The Wedding Pact (The O'Malleys #2) (15 page)

“Dmitri Romanov.”

She blinked. She’d expected someone Russian from the name, but he sounded…She shook her head. “This is Carrigan O’Malley. I’ve been given to understand you’re interested in linking your assets to my father’s.” Such a careful way of prettying up what this really was—her father selling her off to further his business.

“You understand correctly.”

“I’d like to meet with you, this afternoon if possible.” Knocking off two of the names today would keep her busy—and keep her mind off James.

Dmitri chuckled. “I’ll clear my schedule. Shall I meet you at three?”

“That would be perfect.” This Dmitri didn’t sound like the type of man to paw at her uninvited, so there was absolutely no reason she should so much as talk to James today. Good.

“I look forward to meeting you, Carrigan.” His accent gave her name an exotic roll, and she couldn’t stop a shiver.
Damn
. “Enjoy your day.” And then he was gone, leaving her feeling vaguely unsettled.

Dmitri Romanov wasn’t a man to be underestimated.

She frowned. They’d exchanged a handful of words. He’d canceled his plans to meet her. There was absolutely nothing in what he’d said that should be making her skin twitch like she was surrounded by danger she couldn’t see.
So why is my stomach in knots and my heart beating too hard?
She set her phone down next to her on her bed. Growing up in the house of a powerful and ruthless man, it made sense that some part of her instinctively recognized it in this stranger, even over the phone. That had to be it.

Chauncey had been a pig. She got the feeling that Kellen was a puppy. Dmitri…well, Dmitri was something else altogether.

A knock on her door was all the warning she got before her mother swept into the room, her dark hair perfectly styled, her makeup flawless, and her pantsuit looking like she was ready for brunch. Aileen took in the space with a critical eye, and finally settled on Carrigan. “You had a date last night with one of your father’s candidates.”

It was a fight to keep her face perfectly bland. She could still feel him pawing at her, and the anger over his asshole commentary hadn’t dimmed with time. Her interlude with James had made the memory bearable, but she wouldn’t hesitate to knock that slimy fuck on his ass again if she ever was forced into his presence. “Yes. Chauncy Chauncer.”

Her mother made a face. “New money.” As if that summed up everything worth knowing about him. Unfortunately, she wasn’t wrong in this particular case. She moved to the dresser and started straightening the pictures there. “How did it go?”

“He’s no longer in the running.”

Aileen looked over sharply. “What did he do?”

She should have known that her mother would pick up on the underlying anger that Carrigan still couldn’t shake. Every time she so much as thought Chauncey’s name, a slow-burning rage rolled through her. He’d insulted her, and then he’d touched her without permission—
assaulted her.
She picked at a nonexistent thread on her comforter. “He had problems taking no for an answer.”

It wasn’t something she’d ever admit aloud to her father but, as rarely as she and Aileen saw eye to eye, she knew her mother would understand
this
. Sure enough, her perfectly lipsticked mouth tightened. “You took care of it.” There wasn’t any doubt on her face that Carrigan was more than capable of putting the pig in his place.

“I got my point across.” She just wished she’d hit him again. Or kicked him while he was down. Her shoulders tightened at the memory of him shoving her against the wall. “He’s a fool, so I doubt it had any lasting effect, but he won’t be touching
me
again.”

“Good.” Aileen hesitated and then went back to straightening pictures. “You’ll let me know if you need to take further actions.”

Even if she didn’t, her mother would find out anyway. She might not be as flashy about it, but Aileen had as many—if not more—people reporting to her as Seamus did. “Of course.”

“Good. Now that that’s taken care of, show me this list of your father’s.”

She handed it over because there really was no other option. Besides, even though her mother was as willing to sell her off as her father was, at least Aileen would take more factors into account than just his potential alley value.
I should have asked her
before going out with Chauncey
. The realization had her straightening her spine. She’d made a mistake. Maybe this would help her to keep from repeating it.

I don’t want any of them, though. There’s no way they can make me feel as good as James does
.

She shut that thought down
real
fast. But it was no use. It wormed its way into the back of her brain, its presence small but nagging all the same. It didn’t matter how good the sex was with James, or how he never seemed to react the way she expected during their conversations. Even if she’d been willing to consider…
anything
…with him, it was a moot point.

He wasn’t on the list.

End of story.

Aileen picked up the paper, a tiny line appearing between her brows as she looked it over. “Take both the Marrow boy and Atcherberg off the list. I can’t believe your father would stoop so low.” Her green eyes flashed. “Marrow just buried his third wife. And Atcherberg has a gambling problem that is already beggaring his family.”

She didn’t ask how her mother knew these things. There was no point when she was, in all reality, most likely right. Carrigan fought back a sigh. “Then my potential list is down from six to three.” After today it would shrink even further. She looked at her mother, all the things she couldn’t say pressed against the inside of her lips.
Please don’t make me do this. Please don’t make me marry some stranger to further the family’s interests. Please, please, please
. It was a little girl’s cry into the dark, begging the monster not to be real.

If Aileen saw what she was thinking—and the way she pressed her lips together said she sure as hell did—she ignored it. She set the list back on Carrigan’s bed. “That will make things simpler. Now, this wasn’t why I came looking for you.” She straightened and smoothed her hands over her perfectly pressed green dress. “You haven’t been in to get the final fitting for your bridesmaid’s dress yet.”

The wedding. Of course. She should have known it wasn’t concern for her well-being that had her mother searching her out. These days everything seemed to boil down to Teague and Callie’s wedding. “I’m surprised you need me in there at all. Don’t you know our measurements by heart?”

“Carrigan, don’t be cheeky. The wedding is a little over a week away. Make it a priority. I won’t have you in an ill-fitting dress.”

Since the wedding was more about what her mother wanted than what Callie wanted, she’d take it as a personal insult if Carrigan didn’t do exactly as instructed. She glanced at the clock beside her bed. “It’ll have to be this afternoon, then.” She’d take care of it after her date with Dmitri.

“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 crazy, 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.