The Wedding Pact (The O'Malleys #2)(88)
He’d gotten a text from Aiden this morning telling him that Carrigan had basically been handed off to Dmitri Romanov—who was, as far as he could tell, the same Dmitri who had chatted him a little over two week ago. He knew he hadn’t given the bastard anything then, knew that it was ultimately his father who made the decision that treated his sister like a piece of furniture, knew that there wasn’t a damn thing he could have done to stop it.
It didn’t matter.
Hate the man or not, he’d seen James Halloran’s face when Aiden shook Carrigan. The guy loved her, or cared about her so much it was the same damn thing. If Aiden had shaken her again, James would have thrown out their tentative peace without a second thought.
That, more than anything else, had stayed with Cillian over the last few days. No one in their family put personal health and happiness above the needs of the O’Malleys as a whole. It just wasn’t how shit went down. Up until Teague’s wedding, he would have said the Hallorans were the same way—worse, really.
And he’d have been wrong.
There isn’t a damn thing I can do to help her. Just like I couldn’t help Devlin.
“You keep looking at the drink like that, it’s going to curdle.”
He glanced up to find Olivia standing on the other side of the bar, and hell if she wasn’t even more striking up close. Her dark eyes were damn near black and held secrets he could only guess at. What was this woman’s story? Benji usually hired guys because apparently he’d had enough bad past experiences with female bartenders to make him gun-shy. This woman had to be something special for the big man to have made an exception. “Maybe I like my drinks curdled.”
“Sure you do.” Her mouth tightened.
“You know, I might not be the most charming guy around, but I’ve never had a woman decide she despises me at first sight like you apparently have.” And if he was going to be coming in here like he normally did, being hated by a bartender that Benji obviously adored was going to be seriously uncomfortable. He put his best smile on. “If you let me know what I did to piss you off, I’ll do what I can to avoid it in the future.”
If anything, her expression only got more annoyed. “You’re right. You’re not charming.”
He sat back. “That wasn’t an answer.”
“Maybe I just don’t like the look of you.” She waved a hand to encompass all of him. “With your fancy haircut, expensive suit, and I’m-a-bad-boy tattoos. You’re the kind of man who thinks he owns the world.”
Cillian snorted. “Hardly.”
“I know your type.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter if you agree with me or not. If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it’s most likely a duck. And I’d bet my last dollar that you’re a duck.”
His phone rang, saving him from coming up with a response to her absurd assumption. Or is it really that absurd? You’re trouble and you know it. If she’s smart enough to recognize it on sight and avoid it, who the fuck are you to blame her for it? He pulled out his phone and frowned when he saw Teague’s number. “Hey.”
“Where are you?”
“Beacon Hill.” He wasn’t about to tell Teague he was in the same bar they’d been in the night Devlin died. He wouldn’t understand. Worse, maybe he actually would.
“Carrigan’s in trouble.”
He bit back the instinctive response to throw her whatever-the-fuck-it-was with James Halloran in his brother’s face. Hadn’t Cillian just been thinking that she didn’t deserve to be passed off to the Russian when it seemed like Halloran really had feelings for her? “What kind of trouble?”
“The kind where she’s in over her head enough to call for help.”
Considering their sister had never hesitated to take care of her own problems, that meant something bad. He straightened. He might not like the idea of her with Halloran, but she was still his big sister. There was no going back in time and saving Devlin, but if he could help Carrigan, then maybe that would do something to start to balance his karmic debt. “When and where do you need me?”
“My apartment, and as soon as you can get there.”
He was already reaching into his pocket for his cash. “Consider it done.” He hung up to find the pretty bartender watching him, a frown on her face. “Careful there, you frown like that often enough and your face is going to stick in that expression.” He tossed the money on the bar and walked away, the sound of her sputtering behind him making him smile despite the clusterfuck he was most likely walking into.