The Wedding Pact (The O'Malleys #2)(18)

The two men were anything but. Oh, they cleaned up well enough with their cheap suits, but there was no mistaking the glint in their eyes. Killers, both of them. What in the ever-loving fuck was Ricky doing meeting with these guys? They exchanged a look, and the man on the right, a redhead with hands the size of hams, leaned forward. “Since you didn’t seem to be aware of the meeting taking place, I’ll bring you up to speed. We’re not interested in the internal power games the Hallorans have going on—all we care about is getting paid.”

That was a relief, though he doubted he’d get lucky next time. “Then we’re on the same page. What’s the merchandise?”

Another shared look between the men. “We heard you were down on your inventory.” The redhead motioned at the club around them. “We have a crop hitting the harbor two weeks from now. They’re good stock, so we’re commanding top price.”

Girls. They were shipping in more girls, and Ricky had been Johnny-on-the-spot to buy them up. Just like Brendan used to. It was official—when James got his hands around his fool brother’s neck, he was going to strangle the fucking life out of him. They were out of the flesh trade.

But if he didn’t buy up these girls, some other piece of shit would.

For a second he almost let it go. It wasn’t his problem. He had more than enough to deal with without adding this to the mix. He eyed the men, both who James would bet had been in this business for years. They didn’t care if he agreed to this purchase. There were plenty of buyers, even in this day and age. If he turned them away, they wouldn’t blink at supplying someone else. Someone who would be more than willing to sell unwilling women to men who didn’t care about consent. Godfuckingdamn it. He smiled through gritted teeth. “Let’s talk money.”

As much as he wanted this done and over with, he took the time to haggle with the men. There was no telling if he would have to deal with them again, and it set a shitty precedent for him to give in to the first price they named without bargaining. But, fuck, he hated every second of it. By the time they settled on a price that was respectable but not insulting, he felt like he’d been hit by a truck. They arranged to have the merchandise dropped at an agreed-upon location on a date two weeks from now.

He watched the pair walk out of the office, and seriously debated grabbing the gun fastened beneath the desk and putting two slugs in each of them. It wouldn’t do a damn thing to help either the situation or how fucking filthy he currently felt. Slave traders were like cockroaches. You managed to kill one, and three more popped up in its place. Taking out these two wouldn’t help the girls on that boat coming in, or the ones that would undoubtedly follow.

Fuck. He pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing he could just douse himself in bleach and be done with it. He couldn’t save the world. Hell, he couldn’t even save his little corner of it. The best he could do was figure out some place for those girls where they weren’t forced to be little better than sex slaves. They would get a choice. They would have some sort of income from a job. He’d make sure of it.

But first he had to deal with Ricky.

James looked up to find his brother standing in the doorway, puffed up like he was ready for confrontation. Too fucking bad. He wasn’t going to get one. “Sit.”

“You can’t just—”

“Sit.” He didn’t raise his voice, but he didn’t have to. Ricky had been conditioned from a very young age to respond to that particular icy tone, just the same as James and Brendan. His older brother hadn’t ever bothered to learn the trick of speaking like that, because his sheer size and personality got his way more often than not. James was a firm believer of stocking his arsenal with every weapon available to him. Their father’s furious tone was one of them.

Ricky shut the door and dropped into one of the vacated chairs. “I was taking initiative.”

“You were trying to undermine me.” Again. He couldn’t let this go on any longer. He’d tried to reasoning with Ricky. He’d tried intimidating. He’d tried damn near everything. Nothing worked. Every time he turned around, his brother was doing something else to sow dissent and fuck up James’s life. The longer he let it go on, the weaker his position became.

God damn you for making me do this.

James typed out a text, never taking his gaze off his brother. “You know what happens next.”

Ricky’s blue eyes, so similar to his, went wide. “James—”

“Don’t you dare play the fucking innocent. You knew what you were doing—deal with the consequences.” The door opened again, and this time Michael and Jake came through, one of the other men James was reasonably sure of. They hauled Ricky out of his chair, and out of the room. To his credit, he didn’t yell or fight.