That was a battle for another day.
Right now all that mattered was making sure James lived to see the dawn.
Chapter Twenty-Four
James breathed in the briny air and wished he was anywhere but here. The docks after dark had always set his teeth on edge. There were too many shadows and places to set up an ambush. That was why he’d sent Michael and a few handpicked men in earlier—to make sure things went off without a hitch. It didn’t help that it had started to snow a few minutes ago, the flakes quickly creating a curtain that further obscured his vision.
The van sat behind him, ready for its cargo. He kept reminding himself that these women would get a chance at a different life, but it didn’t do a damn thing to make him feel better. It was entirely too possible—likely, even—that they’d already seen abuse he could only imagine. That kind of thing left a mark on a person’s soul that a Band-Aid couldn’t touch.
But he could do his part to put them back on the path to freedom. It wasn’t enough, but he wasn’t a fucking superhero.
Ricky wandered around the van, whistling tonelessly. James wanted to tell him to shut the fuck up, but that meant admitting that it bugged him to begin with. His brother was still on his best behavior, which only made his paranoia increase with each passing hour.
He turned and watched the water, searching for the lights of the boat. He should have known better. When it came, it slipped through the snowfall soundlessly without a single beam to announce its presence. Several men jumped to the dock and tied it off, and then one broke away from the rest to approach. “You have the payment.”
James gestured to the bag at his feet. “The product?”
The man unzipped the bag and rifled through it before nodding. He whistled and made a sharp motion. The men spoke quietly, and then one of them grabbed a stumbling form and guided her down the dock to the van where Ricky waited. James caught a glimpse of her haggard face, eyes vacant, and had to fight back a shudder. Every single woman who passed him had that same expression on their face. He caught the man’s eye and jerked his chin. “Explain.”
“Opium.” The man shrugged. “They got riled up halfway through, so we did what we had to do. Shouldn’t be permanent damage.”
Questions pressed him. How long had they been in a forced opium-induced haze? When was the last time they ate? Drank? This man didn’t care, and James wouldn’t win himself any points for acting too concerned. He’d already decided that this wouldn’t be the last batch of women he purchased, and he needed the seller to be willing to work with him again. That meant not rocking the boat. Yet. As the last girl—twenty total—walked past him, he nodded. “Pleasure doing business with you.”
“Likewise.”
He waited for the men to climb aboard the boat and cast off before he made his way back to the van. The women huddled in the back, piled in like sardines. He started to reach for some kind of comforting bullshit to say, but they shrank from him as a single unit when his shadow darkened the door. Fuck. There wasn’t a damn thing he could say that they’d believe, and trying would only scare the shit out of them. He slammed the door shut. Lisa Marie would know the right way to go about this.
Carrigan would know what to do with them. She’s the one who had that idea for the nonprofit. I bet she’s got more ideas. He pushed the thought away. There hadn’t been time to figure out what the fuck he was going to do when it came to her. Letting her go wasn’t an option, not when he knew she cared about him. She wouldn’t have acted the way she did before if that wasn’t true. Keep your head in the game, Halloran. Now isn’t the time to get distracted.
He turned, and caught sight of the shiny barrel of the gun his brother held. James froze. That little motherfucker. “Ricky.”
“Sorry about this.” His brother laughed. “Actually, no I’m not. You’re a pussy, just like our old man always said you were. So I’m taking the Hallorans.”
Jesus Christ. He eyed the gun. His brother had made sure he was out of easy reach so he’d be able to pull the trigger before James could get to him. Smart. His own gun was in a holster around his ankle, also out of easy reach. Less smart. Damn it, he should have expected this. “Why don’t we talk about this?”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Ricky’s eyes were too wide. “You didn’t really think I’d let you lock me up for a fucking week, did you? You’re shit, and everyone but you sees it. I’m the one who deserves to run the Hallorans.” He motioned with the gun. “Get in the back.”