The Marriage Contract (4 page)

To keep herself from staring at him, she watched as people righted chairs and slowly settled back into whatever they’d been doing before the screaming started. Some of them looked worried, but the others cast their glances at the head table and took their cues from her and Teague’s fathers. They wouldn’t leave—wouldn’t show dreaded weakness—until the party was over.

“It’s idiocy to stay here when we know there’s danger.”

“It is.” He shrugged those big shoulders. “But these people are scavengers. The second they smell weakness, they’ll stop fearing us and it will be complete chaos.”

She knew that. Truly, she did. But it was such a fine line to travel, and they were on the wrong side of it tonight.
At least there are some precautions in place now.
“There has to be a better way.”

“If you figure it out, be sure to let me know.”

She finished the whiskey, and decided it didn’t taste half as bad as that first drink. “Things will be different when…” When her father was gone. She clamped her lips shut before the traitorous words could escape. God, what was she talking about? She loved Papa, loved him dearly. She didn’t want to see him dead any more than she’d wanted to see her beloved brother, Ronan, gone. How could she possibly
think
such a thing, let alone almost say it aloud?

It had to be the whiskey. She set the tumbler onto the table with a little too much force and pushed it away from her. “I need some air.”

“Of course.” He started to guide her, but Seamus stepped in their way.

“One more announcement.”

“Father, enough.”

Just like that, the thin veil of civility on his father’s face disappeared as if it’d never been. “Sit your ass in that chair before I put you there. And you, be a good girl and do the same.”

Be a good girl.
She started to take a step forward, but Teague dragged her back and guided her into her seat. “Now’s not the time.”

Callie was pretty sure it was the perfect time, but she wasn’t far gone enough not to realize that was the whiskey talking. So she let Teague keep her hand and did as she was told, all while silently promising to wipe that satisfied smirk off Seamus O’Malley’s face at the first available opportunity.

The man in question stood and motioned for silence. “We apologize for the confusion, but there is nothing to worry about.” He smiled, once again every inch the doting father figure. “We would like to cordially invite you to the wedding in four weeks’ time.”

The room took a slow spin around Callie before settling into place. Four weeks.
Four weeks?
She’d known what she was signing up for, but that was so soon. From the shocked look on Teague’s face, he hadn’t known about the timeline, either.

As the people around her clapped, she couldn’t shake the fact that she’d just tipped past the point of no return.

T
eague walked Callista to her town car, painfully aware of the people surrounding him. They needed a moment to just sit and have a conversation, but that wasn’t happening tonight—especially with the potential war hanging over their heads. He stopped her just before she climbed into the car. “Come out with me tomorrow. Just us.”

She hesitated, an expression passing over her face that might have been fear. “I don’t know.”

Was she afraid of him? He shook his head. Of course she was. She was a smart woman, and she’d known him only a grand total of a single night. Smart women weren’t in a hurry to jaunt off with strange men—especially when they came with a reputation that attached itself to anyone in the O’Malley family. “Just dinner, angel. In public. You can meet me there.”

She relaxed a little. “We do need to talk.”

Without everyone and their dog standing here, watching them like predators looking for weakness. It shouldn’t be that way—every single person was either family or associated with the family—but Teague stopped railing at the unfairness of the world a long time ago. “Yes, we do.”

“Call me and we’ll set something up.” She rattled off a number, and then she was gone, sliding into the car and shutting the door firmly behind her.

He watched her drive away, before turning to his older brother. “They need an escort.”

“Already taken care of.” Aiden grinned. “You like her.”

Yeah, he did. But he wasn’t fool enough to admit it now—or ever. Instead, he headed back inside, barely making it three steps before his younger brother waylaid him. Cillian had gone all out tonight, but he’d lost his suit jacket at some point, and the dress shirt was rolled up, revealing the tattoos covering his arms. “You’re a lucky bastard.”

Cillian would see it that way. At twenty-five, he was still dabbling in school and finding himself or some shit. Since he was the third son and fourth child, he had been coddled and spoiled all his life. He wouldn’t escape his responsibilities to the family indefinitely, but he hadn’t yet started to feel the weight of it bearing down on him. Not like Teague had.

Tonight that weight might finally win and crush him on the spot.

“I saw her once last spring, out dancing down at Furies, though she was looking even better tonight.” Cillian sighed. “Those moves? I bet she can ride a d—”

“You’re going to stop talking now.” He didn’t give a fuck how well she moved on the dance floor, and he sure as hell had bigger things to worry about now than how she’d rolled her body against his earlier. But it was more than that. Before tonight, Callista was just another Sheridan. An enemy. Now that he’d seen her—talked to her—he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were the only two people in a foxhole, with enemies all around them.

Cillian’s eyes went wide and he backed up. “Sorry, man. I just meant that if you have to have the old ball and chain, she’s not a bad one to be trapped with.”

“No, she’s not.” He straightened as Seamus approached, flanked by his favorite muscle—Liam and Mark. “Do we have any more information?”

“Not as of yet. But we will.” Seamus nodded at Liam. “Find out who’s responsible.”

It would have been smarter to work with Sheridan on this and combine their forces, but this marriage was more about presenting a unified front to their potential enemies than actually
being
a unified force. But at least tonight would leave no doubts—an attack on one was like an attack on both. It was enough to make Teague so damn exhausted—or it would if Callista wasn’t in danger.

He never thought the day would come when he’d put himself out for someone who didn’t share his blood, but the thought of her with a target painted on her chest made his hands curl into fists and his eyesight bleed to red.
It’s because we’re getting married. To hurt her is to hurt something that’s mine
. He almost snorted.
Liar.

Seamus focused on him. “Don’t do anything to fuck this up. If it’s the Hallorans, I’ll take care of them.”

Easier said than done. If it were so simple to dispatch them, someone would have done it years ago. “At least tell me that you’re not going to strike back before you confirm that Halloran did this.”

When his father didn’t say anything, Teague rocked back on his heels. Christ, he wasn’t going to listen to reason. He met Aiden’s eyes, but there would be no help on that front. There never was. The only thing he could do was to get his sisters and Devlin home safe so at least they wouldn’t be hurt by whatever bullshit plan Seamus was about to enact. No matter what his father thought,
his
priorities were on the family.

He turned and headed for the exit, thinking back to Finch. Had the man known it would come to an all-out war? If he did, he could have given a goddamn warning. No one died tonight—so far. Next time, Teague doubted they would be that lucky. It might start with innocent bystanders, but it was only a matter of time before it escalated into pinpointed attacks on the people he cared most about in this world.

There had to be a way to stop this before it got to that point.

He climbed into the car that was filled with his sisters and youngest brother. They looked at him with varying degrees of trust, like they were sure that with him here, things were under control. The very idea was insane. Teague had less control over his life than they did. Or at least he had as little control.

Carrigan pulled her hair back and started twisting it into a braid, the only outward sign of her nerves. “Well?”

“They don’t know anything concrete.” He braced himself as the car lurched into motion. “Father wants us home until he figures out the next move.” The man hadn’t said as much, but he wasn’t about to tell any of them that they were so far from their father’s mind that he didn’t leave any instructions for them before heading off.

Keira huddled next to Sloan, and it struck him that his baby sister had turned eighteen this year. They were all legally adults, and yet had less control over the direction their lives took than most minors. Keira turned green eyes so like their mother’s on him. “We’re going to war, aren’t we?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to lie. To save them some worry. But he didn’t have it in him to shield them from a truth they’d have to face before too long.

He was saved from answering by Devlin. “There’s no avoiding it now.”

The only question was if the war itself was started by the Hallorans, or if whatever actions Seamus took tonight would be the tipping point. It didn’t really matter. They’d had skirmishes before, over territory or product, but this was another animal entirely, and no one seemed that worried that there were bound to be casualties.

For her part, Keira didn’t seem that worried. “Good.”

Teague frowned. “Why the fuck is that good?”

“It means Father isn’t going to marry us off to one of the other two Hallorans like Callista Sheridan almost was. Do you really think no one knew about how Brendan got his rocks off? To be married to that…” She shuddered. “Whoever did us the favor of killing him probably saved her life.”

“You’re eighteen. What the hell would you know about it?”

Carrigan laughed, the sound as jagged as broken glass. “Please. Not everyone has the luxury of being able to take off to their apartment whenever things get rough.”

Sloan finally spoke up. “We know what value our father puts on us.”

Christ. This was exactly the thing he’d wanted to save them from. He looked from one face to the other. “I’d take you away with me if I could. All of you.”

“We know.” Sloan patted his knee. “It’s not your fault, Teague.”

The fact that
she
was comforting
him
about her future stuck in his throat. “I’ll find a way out of this—for all of us. I promise.” He’d given Finch enough information to justify witness protection or some shit. If it wasn’t enough, he’d find a way to supply more. Because the thought of one of his sisters ending up with a man like Brendan Halloran was reputed to be…Teague would do unforgivable things to keep that from happening. He was
already
doing unforgivable things—he might as well make it worth his while.

Carrigan just shook her head like he’d said something sweet but unbelievably stupid. “There’s no escape for people like us, little brother.”

Callie spent the day trying to pin down Papa into telling her
something
about what he’d found out about the shooting, but he was closeted in his office all morning and then gone from the house all afternoon.

She’d done some holing up of her own with Micah. Whatever came from this conflict, she wanted to make sure the people in their territory who depended on them for protection were taken care of. Micah had grown up in this life, the same as she had, so he understood. His father had been one of
her
father’s most loyal men, until he’d died in a shootout with the MacNamaras’ men. As a result, Papa brought both Micah and his mother into the family home—his way of honoring his fallen man.

That loyalty wasn’t something that could be picked up and put down at the Sheridans’ convenience. If they couldn’t keep their people safe, they didn’t deserve the territory they had.

They were currently camped out on high stools, just like they used to when they were teenagers, while Micah’s mother puttered around the kitchen. She’d taken to the space when she’d first moved in here and made it her own. Even Papa didn’t dare cross her when it came to this room of the house. Emma Jones was a force of nature in her own right.

Micah braced his elbows on the granite counter. “You can’t bring every person loyal to your family into this house, Callie. You know that.”

Yes, she knew that, but it didn’t make the impulse disappear. She frowned at him. “What other option do I have? Patrolling the territory won’t do a damn bit of good. We don’t have enough men to keep an enemy out, so it’s a waste of resources.”

Micah’s dark eyes saw too much. “You’re not solely responsible for this. Colm will have some thoughts, I’m sure.”

Yes, Papa would, if she could just corner him long enough to
talk
. She’d suspect he was avoiding her if there wasn’t so much else going on. Still, she didn’t like being left out of the loop. Callie traced the dark-veined pattern of the countertop with a single finger. “They’re our people.”

“And they knew what they signed up for.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “But I’ll talk to the men about getting a few extra patrols out until we figure something else out.”

It wasn’t enough, and they both knew it. But it was better than nothing. “Okay.”

He stood. “Don’t you have a date to get ready for?”

Emma chose that moment to swoop in with a plate of toast. “Eat something before you go, Miss Callie.” She straightened her apron and gave Callie a stern look. “You’re so nervous, you’re jumping at shadows and God alone knows you won’t be eating while you’re out with this O’Malley boy. This will settle your stomach.”

Since her stomach was currently tied up into a maze of knots, she wasn’t sure she could manage even the light snack. But she’d learned a long time ago that Emma was usually right about these things, so she dutifully picked up a piece of toast and took a bite.

Emma nodded. “Good. And you—” She pointed a dark finger at her son. “You watch our Callie’s back tonight. You keep her safe.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Micah ducked his head. “It’d be easier to do if she wasn’t slipping her guard every time I turned around.”

“Stop trying to get me into trouble with your mother.” When he just raised his brows, she glared. “I shouldn’t have even told you about going out with Teague tonight.”

“If you hadn’t, then I would have had to track your ass down, and gotten
my
ass reamed for letting you drive off without an escort.”

“Micah! Language.”

“Sorry, Mama.” He nodded at the door. “Callie, go get dressed up. Knock that O’Malley bastard’s socks off—sorry again, Mama—and see what his family is up to while you’re at it.”

She laughed, even though her stomach did a slow turn at another go-round with Teague. “I’ll be sure to get all his dirty little secrets.” She grabbed the plate and stood. “I’ll bring this back down when I’m done.”

“Thank you, Callie.” Emma’s dark eyes, so similar to her son’s, were sympathetic. “You try to have a good time tonight, you hear?”

“I’ll do my best.” As soon as she left the safe haven of the kitchen, all the fears that had been plaguing her rushed back to the forefront of her mind.

Where had Papa been all day?

She dreaded finding out what he’d been up to. Or, rather, what he’d commanded his men to get up to. This was a significant step in the wrong direction. Worse, it was all her fault. If she hadn’t gone looking for Brendan, things never would have gotten so out of control, and he’d still be alive.

God, the realization that she was the cause of his death was still almost enough to have her running for the bathroom.

Would it get better over time? A small part of her almost hoped that it wouldn’t, because that would mean she was different from her father and every Sheridan who’d come before her. Papa wasn’t one to brag about his kills, but Ronan used to huddle down with Callie and whisper about the things he heard Papa’s men talking about. The same man who’d taught her how to ride a bike was also a man who’d killed dozens of people in the name of business and revenge. She still had problems reconciling the two, even though she’d seen more glimpses of that side of him in the last few months than she had in all the twenty-five years leading up to it.

She shivered, the small hairs on the back of her neck standing at attention. Callie turned a slow circle after she shut her bedroom door, but there was no one in the room except her. “Someone just walked over my grave.” She shivered again.

Nothing good would come of this—any of it.

Which was exactly why she’d agreed to go to dinner with Teague tonight. They needed to have a meeting of minds and see if they could come up with a way to get this runaway train back under control. She had a feeling that, left to their own devices, the patriarchs of the three families would be only too happy to set Boston aflame to serve their own purposes.