The Wedding Pact (The O'Malleys #2)(7)

Considering his old man, it was a pretty fucking accurate description.

Since he had no idea how long it would be, he got started on some paperwork that he’d been avoiding for far too long. Even illegal businesses needed records, and they had only just now gotten the tally for everything that was lost in the warehouse that the Sheridans destroyed four months ago.

If his old man had kept better books, they wouldn’t have had to trace all the shipments back to find out exactly what was missing. They wouldn’t have had to hold off three separate business deals until they could figure out if their partners were taking advantage of their lack of knowledge to screw with them. As a result, he’d had to spend far too much time behind this desk.

He fucking hated this desk.

Sometime later, the door opened and Michael came through, dragging Ricky behind him. James’s little brother was spitting mad, cursing like a sailor, and obviously drunk. Great. Michael didn’t say shit, just shoved Ricky into the room and disappeared through the door, shutting it firmly behind him.

Ricky glared at James. “What the fuck?”

“Want to try that again?” He’d learned a thing or two growing up in the tender care of Victor Halloran. Control was essential. The second he let someone know they’d gotten under his skin, he lost his position of power within the conversation. That went doubly so for his brother. Fear or love. Those were the only two things that forged loyalty, and his brother wasn’t showing a whole lot of either for him these days.

Ricky crossed his arms over his chest and raised his chin. “What. The. Fuck?”

So it was going to be like that. James pushed to his feet, slow and controlled, hating that his little brother flinched away from the movement. He deserved it after what he’d done, and the knowledge still stuck in his throat like a chicken bone. Knowing that he was doing what he thought best to keep his people from dying in a war that wouldn’t benefit anyone was the only thing that kept his remorse in check. “Where were you?”

“Didn’t know that I needed to check in with my keeper before I took a piss.”

He wanted to reach across the space between them and smack the shit out of the little idiot. Ricky was all posturing and no brains. He acted when he wanted to act, and didn’t stop to think of the waves his actions might cause. Tonight he might have just gone down to the pub with his boys. Or he could have just as easily decided to try for another drive-by in enemy territory. “Tell me. Now.”

For a second, he thought Ricky would push more, but something on his face must have scared his brother, because he finally muttered, “We took a drive through O’Malley territory, saw some shit, then went down to the pub for a few drinks.”

O’Malley territory—where Carrigan was once again living. The thought of something happening to her…James’s stomach gave a funny leap that had him clenching his teeth. “Saw what shit?”

“Dunno.” A belligerent shrug. “One of their bitches walking down the street. Thought about picking her up, but she was gone before we could.”

He made an effort to relax his muscles. There was no way of knowing if it was Carrigan they saw, but there was no reason to think either of her sisters would be wandering about unescorted on the same night he knew she’d been out. It was too much to hope for a convenient coincidence.

James sat down and folded his hands on the massive desk. “Stay out of their territory.”

“But—”

“I didn’t fucking stutter, Ricky. Stay out of their territory or you’ll damn well wish you did.”

His brother stared at him for a long time, and James held the look, waiting to see what he’d do. There was a confrontation coming, whether he liked it or not. When Ricky cursed and marched out of the room, slamming the door behind him, James allowed himself a silent sigh of relief.

Yeah, there was a confrontation coming for sure. Thank Christ it wasn’t coming tonight.



Carrigan woke up to knocking on her door. She blinked at the clock and mentally cursed. Seven a.m. Everyone in the family knew that it was running the risk of death to wake her up before eight, but the knocking hadn’t abated. She cursed again—this time aloud—and struggled out of bed. It took her a few minutes to find a nightgown to drag on, but she wasn’t about to answer the knock while naked. Good thing, too. Liam stood on the other side of her door, his face carefully blank as he stared at some point over her shoulder. “Your father requests your presence.”

It wasn’t a request and they both knew it. But it also wasn’t Liam’s fault that Seamus O’Malley liked to haul his children before him at the most inconvenient time. She smoothed her hair back. “I don’t suppose I have time to get ready?” He might be her father, but she didn’t like having these talks without her full armor in place. Ten minutes after waking up meant there was no chance of that…something her father had no doubt considered when he sent his favorite muscle up here to wake her.