Chapter 21 Teague held Callie as she struggled. "It's me. Don't scream, angel. It's me." She finally went still, and he allowed her to turn in his arms to face him. "Teague?" Carrigan slipped next to them. "You're about an hour too late, but I'll forgive you if you get us out of here without anyone being shot." She turned as Aiden ghosted up next to them. "You too?" "Contrary to what you believe, I do care." "Whatever." If he let them, they'd end up in a full-out argument right here in the middle of Halloran property. "Let's go." Teague turned without waiting for an answer. The trees weren't spaced closely together, but they were large and cast strange shadows. If they were careful, they should be able to get out of here before his father and Colm Sheridan attacked. Even as the thought crossed his mind, gunfire sounded from somewhere close by. He spun on Aiden. "We're supposed to have another hour." "Don't look at me. I didn't know shit about this." He realized he was still holding Callie and forced himself to let go. "We do this quick and quiet. I'll take the lead. Aiden will bring up the rear. You move when I move." Both women nodded, which was a token of just how scared they were. Fuck, he was scared, too. If he got this close and lost either one of them? It was unthinkable. He checked the surrounding area, but there wasn't a bit of movement, though the sounds of fighting were growing by the second. It was now or never. He squeezed Callie's hand and then darted out into the open area, nearly sprinting to the next tree. Silence. He turned back as Callie followed his movement exactly-a quick rush from one tree to the next. And then Carrigan. Teague moved as soon as his sister reached him, rushing to the next tree. Again, silence. This is too easy. Why aren't there more guards out back? If I were Victor Halloran, I'd- Gunshots, this time far too close. He whirled around in time to yank Callie to his chest as a spotlight shone on the gap between the two trees she'd just run through. A man yelled, "I see you, you little bitch. You're not going to make it to the property line." Teague didn't recognize the voice, but Callie flinched. Obviously she knew who spoke. He wanted to ask her, to reassure her that she wasn't being taken back there again, but it was false comfort at best. Instead, he leaned around her. The harsh light gave him a clear view of his siblings despite their cover behind the tree. They couldn't stay here. It was only a matter of time before men came to flush them out-right into the path of that gun. Aiden knew that as well as he did. He jerked his thumb in the opposite direction. All those childhood games of hide-and-seek in their Connecticut home, teaming up against the girls, came in handy now. He and Aiden had been speaking without words for years. His brother would take Carrigan in the opposite direction, splitting the enemy. It didn't magically make their odds good, but bad was still better than suicidal. He nodded. God go with you, brother. With effort, he put the fate of his siblings aside. He couldn't afford to be distracted right now-not with Callie's life in his hands. Teague pulled a second gun from his ankle holster. "I trust you know how to use this?" She checked to make sure it was loaded, and slammed the clip back into place. "Your sense of humor is suspect." "That's what everyone keeps telling me." Despite the situation, he grinned. "I missed you, angel." "I... I missed you, too." "And if you ever think of trying some shit like this again-" She pressed her fingertips to his lips. "Can we talk about this when we aren't in danger of being killed?" "If you insist." He kissed her, light and quick, and then turned to survey their options. The fence was a few short yards away. There was every chance that there were more men on the other side of it, but as long as they were on this side, they were sitting ducks. He motioned. "I don't suppose you can climb that?" "Give me a boost and I can." It would slow them down, but there wasn't any other option. "Okay. Count of three." A shout went up behind them and someone opened fire. He glanced back to find Aiden and Carrigan pelting away from them. "Three!" She flew next to him, keeping up easily. He hit the fence first and went down on one knee. "Up." She didn't hesitate to put her foot into his cupped hands. He lifted with all his strength, regretting her startled yelp as she soared over him, but there was no time for courtesy. He barely waited for her hands to disappear off the top of the fence when he jumped, grabbing the rough wood and hauling himself to the top. Pain blazed through his side, almost sending him toppling back into the Hallorans' yard. He clung to the fence, gritting his teeth. Fuck, fuck, goddamn it, that hurt. It took all his strength to fall on the right side-the street side. Teague hit the ground hard enough to drive what little air he'd retained from his lungs. He wheezed out a breath and rolled onto his back, his entire world made up of a red haze of pain. Instantly, Callie was next to him, concern in every line of her body. She lifted a hand and gasped. "You're bleeding." "I think... I was shot." He managed to get a breath in, but the sheer agony of it made him regret his decision. Did he really need to breathe? Voices sounded on the other side of the bushes shielding them. "They came over around here somewhere." "They couldn't have gotten far." He tried to keep his harsh breaths quiet, but it was nearly impossible. He was vaguely aware of Callie shifting her stance on the gun in her hands. She touched his chest, though whether it was in comfort or warning, he couldn't say. The bushes in front of them parted, and she raised the gun. The man's startled yelp was cut off halfway through, the shot knocking him back. She looked sick but determined. "You can't run, but you need to move. I'll draw them away-" He grabbed her arm with all the strength he had left-a pathetically small amount. "Don't you fucking dare. You did the noble thing once..." An agonized breath. "No more." "They will finish what they started and kill you." He wasn't sure what clued him in. It might have been a scuff of a shoe on pavement. Or maybe the slightest shifting somewhere below the level of consciousness. It didn't matter. He yanked Callie down on his chest a second before shots fired, biting the fence where her head had just been. She rolled off him almost immediately, aiming once again, but she didn't pull the trigger. "What if I kill someone in the building across the street?" "Empty," he gasped. "You're sure?" Her voice wasn't anywhere near calm, but her hands were steady. "Yes." She didn't ask again. She shot once, twice, a third time, and whoever was on the other side of the bushes gave a pained cry and sounded like he crumpled to the ground. She glanced at him. "We need to move." "I know." But he suspected he couldn't. His thoughts were fuzzy, and he wasn't sure if that was the pain level or the blood loss. She knew it. Damn it, he could see it in her eyes. Callie dropped the gun and yanked her sweatshirt off. He didn't have the strength to cry out when she pressed it against his side with all her might. "Don't you dare die on me, Teague O'Malley." Spots danced in front of his eyes that had nothing to do with it being night. "I love you." Then the blackness swallowed him whole. Callie knew the moment he passed out. She wasn't sure if it was because of the pressure she was putting on his still-healing ribs or because of blood loss, but she dearly hoped it was the former. As long as they didn't puncture anything, broken ribs wouldn't kill him. A gunshot wound surely would. A car pulled up on the street near them. She cocked her head to the side, tracking its movement as it stopped and the doors opened. This was it. There was no escape for either of them. By her count, she only had five or six shots left, and to grab her gun, she'd have to take her hands off Teague's wound. Since the fabric was already wet with his blood, she couldn't afford to do that. She closed her eyes. I don't know if you're listening, God. I've made a grand mess of this. But spare Teague. He never asked for any of this. A silly, foolish prayer. "Callista Sheridan?" She tensed. Of course they knew her name. That wasn't as surprising as the fact that they were yelling at her instead of shooting first. But then, they'd want their entertainment, wouldn't they? Couldn't have that if she was dead. "Ms. Sheridan, my name is John Finch. I'm with the FBI. You placed a call to my office earlier today." She blinked. There was no way the Hallorans could know that... but was it a risk she was willing to take? They could be lying, waiting for her to run out into the open and then gunning her down. She looked at Teague. It was hard to tell in the shadows, but he looked scarily pale. He needed a doctor, and quickly. So she took a leap of faith. "I have an injured man here. He's been shot." "We're coming to you." He hesitated. "Please try to resist shooting any of my men." She highly resented the amusement in his voice. There was nothing amusing about this situation. Nothing at all. "Get in here." S~ᴇaʀᴄh the Fɪndηovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The bushes parted and two men rushed to her. She tensed, waiting for the bullets to tear through her flesh, but they just shouldered her aside and knelt next to Teague. "Bullet wound to the upper chest. He'll need surgery and an immediate transfusion." The other turned to her. "We have an ambulance en route." This turn of events was nearly impossible to wrap her head around. She'd hoped her contingency plan would work-God, of course she'd hoped-but it was still too good to be true. A third man appeared and offered her a hand. "If you'll come with me, please?" He sighed when her gaze tracked back to Teague. "Mr. O'Malley will get the best medical care the government has to offer." That didn't mean a damn thing if he died before they could get him to the hospital. The man sighed again. "I can see there'll be no talking to you until he's off." He turned around and disappeared through the bushes, leaving her to sit just out of reach while the other two men went to work on stabilizing Teague. Sirens cut through the night. The silent night. She turned to look back at the Hallorans' property. Where were the gunshots that had been peppering around them since Teague showed up? She frowned. "It's not safe here." "It's as safe as anywhere." The paramedic spoke without looking at her. Or at least she hoped he was a paramedic. "We've secured the situation." They'd secured the situation. She didn't get a chance to ask more questions, because the sirens' volume increased before abruptly shutting off. Red and white lights played along the fence line. The ambulance was here. It happened so fast. Too fast. One second she was struggling to her feet, and the next they were shutting the doors between her and Teague and tearing off down the street. Callie stood on the sidewalk, staring after the ambulance. She was supposed to be there, with him. "Now, we really do need to talk, Ms. Sheridan." Talk. This man wanted to talk when the life of the man she loved-her husband-hung in the balance. She realized she was still holding a gun and turned it on him. "I don't think so." Finch's eyebrows rose. "Do you really think it's wise to add to your body count tonight?" No, but there was no room for wisdom when Teague needed her. She didn't lower the gun. "Please take me to the hospital." "Ms. Sheridan-" "You misunderstand me. That wasn't a request." There were other men around them, men who didn't look too happy with her pointing a gun at what she suspected was the man in charge. She didn't care. They hadn't saved her just to gun her down in the street. "Where is your car?" He pointed to a black sedan behind him. Typical. She motioned that she'd follow him. A few seconds later, they were in the car and he turned on the engine. "Now, we'll talk." "Drive." She didn't want to talk to this man. She didn't want to talk to anyone. But she had the feeling Finch would get his way, one way or another. "Why are you so eager to have a conversation?" "You're a very interesting woman. I'm kicking myself for overlooking you previously." She didn't like the sound of that-at all. But she lowered the gun and leaned back against the car door. She could still shoot him, but that had never been the goal. All she wanted was to get to the hospital. "Why did you conveniently show up in time to save the day, but not earlier when you knew I'd been taken?" "The wheels of bureaucracy turn slowly, my dear." He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "Your new husband is very important to me and my friends. I hope you understand and respect that." Shock and exhaustion and just plain old trauma made her slow, because it took her several long minutes to realize what he meant. Oh, Teague, why didn't you tell me? She wasn't surprised, though. She hadn't exactly been honest with him. It was only expected that he'd kept some things back as well. But working with the FBI? Then again, she didn't exactly have room to talk. She'd put in a call to them for help. She found herself speaking without having any intention of doing so. "As much as I appreciate the assistance, stay away from my people, John Finch. Whatever arrangement you have with my husband is between the two of you, but if I hear about you sniffing around where you shouldn't, I doubt either of us will like the results." He laughed, startling her. "Got some steel in your spine, don't you? No wonder he was willing to throw it all away to save you." She didn't ask what he meant. He was trying to bait her, and she wanted no part of it. "Do we have an understanding?" "Oh, we do, indeed." He turned muddy brown eyes on her, shifting between one breath and the next from the nonchalant jokester to something infinitely more dangerous. "Keep your people on the right side of the law, Ms. Sheridan, and we won't have a problem." He stopped the car. "Now, go see to your husband." She looked out the window to find them in front of Massachusetts General Hospital. "Thanks for the ride." She reached for the door, but his hand on her arm stopped her. "The gun, please." The gun that linked her to the murders of two men. She turned and met his gaze. "And what do you plan on doing with it?" "Your sins from tonight won't come back to haunt you, if that's what you're wondering." As if she would trust this man. Being FBI only made him more suspicious as far as she was concerned. "If it's all the same to you, I'll take care of it." "If you insist." "I do." She opened the door and paused. "May I borrow your coat, Mr. Finch?" "By all means." He shrugged out of it and passed it over. She slipped it on, instantly dwarfed. Callie didn't like it. She didn't like the musky scent of old cigarettes that clung to the fabric, either, but she could hardly shove the gun into the waistband of her jeans. "I'll see it's returned to you." She shut the door, and then gritted her teeth when he rolled down the window. "Tell Teague that I'm sorry. It wasn't supposed to be this way." If it was as she suspected and Teague was informing to the FBI on his family-and hers?-then they'd failed him spectacularly. "You should have been there." "I know." The exhausted admission struck her to her soul. They'd all screwed up to one degree or another. This situation wouldn't have gotten so out of control without multiple people failing to put on the brakes. She sighed. She wanted to blame this man, but there was more than enough blame to pass around. "You have a good night." "Not likely." He pulled away from the curb before she could respond. Callie slipped the gun into one of the deep pockets in the coat. As much as she wanted to rush into the hospital and demand to know where Teague was, she had to take care of the weapon first. She skirted the edge of the buildings, following the street down to the overpass leading to the waterfront. There were better ways to go about disposing evidence, but this would have to do. She didn't like trusting Finch not to gather evidence and press charges against her, but there was no other option. He had her backed into a corner. It was entirely possible he actually saw her shoot those two men, which meant there wasn't a jury in this country that would find her not guilty. It was a worry for another day. She moved through the trees at the water's edge. It was remarkably deserted, and she wasted no time wiping the gun down and flinging it as far into the water as her strength could carry it. She waited a few moments to see if anyone saw her do it, then turned around and strode back to the hospital buildings. It took twenty minutes to get any information at all about Teague-despite the fact that she kept telling them she was his wife-and another ten to be guided to the right part of the hospital. The nurse pointed to the waiting area with the impatient air of someone who'd done it countless times before. "He's in surgery. The doctor will be out once they're done putting him back together." One hell of a bedside manner. She muttered her thanks and sank onto the faded blue chairs. Or maybe they were gray. It was impossible to say. Callie should call someone, let them know where Teague was. Or, God, wash her hands. She looked down at the blood crusting her palms, and the overwhelming urge to curl up and sob flowed over her like a tidal wave. Her hands shook, the tremors working their way through her entire body. Oh God, oh God, oh God. Her lungs tried to close, each breath seeming to tear itself free. She bent over, resting her forehead on her knees, and closed her eyes, but that only made it worse. All she could smell was smoke and blood and something she suspected was her own fear. She lurched to her feet and stumbled to the bathroom. The cold water felt good on her skin, but it wasn't doing a damn thing to get the blood off. She turned it hotter and pumped a bunch of soap into her hands. She scrubbed until her skin was raw and pink and there wasn't the slightest trace of blood. There was no help for her clothing, though. With a sigh, she made her way back to the waiting room. The nurse at the station didn't look particularly happy to see her, but when she asked to use a phone, she pointed Callie to a public one down the hall. And then the calls started. First, to her father, who didn't answer. I'm fine. I'm at the hospital. Then to Carrigan, who also didn't pick up. Teague's been shot. We're at the hospital. And, finally, to Micah, who did pick up. "Where the hell have you been?" Her throat tried to close. Again. "I'm at Mass General." "You're okay?" "Yes. It was Teague who was shot. I'm fine." Or as fine as she could be, considering the circumstances. "Thank Christ." He blew out a breath. "I'm on my way down to the jail. Your father and pretty much everyone he took with him to deal with the Hallorans are locked up." Locked up was better than dead. She wasn't sure when she'd made that belief transition, but she didn't see herself going back anytime soon. "What are the charges?" "I don't know yet. Do you need me to swing by on my way?" As much as she was loath to stall him, she couldn't keep walking around the hospital in bloodstained clothing. "If you have a change of clothes in the car, I'd appreciate it." "I'll be there in ten." She hung up and leaned her forehead against the wall. Papa was locked up, Teague was in the operating room, and God alone knew where the rest of his family and the Hallorans were. It felt like she was the last person standing. It was a horribly lonely place to be. In "Accidentally Seduced the Billionaire Heir After Betrayal" by CrushReel, a tale of romance and revenge unfolds as our protagonist faces the aftermath of her husband's betrayal. After three years of separation, she uncovers a shocking truth: her estranged husband has fathered a child with his mistress. Despite the heartbreak, she navigates through the complexities with resilience and unwavering determination. 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