If he wouldn’t do that, there was no reason to believe the Hallorans would call off their dogs, either. And with each passing hour, her faith in her contingency plan diminished. The war would continue whether she died or not.

So she was going to do her damnedest
not
to die.

She opened the closet. “There’s other clothing in here if you want to change.” Considering Carrigan must have been wearing that dress for two days now, she was surprised when the woman shook her head.

“I’m good.”

“You’re going to scale the side of this house in that dress?”

Carrigan turned a sharp look at her. “I’d rather keep this dress on than change into something of
his
.”

That brought Callie up short. His? She must mean James, but there was a wealth of rage in her voice that seemed significantly more personal than this situation warranted. Not that she was an expert on such things but…She spoke without turning from the closet. “He didn’t…hurt you?”

“No.” She muttered something that sounded like
I did that all on my own
, but before Callie could question her, she said, “Fuck. Fine. Grab me those sweats.”

She obeyed because she was pretty sure if she said anything else, Carrigan would turn on
her
. She went to hand them over, but the woman indicated that she should drop them on the floor on the side of the bed furthest from the door. When Callie raised her eyebrows, she shrugged. “No guarantee that he’s not going to come check on us. If I’m wearing his clothes, that’s a sure sign that we’re up to no good.”

“Good thinking.” It was something she should have considered on her own. Callie rubbed a hand over her eyes. They still didn’t have a way out of the room. While tying bedsheets together worked well enough in the movies, James only had a fitted sheet on his bed. That wouldn’t get them anywhere near the ground on its own.

She moved to the window again, and muscled it open. The cooling air was heaven against her face, and she spared a brief moment to close her eyes and just breathe it in. They would figure this out. They had to. She leaned out the window a little, careful to keep an eye out for anyone below. As she’d suspected, it was a straight shot to the rocky ground. There was no way they could jump without turning an ankle—and that was the best-case scenario.

She leaned out a little further, angling to get a view of the windows on either side of them. Both had the same setup. Damn it. A little further.
There
. Three windows down on the right, the garage cut out from the house. It would still be a drop, but seven feet was better than twenty. Callie ducked back inside and carefully closed the window. “I have a plan.”

“I’m all ears.”

They both froze at the sound of a heavy tread coming down the hall. Carrigan kicked the sweats under the bed. “Hurry!”

She tossed Carrigan the cuffs and she threw herself onto the bed and slipped them loosely around her wrists in the approximate spot she’d been in before. For her part, Callie spun in place, trying to figure out if they’d moved anything or if there was any indication that they had no intention of sitting here and waiting to be murdered. Nothing. Or, at least, she didn’t think so. Damn it, she couldn’t be sure.

But it was too late to do anything more. The footsteps stopped outside the door.

She dropped onto the bed next to Carrigan, hoping she could shield any inconsistencies with her body. They both looked over as the door opened, and Callie’s stomach lurched into her throat.
Brendan
.

The man moved fully into the room, and the image shattered. Not Brendan. But they were close enough in looks that this had to be another brother. He eyed them, his gaze lingering too long on Carrigan’s bare legs for Callie’s peace of mind. She shifted, trying to draw his attention, even though his creepy blue eyes gave her chills. “What do you want?”

“So you’re the bitch who killed my brother.” He leaned against the wall, but she wasn’t fooled. His body was tensed, ready to spring into motion at a second’s notice. “You’re prettier than I expected.”

It sounded like a compliment, but she couldn’t shake the instinct demanding she go for his throat. So she stayed silent. That didn’t stop him, though. He shifted closer. “You’re going to die for what you did. But not for a long, long time.” He grinned. “Baby, I’m going to enjoy breaking you.” His gaze moved back to Carrigan. “Both of you.”

“Ricky.”

Callie jumped, but the man didn’t. Obviously he’d heard James approach. He didn’t turn. “Yeah?”

“Get the fuck out of here.”

“Yeah, sure.” He tipped an imaginary hat. “I’ll be seeing you two again real soon.”

James waited for his brother to walk out of the room before he turned his attention on them. “Make whatever peace with God you can. You only have tonight.”

Then he was gone, too, shutting the door behind him. Callie sagged, adrenaline beating against the inside of her skull like she’d just been in the middle of a fight. Carrigan sat up, the cuffs dangling from her hands. “It’s almost a shame those two are going to miss out on their entertainment tomorrow.”

How could the woman joke at a time like this? Callie kept her mouth shut, because she was afraid if she opened it, she’d start screaming and never stop. So she held very still and watched the minutes tick by on the clock; the slow movement of time, much steadier than her heartbeat, grounded her. She finally took a breath and made an effort to unlock her muscles. “I don’t suppose you can pick a door lock as well as your handcuffs?”

“Normal doors? Not so much. But the ones they have in old houses like this?” Carrigan motioned to the heavy wood door between them and the rest of the house. “Piece of cake.”

She certainly was a woman of unexpected talents. Callie moved to the window and glanced at the sky. They were well on their way to dusk, but it would be a good hour yet before they could make a move. “How did you learn to pick locks?”

“Aiden taught me.” She smiled, though it was a touch bittersweet. “He convinced one of the men to teach him, and he passed it along to Teague and me. Though Teague never quite picked it up. I have a natural skill for it, I guess.” She shook her head. “And a tendency to want to be where I’m not supposed to.”

“It sucks being shut out for your own protection.” She’d dealt with that time and again growing up. Even as young as ten, Ronan was considered mature enough to sit in on meetings with Papa, while she was told to go play with her dolls. She’d resented it then, but that resentment only grew the older she got. Even when she’d stepped up to take over the legitimate side of the business, Papa had done his best to shield her from the uglier sides of what being a Sheridan meant. And then Ronan was gone, between one breath and another, and it was left to her to fill the shoes he’d left behind. She didn’t feel guilty about that early resentment, really, but most days she wished she could go back to being that naive girl who didn’t know any better.

“So-called protection. They blind us and then are surprised when we’re gunned down because we had no way to keep ourselves safe.” Carrigan looked away, her shoulders bowing in. “That didn’t help Devlin.”

“I’m so sorry.”
My fault.
God, wouldn’t she ever learn that apologizing after the fact wasn’t worth the words that came out of her mouth? “I know that doesn’t mean much now, but I was trying to make it right by coming here.”

Carrigan snorted. “Is that what you were doing?”

“I killed Brendan.” It shouldn’t get easier to say those words, but they still flowed off her tongue. “This is all my fault.”

The woman turned on the bed to face her fully. “That’s a crock of shit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re worse than Teague is with playing the martyr.” Carrigan sighed. “No wonder he’s head over heels in love with you.”

She’d known he cared. Of course she’d known he cared. He wouldn’t have acted the way he had, or touched her with such tenderness if he didn’t care on one level. But that didn’t matter now. “Even if he did before, he won’t now. Not when Devlin was killed because of a war I started.”

“You didn’t kill my brother.”

“I might as well have. They were out for vengeance for Brendan’s death.”

Carrigan rolled onto her stomach and propped her chin on her hands. “I can’t say I’m sorry to hear that you’re the one who put that monster into the ground. My father was considering selling me off to him before your engagement was announced. I would have put a bullet in his brain before I walked down the aisle, too.”

“It wasn’t like that.” She wouldn’t have done it if she had any other choice.

“Who cares? It’s done and the world is a better place for it. Teague knows that, same as I do.”

“But—”

“Boston has been a powder keg waiting to be lit for years. With the patriarchs getting older and the heirs a few short years from taking over, there’s a flux coming. That scares people. If you weren’t the match that set it off, someone else would have been.”

“That’s easy for you to say when
I’m
the one who set it off.”

Carrigan sighed. “How about I put this another way? Do you think for a second that my father, proud asshole that he is, would sit back and let your family and the Hallorans create an alliance through marriage?”

She hadn’t really thought about
anything
beyond her panic at the thought of being married to a man known for his mistreatment of helpless women. Callie sank onto the chair and actually thought about it. By all accounts—and she’d seen nothing to disprove it in her direct interactions with the man—Seamus O’Malley was just as prideful and violent as Victor Halloran. Judging by how Halloran was reacting to her and Teague’s marriage, it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that Seamus would have done something similar. “We can’t know that for sure.”

“Sure we can. I’m an expert on my father. The insult alone would have him out for blood, and the possibility that your two families would crush ours in the middle? Yeah, he’d come gunning for both of you—and he’d strike first, before you had a chance to.” Carrigan rolled on her back. “Or, take it a step further. Maybe if your father had refused the marriage offer,
that
would have made Victor Halloran declare war all on his own.”

“But—”

“Really, there’s more than enough blame to go around. No matter which way you swing it, this started before you pulled the trigger. If Brendan’s death hadn’t been enough to start a war, then something else would have happened and
that
would have been an inciting incident.”

Callie opened her mouth to argue, but stopped. The more she thought about it, the more Carrigan’s argument solidified in her mind. She tried to come up with a scenario that didn’t end in war…and came up short. She frowned. “You’re wasted as a pawn in marriage.”

Carrigan laughed. “Try telling that to my father.”

It was a crying shame for such a calculating mind to be relegated to such an archaic role. Callie might have agreed to an arranged marriage, but it had ultimately been her choice. Carrigan didn’t even have that. “I’m sorry.”

“You have a nasty habit of apologizing for things that you have no control of.”

“That doesn’t make me any less sorry. You deserve better than that.” She didn’t have to like the woman to recognize that. But it put Carrigan’s actions in a completely new light. Callie compared herself to a caged bird when she was feeling melodramatic, but she had a lot of freedom. And, one day, she would run the Sheridan empire.

Carrigan truly was caged. If her father was really forcing her to marry a man of his choice—and Callie had no reason to believe otherwise—then she couldn’t blame the woman for escaping every chance she got. Speaking of… “Where did you go the other night? I mean, I assume something went wrong because you ended up here.” She motioned to the room they were currently locked in.

“I went out for a bit of air, and that jackass James grabbed me.”

Callie started to ask about the man the bartender had seen her with, but changed her mind at the last minute. Carrigan was entitled to her secrets. She glanced at the window. “I think it’s dark enough.”

“Thank God.” She stood and walked to the door. “Just give me a minute to change and I’ll have us out of here.”

She pressed her ear to the door as Carrigan changed into the sweats—she had to roll them four times and knot the drawstring to keep them from falling off— and crouched next to the keyhole, holding her breath. If they were found out now, there was nothing stopping James or whoever caught them from killing them on the spot. They’d been promised death, after all. There was nothing but silence on the other side of the door.