Chapter 6 James listened to the message Teague had left him a second time and then deleted it. If it had been anyone else from that fucking family, he would have suspected some kind of trap, but Teague was as close to the up-and-up as an O'Malley could be. In another life, they might have actually been able to realize the friendship that they'd started over a poker game. But that relationship had been sacrificed at the altar of family-just like everything else he'd cared about. He shook his head and pocketed his phone. Now wasn't the time for melancholy thoughts. The message had confirmed exactly what he'd suspected-Teague was as much a victim in this mess as Callista was. And both of them were a whole hell of a lot closer to innocent than Brendan had been. If his father or brother heard him say as much, they'd call him a traitor or worse, but it was the goddamn truth. James loved his brother in the way you had to love family, despite their flaws. But that didn't mean he was blind. Brendan was the one who had brought their business transactions into a realm even James wasn't comfortable with. Shipping in girls from God alone knew where? That was human fucking trafficking. It didn't matter if the girls had volunteered-they were all desperate enough to do or say anything to get into the States. They didn't know what the hell they were signing up for. He'd fought it as hard as he dared, and when he couldn't fight, he slipped money to the girls who had the most spirit, and gave them a window where they could run. Some did. Some stayed. The shit curdled his stomach every time he thought about it, and it was worse because Brendan had never shied away from using those girls in every way a man could use a woman. Some things were unforgivable, even when it was family doing them. Knowing that-accepting that-didn't mean he wanted his brother dead, but he was the only one who seemed to wonder if maybe Brendan hadn't brought his death upon himself. James knew what else was found in the room with his brother-that there was evidence of another girl. A girl who'd most likely been the one to pull the trigger. He made his way down the hall to his father's office and knocked. "Father?" "Get your ass in here and report." He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. The fire was once again built high and hot, so much that the room had to be damn near ninety degrees. James shifted, his T-shirt already starting to stick to his back. "The grounds are secured. No one will get through." "Good, good. We need to plan our next attack." Now was the time to speak up. If he stayed silent and someone ended up killed, he'd never forgive himself. "We should reconsider this." His old man turned rheumy eyes in his direction. "Your brother is dead, and you want to let his killer go free?" "Of course not." Even though he'd been considering doing just that if it turned out one of the girls really had been the one to kill Brendan. But he couldn't say that to his father, not when the man had praised his oldest son's initiative in some of his more creative ways of bringing in money. "But the O'Malleys and Sheridans didn't kill him." "How can you be sure of that? Those bastards have been plotting against us from the very beginning. I'll see them all hang even if I have to sacrifice everything I busted my ass for to do it." The truth hit him, leaving him so cold, it was a wonder his breath didn't ghost the air in front of him. His old man was willing to get them all killed to fulfill some paranoid agenda he'd been nursing for fucking ages. James clasped his hands behind his back, wishing he could will them not to shake. There had to be some way to do damage control, though hell if he could find it right now. He had to, though. The alternative was too horrible to even consider. Callie pulled into the giant garage and waited for the door to shut behind her before she climbed out of the Escalade. It was unlikely someone would try to hurt her here, but old habits died hard. She hoped Teague's call to James would work, but she couldn't dismiss the Halloran threat until there was an official truce called. If James was anything like his older brother... She shuddered. Best not to think about that, because if he was, then this whole thing was a lost cause. As things stood, she still wasn't sure she trusted Teague. It was entirely possible he was playing her-probable, even. She certainly hadn't told him everything over dinner, and she'd be a fool to think he hadn't kept back more than he'd divulged. Only time would tell if she could trust him. And time was the one thing she didn't have. Movement beside the car made her jump, but she took a deep breath when she recognized John. He'd been with her father since she was too young to remember otherwise and, as a result, she recognized the tightness of his jaw and the disapproval written across his face. He opened the door. "Miss Sheridan, your father is worried." He gave her a significant look. "He expected you home an hour ago." Which she would have been if she'd come straight here after walking out of the restaurant with Teague. Apparently Micah hadn't seen fit to report back exactly how long she and her fiancé had been in the backseat of the SUV. That shouldn't matter, though. What mattered was that John was treating her as if she were still sixteen and he'd caught her sneaking out with her high school friends to meet some boys. Callie lifted her chin. "I had something to take care of." Something that her body was still humming with. That tangle of emotions was too messy to deal with right now, so she pushed it aside in favor of focusing on the problem at hand. "Is something happening?" Instead of answering, he stepped back and let her pass. "If you'll come with me." It was always like this with the old-timers who'd watched her grow up. The younger guys were mostly willing to follow whichever Sheridan was in charge, as long as they proved they were willing to do what it took to keep the family in power. They, at least, were willing to sit back and hold off judgment until Callie either sank or swam. But the men who'd known her long enough to watch her play dolls and run crying to her father whenever Ronan's playing got too rough and she ended up hurt? They couldn't seem to acknowledge the fact that she was no longer ten, and was more than capable of leading if they'd just give her the chance. She was the one who'd taken Moira's, a floundering restaurant they used as a way to import some of the more sensitive illegal materials, and turned it into a raging success in its own right. At first Papa hadn't been thrilled with the increase in clientele, but even he had to admit that the more people they had coming and going, the easier it was to cover up their people coming and going. Even better, with the expansion, it was now bringing in a good amount of clean money. Riding high on that success, Callie had just turned her attention to another restaurant they owned when Ronan had died and she'd been thrust into the darker side of what being a Sheridan meant. She didn't particularly like dealing with everything that it entailed, but she was more than qualified to do it. The familiar frustration rose, but she refused to let it show on her face as she followed John through the hallway connecting the garage to the house and to her father's office. He and another of his men, Lee, were talking intently, but broke off when she walked through the door. Her father rose, straightening to his full six feet. "Where have you been?" She stopped short. "What's going on?" "We have a strike against the Hallorans tonight, but it was on hold until you got home-which you should have been over an hour ago." He nodded at Lee, and both he and John left the room, closing the door behind them. She turned to look, the sinking feeling in her chest telling her everything she needed to know about what kind of violence was planned tonight. "Papa, you have to call them off." "I have to do no such thing." "Victor Halloran is striking out because he just lost his son. Surely you can understand that and talk to him instead of escalating the issue?" With each strike and counterstrike, it was becoming more and more likely that this war couldn't be stopped, no matter what Callie and Teague did. My fault. She tried to brush the thought away, but it grew teeth and burrowed into her mind. If she'd gone along with her father's plans to have her marry Brendan, then they wouldn't be facing war and the deaths of people she knew and cared about. "Please, Papa." "You dare to compare Brendan to your brother?" His fists clenched, and her stomach dropped before she forcibly reminded herself that her father had never raised a hand to her in twenty-five years. It was unlikely he'd start now. She hoped. Papa glared at her like he knew this was truly her fault. "You must hold your brother in low esteem." Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ Fɪndηovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Ronan had been nothing like Brendan. He'd hardly been perfect, but he wasn't a monster by any definition. How could Papa think she really felt that way? Her heart beat so quickly, she half feared it'd beat itself right out of her chest. It was tempting to back down and slink away to her room to take her fourth shower of the day, but there was more at stake than her pride. She took a deep breath and tried to keep her voice temperate. "I'm not saying that at all. I'm just saying our resources would be better spent doing anything except going to war." He waved that away as if it weren't a completely legitimate argument. "You're too soft, my girl. Oh, you can be ruthless when you're backed into a corner, but you always hesitate to take preemptive attacks. Halloran struck at us during a moment of celebration. If I allow it to pass without retribution, all the little weasels and cockroaches will come calling, and no one will be safe. You value your safety, don't you? Our people's safety?" Of course she did. That's why she'd worked with Micah to get safeguards in place in case the Hallorans attempted a strike closer to home. But she hated the fact that they were potentially escalating the violence in the name of safety. It seemed so backward no matter which way she looked at it. "There has to be another way." "There's not. Now, go get some sleep." His gaze coasted over her, settling on her neck. "You look like you need it." Her hand flew to her throat. She'd been so distracted with thoughts of Teague that she'd completely forgotten to put her scarf back on. "I-" "Did I ask for an explanation?" She froze, searching his face. There was a heavy knowledge in his eyes. "Papa..." She forced herself to stop talking and think. He'd been in this line of work far too long not to recognize what the bruises on her throat meant. He might not know who put them there, but he must suspect something or he would be grilling her for more information the same way Teague had. Does he know? Papa moved around his desk and set his hands on her shoulders. "I failed you once, Callie. Let me make it right." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then he walked away, leaving her staring at the empty chair behind his desk. He knows. She reached blindly for a chair and stumbled over to sink into it. Her father knew she was the one who killed Brendan-had probably known from the second the news got out. She'd done her best to slip her tail, but someone had seen something. Callie touched her still-tender neck, guilt making her want to curl into a ball and sob. Papa was doing this for her. There was no other explanation that made sense. He wasn't the type to let a skirmish escalate into a war, not if there was any other option. The fact that he was doing it now made her think he was waving the red flag in front of the bull that was Victor Halloran to keep their people distracted from their investigation. Her father was taking the Sheridans to war in order to protect her. Teague carefully shut the door to his suite, even though all he wanted to do was slam it. He should have known better than to try to reason with his father, but he'd been flying high after things going so well with Callie that he'd decided to try. Idiot. If he'd stopped to think about it, he would have known that there was a better way to approach his father, rather than directly head-on. He should've gone through Aiden. His oldest brother was excellent at the tightrope act of getting their father to agree to anything required. Teague had never had the patience for that shit, and it showed in the fact that his father barely took him seriously on the best of days. Today sure as hell wasn't that. His phone rang, distracting him from his anger. He saw the familiar number, and tried to get his shit under control. There was only the slightest thread of discontent in his voice when he answered, "Hey, James." "Long time." "Yeah. Too long." The years stretched out between them, too many to ever make shit right. That was assuming James even missed the weekly poker games and bullshitting. He shook his head. He was acting like a little bitch about this. Their friendship was over and done with, but he hoped that old affection would be enough to accomplish what he needed to accomplish. "You got my message?" "Yeah." James sighed. "Look, man, I'd love to stop this shit as much as you would, but there's not much I can do." The last bit of hope he'd been holding out that they could circumvent the upcoming war disappeared in a puff of smoke. He didn't give the man grief-he knew how little control an heir really had, especially when someone like Victor had the reins tightly in his grip. That man wouldn't be handing over any more power than he had to until he was on his deathbed. He scrubbed his hand over his face. "I had to try." "I know you did. I'll do what I can to keep things from truly blowing up, but I've gotta be honest-it's not looking good. My old man is out for blood." He'd expected as much. "I appreciate it. I'm working this end as hard as I can right now, but I've got even less influence than you do." "What's that brother of yours have to say about this?" That was the question, wasn't it? Aiden's insistence that he marry Callie was part of the reason they were in this shit storm to begin with. Teague sure as hell hoped his brother had thought about the potential consequences before he pulled the trigger on their plans. Though, if he had, he should have seen that this war was possible-even likely. So either he didn't, or he'd been okay with the cost. "I'll be sure to ask him." "You do that." James hesitated. "Hey, Teague?" "Yeah?" "If we're not both dead by the end of this, you want to grab a beer sometime?" He laughed. "Yeah, for sure." "Good luck." Then he was gone, leaving Teague alone with his thoughts. It wasn't a pretty place to be. He'd never once thought that his brother would hang him out to dry as a means to justify the end, but now he couldn't shake the feeling that Aiden had done just that. He typed out a quick text. Need to talk, STAT. Five seconds later, he got his reply. Library. Ten minutes. Enough time for him to jump in the shower. It felt a little like a betrayal to wash off the memory of Callie as soon as he walked through the damn door, but he needed his head on straight for confronting Aiden. He toweled off and dragged on a pair of jeans. Since his brother still hadn't shown, he texted her. Sleep, sweet angel. I'll call you tomorrow. He set his phone on the nightstand and ran his hands over his face. Maybe he should have waited to do this shit until morning when he was fresh, but he wasn't going to be able to get a damn bit of sleep until he knew the truth. Exactly ten minutes after he'd texted, Aiden walked into the library and closed the door. His brother was nothing if not punctual. Teague barely waited for him to drop onto the leather couch before he spoke. "Tell me that you didn't pawn me off on Callista Sheridan to provoke a war with the Hallorans." "We didn't fire the first shot. That was all Victor and his men." That wasn't an answer, and Aiden damn well knew it. Teague crossed his arms over his chest. "I want the truth. If you and our father are using me in a grab for territory, I damn well deserve to know." "I do what's best for our family. That's all any of us do." His brother's face showed nothing. It was like looking at a stranger instead of his old partner in crime. He'd known Aiden was changing in recent years, but he'd been so wrapped up in his own misery that he hadn't paid as close attention as he should have. A mistake, Teague realized now. He'd been sure his brother would support him over his father. Now he couldn't shake the feeling that belief was wrong. "What happened to you?" "I grew the fuck up." Aiden paced from one side of the room to the other, agitation in every move. "And you know what I saw, Teague? Our father isn't as cracked as we thought he was." His brother had to be a fool to think that. Seamus O'Malley would have been perfectly at home a few centuries ago, ruling some kingdom and answering to no one. But he'd never moved into the future, and how he conducted the family now was damn near unforgivable. "He moves us around like pawns on his own personal chessboard." "He's doing what it takes to keep our family safe. That calls for hard decisions, which you'd see if you pulled your head out of your ass long enough to look around and think about anyone but yourself. Times are changing, and we can't afford to be on the wrong side of it." The words could have come straight from his father. Teague had ever been the disappointment-the son who wouldn't fall in line, who questioned everything, who wasn't cold enough to believe the end justified the means. Apparently Aiden didn't have that problem. "I see things clearly enough." Enough to know if he wanted to stop this shit, he was going to have to do it himself. A small voice chose that moment to pipe up and demand to know what the fuck he thought he could do to stop it, but he ignored it. He'd find a way. He'd promised his sisters that he'd keep them safe, and now there was Callie to consider as well. Anything his family did to aggravate the issue painted a target on her back, the same as it did his. Unacceptable. Aiden made it all the way to his door before a thought occurred to him. "Brendan Halloran." His brother stopped. "What?" "You responsible for that?" He turned back. "You've got some goddamn nerve asking me that question with a straight face." Normally, it never would have crossed his mind, but it was becoming increasingly clear that he'd been a hell of a lot more checked out than he'd realized. The ground had shifted beneath his feet, and he had no idea what the terrain would look like once things settled into place-or if he'd still consider Aiden on the side of the angels. Not that any of them could claim that. Not anymore. And his brother still hadn't given a direct answer. "Yes or no. I need to hear you say it." Aiden glared. "No." Before Teague could relax, he went on. "Though I'd love to know who pulled the trigger so I can send them a fucking gift basket. Father was thinking about pushing Carrigan in his direction-until I looked into him." What the hell had Brendan been into that would give their father pause? The man really must have been a monster. Only something dire would make their father take him off the list for potential sons-in-law, given how advantageous it would be to merge their territory with the bordering Hallorans'. And Callie had almost married him. He shared a look with his brother, a moment of perfect understanding that was gone nearly as quickly as it'd come. Then Aiden was gone, too, closing the door softly behind him. "Goddamn it." Teague paced from one side of the room to the other, the movement doing nothing to calm him down. He was in the middle of a fight where he had no resources and not a single ally in his corner. How the fuck was he supposed to keep his younger siblings and Callie safe if he couldn't even make his older brother listen to reason? He dug his phone out of his pocket and dialed from memory. It would have been safer to grab a burner phone like he had every other time he'd called Finch, but he wasn't in the mood to jump through those hoops. The man had some shit to answer for, and now was as good a time as any. It barely rang twice before Finch answered, "You shouldn't be calling me from this phone." Teague didn't ask how his private cell number was public information. It was the least of things they should know. "You know what's going on with the Hallorans." It wasn't a question but he answered anyway. "We're aware of it." "Then why haven't you done something?" For one of the most feared government agencies in the States, all they seemed to do was sit around with their thumbs up their collective asses. "There are steps that have to be taken. You know that as well as I do." All he knew was that it was the same excuse they'd been feeding him for six months. It didn't sit any better now than it had every other time he'd heard it. "If you're not going to arrest someone-fine. But you need to get my sisters and Devlin out of here and into witness protection or some shit." He'd ship off Callie if he thought for a second that she'd go, but at least if his sisters were safe he could focus his efforts on his fiancée. And Devlin... Of them all, Devlin alone had the ability to have a better life if someone just gave him the chance to get the hell away from the rest of the family. "Now, son, I'll see what I can do, but that kind of thing takes time." Another excuse. He resisted the urge to throw his phone across the room. "Make it take less time." Teague hung up, adrenaline making him shake. He hated this shit, being helpless and relying on others to make things right. Hadn't he learned a long time ago that the only way to get something done was to do it himself? So the question remained-what would it take to bring this whole fucking mess to a standstill? He poured himself a glass of whiskey, thinking hard. Victor Halloran might be one scary motherfucker, but he hadn't crawled to the top of the food chain without having smarts to go with it-and war wasn't smart no matter which way you looked at it. If he hadn't just lost his son, he'd be more willing to let go of the insult of Callie marrying an O'Malley. The man had to want vengeance before anything else. Teague just had to position himself in a place where he could hand the old man his justice on a silver platter. That meant he had to find Brendan Halloran's killer. 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. 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