The Marriage Contract (23 page)

She closed her eyes, listening harder. Was that a rustle? Was there someone standing right on the other side, listening just as hard as she was, knowing exactly what the soft clicks of Carrigan’s tools in the lock meant?

This is the only way. You die now, or you die how the Hallorans choose.

When she looked at it like that, there wasn’t really any choice at all. She couldn’t just sit here and wait for the ax to fall, proverbial or otherwise. Now was the time for action.

“Got it.” Carrigan’s words were barely more than a whisper.

“Just a second.” Callie padded over to grab the lamp. It was unwieldy, but any weapon was better than no weapon at this point.

Carrigan nodded. She took the other lamp and then cracked open the door.

They waited, but no one burst into the room and no sound of alarm went up. Apparently James was confident in his people’s ability to keep them contained in the house without a guard. Well, he was about to be proven wrong. Callie slipped into the hallway, followed by Carrigan, padding on bare feet. She would have liked to get the other woman a pair of shoes that weren’t heels, but James’s were almost comically too large. So bare feet it was.

She silently counted the doors as they moved past them. One. Two. Still no one in the hallway but them. Three. She pointed to the third door. Carrigan tried the handle and it opened with only the slightest creak.

Footsteps in the hallway behind them had them both spinning around. James stood at the top of the stairs, his eyes narrowed. Callie tensed, waiting for the moment he’d sound the alarm. Even with two of them against one of him, she doubted they’d win in a fight. He walked to them slowly, his gaze flickering over her and landing on Carrigan.

She raised her chin. “Come to drag us back to our cage?”

“No.” He snagged the back of her neck and dragged her against him. The kiss was quick and brutal and left Callie feeling like the worst kind of voyeur. James stepped back, easily evading Carrigan’s left hook. “You and me, lovely, we’re not fucking finished. Not by a long shot.” Then he turned around and walked away.

Callie stared after him, unable to believe what just happened. “Did he just—”

“I’m going to
kill
him.”

She grabbed Carrigan’s arm. “Let’s go. I don’t want him to suddenly change his mind.” Though the look on his face made her think he wouldn’t. Obviously things between him and Carrigan were significantly more complicated than the woman had let on.

After a slight hesitation, she nodded and let Callie lead her through the door. The room wasn’t a bedroom. It looked sort of like a study, but the shelves were mostly empty, and the few pieces of furniture all had a light coating of dust across them. She moved immediately to the window and pushed it open. “It’s only a short drop to the garage roof.” When no one answered, she turned to find Carrigan holding a book, frowning at it. “What?”

“Nothing.” She shut the book. “I’m bringing this with me.”

It would make it more difficult to maneuver with her carrying something, but Callie didn’t point that out. Whatever that book was, the other woman thought it important enough to set her lamp aside and tuck it against her chest. She motioned to the window. “The coast looks clear, but there’s no way to know what we’re walking into.”

“Anything’s better than staying here.”

“Then let’s not waste any more time.” Callie sat on the windowsill and shifted one of her legs outside. She waited for one breathless moment, but only the distant caw of a crow answered her. So far, so good. She set her lamp on the floor, climbed the rest of the way out, and dropped the few feet onto the garage roof.

Instantly, she crouched down, trying to minimize the chance of someone seeing a human-shaped shadow where it shouldn’t be. The yard below her was as empty as the street beyond it, but she couldn’t afford to assume that the Hallorans had no guards set up. He’d be a fool to assume there wasn’t the potential for attack. No, they were there. Somewhere.

Carrigan joined her on the roof with a light thud. She looked to Callie, obviously willing to follow her lead. It felt strange after the woman had basically ripped her a new one on two different occasions, but she didn’t hesitate to shuffle along the roofline, keeping as low as she could. The pitch was steep, but the newish roof gave them plenty of traction. She aimed for the part of the slant closest to the ground—and furthest away from the bright floodlights positioned strategically around the back. They’d have to brave those to get to the street, and even then it was a long ten blocks to territory that wasn’t owned by the Hallorans—not including skirting the warehouses surrounding the highway.

One step at a time.

“You hear about the entertainment boss has scheduled for tomorrow?”

She froze on the edge of the roof, tucked up against the body of the house. God, how hadn’t she noticed the man standing down in the shadows, the bright red spot of his cigarette burning in the darkness? A second ember rose. A second man.
Damn it
.

“Pretty girls. Almost a shame.”

The first man laughed, the harsh hack of a longtime smoker. “Only a shame if he doesn’t share.” He kept laughing, joined by the other speaker.

Callie looked over at Carrigan, but she couldn’t see anything beyond the pale shape of the woman’s face. Did she feel as sick as Callie did hearing that? Because, right now, she was torn between the urge to descend on these two monsters like an avenging Valkyrie, and the need to expel the meager contents of her stomach.

She managed to resist both impulses.

They needed to get out of here alive. That meant not attacking anyone unless there was no other choice. And throwing up was for the weak. If she got out of this, there would be plenty of time to be sick. Right now, she had to hold it together.

So she waited and tried very hard not to listen to all the things Halloran had planned to do to them. It was cold comfort to know that Brendan—and apparently Ricky—came by his monstrous side honestly. Sins of the father and whatnot.

Eventually the men finished their smoke break and wandered off. Callie counted to one hundred mentally before she moved. She touched Carrigan’s arm and motioned to the same nook the men had stood in. Then she slid down the side off the roof and lowered herself to drop to the ground. She moved to the side as Carrigan followed her, once again scanning for someone who might catch them. Once the other woman stood, she leaned in. “I think we can get to the street around this corner. The lights are pretty bright, but there are trees that we can use as cover.”

“Works for me.”

Callie sidled along the edge of the house, took a deep breath, and leaned out a little to look around the corner. Nothing. She glanced back to nod the all clear. Her heart tried to pound its way out of her chest as she took that first step into the yard. Even though they’d been at risk before, she felt significantly more vulnerable without a wall at her back. Another step.

When no one shouted at her to stop, she picked up her pace, aiming for the closest tree. She was almost there when a dark shape stepped into her path and a hand slammed down on her mouth, cutting off her scream.

T
eague held Callie as she struggled. “It’s me. Don’t scream, angel. It’s me.” She finally went still, and he allowed her to turn in his arms to face him.

“Teague?”

Carrigan slipped next to them. “You’re about an hour too late, but I’ll forgive you if you get us out of here without anyone being shot.” She turned as Aiden ghosted up next to them. “You too?”

“Contrary to what you believe, I do care.”

“Whatever.”

If he let them, they’d end up in a full-out argument right here in the middle of Halloran property. “Let’s go.” Teague turned without waiting for an answer. The trees weren’t spaced closely together, but they were large and cast strange shadows. If they were careful, they should be able to get out of here before his father and Colm Sheridan attacked.

Even as the thought crossed his mind, gunfire sounded from somewhere close by. He spun on Aiden. “We’re supposed to have another hour.”

“Don’t look at me. I didn’t know shit about this.”

He realized he was still holding Callie and forced himself to let go. “We do this quick and quiet. I’ll take the lead. Aiden will bring up the rear. You move when I move.”

Both women nodded, which was a token of just how scared they were. Fuck, he was scared, too. If he got this close and lost either one of them? It was unthinkable. He checked the surrounding area, but there wasn’t a bit of movement, though the sounds of fighting were growing by the second. It was now or never. He squeezed Callie’s hand and then darted out into the open area, nearly sprinting to the next tree.

Silence.

He turned back as Callie followed his movement exactly—a quick rush from one tree to the next. And then Carrigan. Teague moved as soon as his sister reached him, rushing to the next tree.

Again, silence.

This is too easy. Why aren’t there more guards out back? If I were Victor Halloran, I’d—

Gunshots, this time far too close.

He whirled around in time to yank Callie to his chest as a spotlight shone on the gap between the two trees she’d just run through. A man yelled, “I see you, you little bitch. You’re not going to make it to the property line.” Teague didn’t recognize the voice, but Callie flinched. Obviously she knew who spoke. He wanted to ask her, to reassure her that she wasn’t being taken back there again, but it was false comfort at best.

Instead, he leaned around her. The harsh light gave him a clear view of his siblings despite their cover behind the tree. They couldn’t stay here. It was only a matter of time before men came to flush them out—right into the path of that gun.

Aiden knew that as well as he did. He jerked his thumb in the opposite direction. All those childhood games of hide-and-seek in their Connecticut home, teaming up against the girls, came in handy now. He and Aiden had been speaking without words for years. His brother would take Carrigan in the opposite direction, splitting the enemy. It didn’t magically make their odds good, but bad was still better than suicidal.

He nodded.
God go with you, brother
.

With effort, he put the fate of his siblings aside. He couldn’t afford to be distracted right now—not with Callie’s life in his hands. Teague pulled a second gun from his ankle holster. “I trust you know how to use this?”

She checked to make sure it was loaded, and slammed the clip back into place. “Your sense of humor is suspect.”

“That’s what everyone keeps telling me.” Despite the situation, he grinned. “I missed you, angel.”

“I…I missed you, too.”

“And if you ever think of trying some shit like this again—”

She pressed her fingertips to his lips. “Can we talk about this when we aren’t in danger of being killed?”

“If you insist.” He kissed her, light and quick, and then turned to survey their options. The fence was a few short yards away. There was every chance that there were more men on the other side of it, but as long as they were on this side, they were sitting ducks. He motioned. “I don’t suppose you can climb that?”

“Give me a boost and I can.”

It would slow them down, but there wasn’t any other option. “Okay. Count of three.”

A shout went up behind them and someone opened fire. He glanced back to find Aiden and Carrigan pelting away from them. “Three!”

She flew next to him, keeping up easily. He hit the fence first and went down on one knee. “Up.” She didn’t hesitate to put her foot into his cupped hands. He lifted with all his strength, regretting her startled yelp as she soared over him, but there was no time for courtesy. He barely waited for her hands to disappear off the top of the fence when he jumped, grabbing the rough wood and hauling himself to the top.

Pain blazed through his side, almost sending him toppling back into the Hallorans’ yard. He clung to the fence, gritting his teeth.
Fuck, fuck, goddamn it, that hurt
. It took all his strength to fall on the right side—the street side. Teague hit the ground hard enough to drive what little air he’d retained from his lungs. He wheezed out a breath and rolled onto his back, his entire world made up of a red haze of pain.

Instantly, Callie was next to him, concern in every line of her body. She lifted a hand and gasped. “You’re bleeding.”

“I think…I was shot.” He managed to get a breath in, but the sheer agony of it made him regret his decision. Did he really need to breathe?

Voices sounded on the other side of the bushes shielding them. “They came over around here somewhere.”

“They couldn’t have gotten far.”

He tried to keep his harsh breaths quiet, but it was nearly impossible. He was vaguely aware of Callie shifting her stance on the gun in her hands. She touched his chest, though whether it was in comfort or warning, he couldn’t say.

The bushes in front of them parted, and she raised the gun. The man’s startled yelp was cut off halfway through, the shot knocking him back. She looked sick but determined. “You can’t run, but you need to move. I’ll draw them away—”

He grabbed her arm with all the strength he had left—a pathetically small amount. “Don’t you fucking dare. You did the noble thing once…” An agonized breath. “No more.”

“They will finish what they started and kill you.”

He wasn’t sure what clued him in. It might have been a scuff of a shoe on pavement. Or maybe the slightest shifting somewhere below the level of consciousness. It didn’t matter. He yanked Callie down on his chest a second before shots fired, biting the fence where her head had just been.

She rolled off him almost immediately, aiming once again, but she didn’t pull the trigger. “What if I kill someone in the building across the street?”

“Empty,” he gasped.

“You’re sure?” Her voice wasn’t anywhere near calm, but her hands were steady.

“Yes.”

She didn’t ask again. She shot once, twice, a third time, and whoever was on the other side of the bushes gave a pained cry and sounded like he crumpled to the ground. She glanced at him. “We need to move.”

“I know.” But he suspected he couldn’t. His thoughts were fuzzy, and he wasn’t sure if that was the pain level or the blood loss.

She knew it. Damn it, he could see it in her eyes. Callie dropped the gun and yanked her sweatshirt off. He didn’t have the strength to cry out when she pressed it against his side with all her might. “Don’t you dare die on me, Teague O’Malley.”

Spots danced in front of his eyes that had nothing to do with it being night. “I love you.” Then the blackness swallowed him whole.

Callie knew the moment he passed out. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the pressure she was putting on his still-healing ribs or because of blood loss, but she dearly hoped it was the former. As long as they didn’t puncture anything, broken ribs wouldn’t kill him. A gunshot wound surely would.

A car pulled up on the street near them. She cocked her head to the side, tracking its movement as it stopped and the doors opened. This was it. There was no escape for either of them. By her count, she only had five or six shots left, and to grab her gun, she’d have to take her hands off Teague’s wound. Since the fabric was already wet with his blood, she couldn’t afford to do that.

She closed her eyes.
I don’t know if you’re listening, God. I’ve made a grand mess of this. But spare Teague. He never asked for any of this
. A silly, foolish prayer.

“Callista Sheridan?”

She tensed. Of course they knew her name. That wasn’t as surprising as the fact that they were yelling at her instead of shooting first. But then, they’d want their entertainment, wouldn’t they? Couldn’t have that if she was dead.

“Ms. Sheridan, my name is John Finch. I’m with the FBI. You placed a call to my office earlier today.”

She blinked. There was no way the Hallorans could know that…but was it a risk she was willing to take? They could be lying, waiting for her to run out into the open and then gunning her down. She looked at Teague. It was hard to tell in the shadows, but he looked scarily pale. He needed a doctor, and quickly.

So she took a leap of faith. “I have an injured man here. He’s been shot.”

“We’re coming to you.” He hesitated. “Please try to resist shooting any of my men.”

She highly resented the amusement in his voice. There was nothing amusing about this situation. Nothing at all. “Get in here.”

The bushes parted and two men rushed to her. She tensed, waiting for the bullets to tear through her flesh, but they just shouldered her aside and knelt next to Teague. “Bullet wound to the upper chest. He’ll need surgery and an immediate transfusion.”

The other turned to her. “We have an ambulance en route.”

This turn of events was nearly impossible to wrap her head around. She’d hoped her contingency plan would work—God, of course she’d hoped—but it was still too good to be true. A third man appeared and offered her a hand. “If you’ll come with me, please?” He sighed when her gaze tracked back to Teague. “Mr. O’Malley will get the best medical care the government has to offer.”

That didn’t mean a damn thing if he died before they could get him to the hospital.

The man sighed again. “I can see there’ll be no talking to you until he’s off.” He turned around and disappeared through the bushes, leaving her to sit just out of reach while the other two men went to work on stabilizing Teague.

Sirens cut through the night. The
silent
night. She turned to look back at the Hallorans’ property. Where were the gunshots that had been peppering around them since Teague showed up? She frowned. “It’s not safe here.”

“It’s as safe as anywhere.” The paramedic spoke without looking at her. Or at least she hoped he was a paramedic. “We’ve secured the situation.”

They’d secured the situation
.

She didn’t get a chance to ask more questions, because the sirens’ volume increased before abruptly shutting off. Red and white lights played along the fence line. The ambulance was here.

It happened so fast. Too fast. One second she was struggling to her feet, and the next they were shutting the doors between her and Teague and tearing off down the street. Callie stood on the sidewalk, staring after the ambulance. She was supposed to be there, with him.

“Now, we really do need to talk, Ms. Sheridan.”

Talk. This man wanted to talk when the life of the man she loved—her
husband
—hung in the balance. She realized she was still holding a gun and turned it on him. “I don’t think so.”

Finch’s eyebrows rose. “Do you really think it’s wise to add to your body count tonight?”

No, but there was no room for wisdom when Teague needed her. She didn’t lower the gun. “Please take me to the hospital.”

“Ms. Sheridan—”

“You misunderstand me. That wasn’t a request.” There were other men around them, men who didn’t look too happy with her pointing a gun at what she suspected was the man in charge. She didn’t care. They hadn’t saved her just to gun her down in the street. “Where is your car?”

He pointed to a black sedan behind him. Typical. She motioned that she’d follow him. A few seconds later they were in the car and he turned on the engine. “Now, we’ll talk.”

“Drive.” She didn’t want to talk to this man. She didn’t want to talk to
anyone
. But she had the feeling Finch would get his way one way or another. “Why are you so eager to have a conversation?”

“You’re a very interesting woman. I’m kicking myself for overlooking you previously.”

She didn’t like the sound of that—at all. But she lowered the gun and leaned back against the car door. She could still shoot him, but that had never been the goal. All she wanted was to get to the hospital. “Why did you conveniently show up in time to save the day, but not earlier when you knew I’d been taken?”

“The wheels of bureaucracy turn slowly, my dear.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Your new husband is very important to me and my friends. I hope you understand and respect that.”

Shock and exhaustion and just plain old trauma made her slow, because it took her several long minutes to realize what he meant.
Oh Teague, why didn’t you tell me?
She wasn’t surprised, though. She hadn’t exactly been honest with him. It was only expected that he’d kept some things back as well.

But working with the FBI?

Then again, she didn’t exactly have room to talk.
She’d
put in a call to them for help. She found herself speaking without having any intention of doing so. “As much as I appreciate the assistance, stay away from my people, John Finch. Whatever arrangement you have with my husband is between the two of you, but if I hear about you sniffing around where you shouldn’t, I doubt either of us will like the results.”

He laughed, startling her. “Got some steel in your spine, don’t you? No wonder he was willing to throw it all away to save you.”

She didn’t ask what he meant. He was trying to bait her, and she wanted no part of it. “Do we have an understanding?”

“Oh, we do, indeed.” He turned muddy brown eyes on her, shifting between one breath and the next from the nonchalant jokester to something infinitely more dangerous. “Keep your people on the right side of the law, Ms. Sheridan, and we won’t have a problem.” He stopped the car. “Now, go see to your husband.”