Page 12 of Dark Succession (The O’Malleys #1)

J ames 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.”

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. ”