The Wedding Pact (The O'Malleys #2) (19 page)

But if all his legit businesses started to see the increase that Tit for Tat did…

It was something to think about. The Hallorans put so much evil out into the world. Maybe it was time for him to start balancing the ledgers.

He glanced at Carrigan again. What would she think of the so-called plan? Before he could think better of it, he said, “If you were going to buy up women from the flesh trade and set them free, how would you go about it?” He braced for her to look at him like he was crazy, but she just twined a strand of hair around her finger and frowned.

“That’d require a lot of resources if you wanted to make any kind of impact.”

“I know.” Resources he didn’t have access to without stooping to lows he promised himself he’d never touch.

She frowned harder. “And there’s the added complication that you’re just creating a demand for a very specific kind of product. You’d have to have something long term in place to take out the main players, otherwise it might actually contribute to the overall problem, rather than helping it.”

“I know.” He hadn’t thought that far ahead, but it was a valid point. He could ship in all the girls he wanted, but he’d just be ripping more women from their lives if he didn’t cut the head off the snake, so to speak.
For someone who doesn’t want responsibility to begin with, you sure as fuck attract it.
“I have something in mind.”

The night that his old man had been arrested had given him the idea. Someone on the other side had been in bed with the feds. While James wasn’t willing to go that far, he thought he could work something out where he threw them the information on the sellers he had and let them do their damn jobs.

If it had the added bonus of helping keep them off his back and out of Halloran business, well, he was okay with that, too.

“In that case…” Carrigan snapped her fingers. “Nonprofit.” When he motioned for her to continue, she shrugged. “They aren’t the simplest things to set up, and there’d be some serious challenges along the way—especially for a family like yours or mine—but as long as you kept the funds collected going exactly where they’re supposed to and aboveboard, it would be a valid option.”

Maybe for her. She moved in the circles of society who liked to whip out their checkbooks for that kind of thing. In his neighborhood, most everyone was struggling just to get by. “Hmm.”

She turned to face him fully. “Are you seriously considering something like that? I thought you guys dealt in the sex trade.”

“Sex trade is different than slave trade.” He knew he sounded furious, but it was hard to rein it in when he’d worked so fucking hard to get them out of it, only to have his brother trying to drag them back to hell. “I got us out of the involuntary flesh trade.”

“And now you’re thinking about getting back into it for different reasons.” Even in the moving shadows of his car, her green eyes saw too much. “You could make a serious difference, James. Even if you did it on a small scale, every person you save is a miracle.”

He couldn’t have her looking at him like that, like he was some kind of white knight or hero or some shit. He wasn’t. He was just a man who’d done more bad than good, a man who wanted to balance the scales in any way he could. “It probably wouldn’t work out anyway.”

“James…” She trailed off and turned back to look out the window. “I was going to offer to help, but I can’t promise anything with my current situation.”

Which was the exact thing he’d brought her out here to help her forget.
Great job, asshole.

He took the exit for York, and wound down to the little seaside town. It was a summer tourist spot, so it was nearly deserted this time of year, and the evening hour only added to that. Which was perfect. He didn’t have the patience to deal with other people right now. All he wanted was some one-on-one time with Carrigan away from Boston. He parked next to the beach and climbed out of the car.

She was out before he could come around to open the door for her, and she wasn’t looking at the ocean behind them. Instead, she was focused on the house at his back. “I know this house.”

If she’d spent any time looking at that album, she would. “It was my mother’s.” The only thing that had been hers and hers alone in her marriage with Victor. He didn’t know how she’d managed to pull that off, but he was grateful. She’d brought them up here—just her and her boys—for a few weeks each summer every year while they were growing up.

She’d passed it to James when she died.

He ignored the dull ache in his chest that always came with thoughts of this place. Some of the happiest times of his life had been spent in this little town, but they were all because of her. She could have taken them to a shack in the middle of the woods with no running water, and he still would have been in heaven.

“I haven’t been back here in something like twelve years.” Not since he’d come up here after he turned eighteen to set up a maid service to clean the place out once a month after his mother died.

He looked over when Carrigan took his hand and squeezed. “We don’t have to go in if you don’t want to.” Her shiver belied her words. She wasn’t dressed for the frigid winds coming off the water.

That got him moving more than anything. He kept a hold of her hand as they crossed the street and walked up the steps. The place still looked the same as it had when he was fourteen. He’d paid for repairs out of pocket as they came up—most recently it had been the roof that needed to be completely replaced. James unlocked the door and stepped back to let Carrigan precede him.

They moved through the entrance to the living room and kitchen, turning on lights as they went. It was like stepping into the past, the cheery beach decorations and bright colors still almost painful after all this time. She stopped in front of the mantel and touched a painting of three boys playing on the beach. None of their faces were visible, but he had no problem recognizing which was which.

“Your mother?”

“She said painting calmed her thoughts and she needed all the calm she could scrape up in a houseful of boys.” The bittersweet ache in his chest unraveled a little. His old man didn’t talk about Elizabeth Halloran, and James had learned pretty damn fast after her death that to bring her up was as good as asking for a beating. But his brothers didn’t want to talk about her, either. It seemed like the pictures of her had disappeared overnight—as if she’d been a figment of his imagination all along and he was the only one still clinging to it. This beach house was the only place left untouched, the only one that still bore the stamp of her years in this world.

James sat on the couch and ran his hand over the knotted afghan draped over the back of it. The thing had more holes than yarn. “She tried knitting, but she was terrible at it.” He smiled at the memory of her cursing up a storm as she finally threw it across the room. And how he’d picked it up and brought it back to her and told her that it was the most beautiful thing he’d seen. He’d been maybe all of ten.

“You don’t have to…”

“I know.” He looked around the room again, seeing the ghosts of so many good memories that he’d locked away. “I didn’t bring you out here to whine about my poor dead mother. This was just the one place I figured we could both sit down and breathe for a little bit.”

“So you didn’t bring me up here to seduce me.” She smiled as she sat next to him. “I’m horribly disappointed.”

“I think I could sneak in some seduction.” He tugged on her hand, pulling her to sprawl across his chest. It felt right to have her here in this place with the wind howling around the house and the memories of a time long gone around them. “Come out with me.”

She arched her eyebrows. “I hate to be the one to point this out, but I
am
out with you.”

“That’s not what I mean.” He paused and tried to figure out the best way to go about this. She hadn’t signed on for anything, let alone anything beyond sex. But seeing her sitting across the table from that kid tonight had really struck home how fucked up their situations had been since they met. He wanted a slice of normalcy, even if normalcy wasn’t
normal
. “Carrigan O’Malley, I’d like to take you on a date.”

Her eyebrows rose. “A date.”

“Yeah. The whole nine yards.”

“But not tonight.”

“Nope.” He brushed her hair back from her face. “Tonight I swept in and crashed your date with that idiot—you’re welcome, by the way—so it doesn’t count.”

Her lips twitched. “You are a very strange man, James Halloran.”

“Lovely, you have no idea.” He kissed her, soft and slow, taking his time because neither of them had anywhere to be, and fuck if he’d rush this. For the first time, he had her in a house with walls between them and the rest of the world—not the backseat of his car or, worse, the goddamn storage closet in a club. She went soft as he traced the seam of her lips with his tongue. He pulled back, framing her face with his hands. “Come to bed with me.”

Chapter Fourteen

C
arrigan couldn’t shake the feeling that this was about to change everything. She could get up and walk away, and he’d let her. She knew James well enough to know that now. Or she could say yes to his question that wasn’t a question and jump headfirst down the rabbit hole.

I only have a little less than two weeks left. What do I really have to lose?

Nothing.

But it still felt like a huge step when she nodded. “Yes.”

He didn’t move. “Yes?”

“Take me to bed, James.”

He grinned and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. Then he was up and sweeping her into his arms. She gave a startled shriek. “Hey!”

“Let me have my caveman ways.” He strode through the house, not bothering to turn on any more lights and not missing a step despite the shadows. He nudged open a door with his foot and kicked it shut behind them. She sent him a questioning look, which he answered. “Guest bedroom. I don’t think anyone used it in the entire time this place has been ours.”

He set her carefully on her feet. “Don’t move.”

His terse orders shouldn’t set fire to her blood. She hated orders in every other part of her life, so it didn’t make a damn bit of sense that when they came from James, she had to fight not to melt into a puddle at his feet. He turned on two lamps near the bed, bathing the room in a warm glow.

She took the opportunity to look around. There were more paintings on the walls—a large one of the turbulent ocean, a dark storm rolling in. Staring at it, Carrigan could almost taste the sea air and feel the wind on her face. His mother had been gifted. The other painting was of a lighthouse standing guard on a rocky coast. It made her think of James, standing alone against the world.

“You like them?”

“They’re beautiful.” It was enough to make her want to wander this house and see what other treasures she’d find. She turned and found James inches away, his blue eyes roaming over her hungrily.
Another time
. Her body flashed hot at the memory of what he’d done the last time they were alone. “Touch me.”

“Lovely, it would be my fucking pleasure.”

But he didn’t immediately reach for her. Instead, he circled her once and then stopped behind her. She tensed at the feel of his hands on the bare skin at the nape of her neck, but the tension fled as his thumbs dug into the tight muscles there. She bit her lip to keep from moaning.

“I thought so.” He stopped massaging her long enough to unzip the back of her dress and let it fall to the floor. Her bra quickly joined it, leaving her in only a pair of panties. “On the bed—facedown.”

Her body obeyed before her mind had a chance to catch up, but what was there to protest? He made her feel good time and time again. Tonight would be no different. Carrigan climbed onto the bed and settled facedown. The comforter was faded from countless washings and smelled faintly of lilacs. She turned her head and watched James strip, his gaze never leaving her body. He shrugged out of the leather jacket and tossed it onto the chair by the bed. Next came his T-shirt, shoes, and jeans. Each move was methodical and precise—and all the more erotic for it. The only thing he left on was a pair of boxer-briefs. His body was roped with muscle from long hours in the gym, but he’d stopped just short of it being overwhelming.

She frowned when he moved closer. There were
scars
on his chest. And not just a few. Nearly every inch of skin was covered with them. She’d felt the irregularities the last time they had sex, but she’d been too distracted to think about
why
his skin felt that way. Those weren’t fighting scars, either. They were too perfectly spaced. “James—”

“I’ve bared all the soul I’m going to tonight, lovely.” He climbed onto the bed and moved to straddle her hips. She started to turn over, but his hands on her shoulders stopped her. “Just relax. You need this as much as I do.”

The scent of lotion reached her, and then his hands were back on her skin, digging in and working out all the tightness in her muscles. This time she couldn’t fight back a moan. She’d known the man had magic hands, but apparently they extended beyond sex. He moved slowly over her, spending precious attention on every inch of her. By the time he reached the small of her back, she was boneless and would have agreed to damn near anything he’d asked of her.