Aiden made it all the way to his door before a thought occurred to him. “Brendan Halloran.”
His brother stopped. “What?”
“You responsible for that?”
He turned back. “You’ve got some goddamn nerve asking me that question with a straight face.”
Normally it never would have crossed his mind, but it was becoming increasingly clear that he’d been a hell of a lot more checked out than he’d realized. The ground had shifted beneath his feet, and he had no idea what the terrain would look like once things settled into place—or if he’d still consider Aiden on the side of angels.
Not that any of them could claim that. Not anymore.
And his brother still hadn’t given a direct answer. “Yes or no. I need to hear it from you directly.”
Aiden glared. “No.” Before Teague could relax, he went on, “Though I’d love to know who pulled the trigger so I can send them a fucking gift basket. Father was thinking about pushing Carrigan in his direction—until I looked into him.”
What the hell had Brendan been into that would give their father pause? The man really must have been a monster. Only something dire would make their father take him off the list for potential son-in-laws, given how advantageous it would be to merge their territory with the bordering Hallorans’.
And Callie had almost married him.
He shared a look with his brother, a moment of perfect understanding that was gone nearly as quickly as it’d come. Then Aiden was gone, too, closing the door softly behind him.
“Goddamn it.” Teague paced from one side of the room to the other, the movement doing nothing to calm him down. He was in the middle of a fight where he had no resources and not a single ally in his corner. How the fuck was he supposed to keep his younger siblings and Callie safe if he couldn’t even make his older brother listen to reason?
He dug his phone out of his pocket and dialed from memory. It would have been safer to grab a burner phone like he had every other time he’d called Finch, but he wasn’t in the mood to jump through those hoops. The man had some shit to answer for, and now was as good a time as any. It barely rang twice before Finch answered, “You shouldn’t be calling me from this phone.”
Teague didn’t ask how his private cell number was public information. It was the least of things they should know. “You know what’s going on with the Hallorans.”
It wasn’t a question but he answered anyway. “We’re aware of it.”
“Then why haven’t you done something?” For one of the most feared government agencies in the States, all they seemed to do was sit around with their thumbs up their collective asses.
“There are steps that have to be taken. You know that as well as I do.”
All he knew was that it was the same excuse they’d been feeding him for six months. It didn’t sit any better now than it had every other time he’d heard it. “If you’re not going to arrest someone—fine. But you need to get my sisters and Devlin out of here and into witness protection or some shit.” He’d ship off Callie if he thought for a second that she’d go, but at least if his sisters were safe he could focus his efforts on his fiancée. And Devlin…Of them all, Devlin alone had the ability to have a better life if someone just gave him the chance to get the hell away from the rest of the family.
“Now, son, I’ll see what I can do, but that kind of thing takes time.”
Another excuse. He resisted the urge to throw his phone across the room. “Make it take less time.” Teague hung up, adrenaline making him shake. He hated this shit, being helpless and relying on others to make things right. Hadn’t he learned a long time ago that the only way to get something done was to do it himself?
So the question remained—what would it take to bring this whole fucking mess to a standstill?
He poured himself a glass of whiskey, thinking hard. Victor Halloran might be one scary motherfucker, but he hadn’t crawled to the top of the food chain without having smarts to go with it—and war wasn’t smart no matter which way you looked at it. If he hadn’t just lost his son, he’d be more willing to let go of the insult of Callie marrying an O’Malley. The man had to want vengeance before anything else. Teague just had to position himself in a place where he could hand the old man his justice on a silver platter.
That meant he had to find Brendan Halloran’s killer.
Chapter Seven
Carrigan O’Malley waited for her brother to stalk past where she stood in the little nook outside the library, bathed in shadow. Teague didn’t see her there, just like Aiden hadn’t before him. She’d learned at a very young age that if she wanted to find out the unfiltered truth, she had to eavesdrop. She’d gotten pretty good at it since then, which led to all sorts of interesting—and terrifying—discoveries.