Page 25 of Dark Succession (The O’Malleys #1)

F our days later, Teague stumbled up to his room, so damn exhausted, it was like he’d been running a marathon all day instead of making phone calls. But nothing had come to fruition, and his frustration was high.

James wasn’t returning his calls. The men he’d sent out to canvass the area around Tit for Tat had been run off by Halloran men. Neither his father nor Aiden would talk to him about the plans they had in the works.

And, to top it off, his younger sisters had taken it as their own personal mission to make sure he made a full recovery. Every time he turned around, Sloan was pushing him into the nearest chair and offering a blanket, or Keira was shoving hot tea into his hands.

They meant well, but he was losing his goddamn mind.

He locked his bedroom door and sat gingerly on the edge of his bed. His ribs still smarted like nobody’s business, but the family doctor had assured him that nothing was broken or seriously injured. He’d be back in fighting shape in no time.

Teague sighed and stripped, moving carefully.

A quick glance at the clock told him it was late—later than he’d wanted to be out and about.

His promise to Callie lingered in the back of his mind.

It was the only reason he allowed his sisters to run rampant over him.

At least that way he had something to tell her when he called her at night to reassure her that he was taking care of himself.

His shower was quick and miserable, the hot water doing nothing to pound the tension from his muscles. He needed a week on a beach somewhere and daily massages to work the stress out, but it was more likely that a unicorn would burst through his door.

The fight was here. Callie was here. His family was here.

Which meant he was where he needed to be.

He shut off the water and grabbed a towel. Lying down on his bed was a slice of sheer heaven, but he didn’t close his eyes. There was one last thing to do before he could give over to sleep. He smiled and reached for his phone.

A few seconds later, Callie answered, “Late night.”

“Yeah.” He adjusted his pillows. “My mother cornered me to ask about tux choices. She sat me down for an hour to go over pictures. An hour .” And when he’d told her to just pick whatever she thought was best, she’d ripped him a new one without ever once raising her voice or letting the smile slip off her face.

Callie made a sympathetic noise. “She called me three times today. I’m not particularly proud to admit I dodged every single one of them. ”

“I don’t blame you.” He laughed. “I’d be doing the same thing, but the woman knows where I sleep.”

“So what did you decide on?”

“Hell if I know. I chose three options before she was finally satisfied.”

“Poor baby.” She moved, the sound of fabric sliding coming through the phone.

He closed his eyes, picturing her lying out on her bed the same way he currently was on his, wearing a pair of sweats and a tank top.

He liked that she went for comfort instead of sexiness for sleeping.

It was such a contrast from how she carried herself during the daytime—perfectly put together in every way.

“I wish you were here.” He wasn’t sure where the words came from, but they were the stark truth.

“I wish I was there, too. I don’t trust that you’re taking care of yourself.” She paused. “And I miss you. I know it’s only been a few days, but—”

He cut in before she could tag some qualifier on there to take away from the statement.

“I miss you, too. Do you want to go get lunch tomorrow?” Or breakfast. Or dinner.

Or, hell, he’d settle for coffee. Anything that got them into the same room and settled the uncomfortable feeling he hadn’t been able to shake after the way they left things the other day.

They might have talked every night they’d been apart, but it wasn’t close to the same thing.

“I wish I could.” The regret in her voice was real. “Papa and I have a meeting that I can’t reschedule.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask what the meeting concerned.

He knew for a fact his father was coordinating things on his own without talking to Colm about them, so it only stood to reason that Colm was doing the same thing.

But bringing business up meant taking away from the comfort and intimacy that came from just having a conversation with Callie.

Business could wait, at least until tomorrow.

Instead, he said, “Soon, Callie. I want to see you soon.”

She shifted again, maybe rolling over on her bed. “Let me see how the meeting goes, and then I’ll have a better idea of when I’m free. I want to see you, too.”

“Deal.” It wasn’t an exact date, but the intent was clear. She wanted to see him as much as he wanted to see her. He yawned, a wave of exhaustion rolling over him.

“Go to sleep, Teague. You need it.”

“You too.” She wasn’t getting enough. He didn’t have to sleep next to her every night to know that.

Every time he talked to her, she sounded more run-down and tired.

Last night she hadn’t been able to remember the last time she ate when he asked.

It was added motivation to get some alone time with her—at least then he could make sure she got a full meal and maybe a nap. “Good night, angel.”

“I will say, Callie, I’m surprised by what you’re proposing.”

Callie kept her nerves off her face through sheer force of will. In the days since Teague’s attack, she’d been petitioning hard for her father to let her in. It was only today that he finally relented and promised to hear her out. The admiration on his face almost made the fight worthwhile.

Almost.

She took a deep breath. Every time she brought up Brendan, Papa changed the subject, making it abundantly clear that he didn’t want to hear her confession, no matter what he might think happened.

With that avenue closed to her, she’d focused on the war itself.

“They’ll be expecting a full-frontal attack, which means they’ll be prepared for it.

This will cripple a significant portion of their income.

” And destroying the factory where the Hallorans stored their illicit goods dealt them a blow that was unlikely to result in casualties.

It wasn’t a perfect plan as such things went, but it was better than what John was suggesting—work their way through Halloran territory, taking out every hub they used on the way.

The loss of life would be devastating on both sides—she refused to sit back and allow it to happen.

Thank God Papa seemed intrigued by her plan.

He sat back, tapping his steepled fingers against his lips. “They’ll use more than one location—they’re too smart to store everything valuable in one place.”

“Even so, taking out one will hurt them with less chance of loss on our side.” She met her father’s gaze, her hands folded demurely in her lap.

“When we go for their throat, I want it to be in a way that doesn’t put any more of our people at risk than necessary.

” Please, God, let this end before we have to take such measures .

It was becoming increasingly clear to Callie that she was capable of doing just that if they backed her into a corner.

She hated knowing that about herself, but there wasn’t time for her to wrestle with her bruised conscience.

Brendan had been one thing. Even though she knew differently in her darkest soul of souls, she could still argue with herself that it had been solely self-defense. This was something else altogether.

But seeing Teague hurt and helpless had driven the stakes home in a way she couldn’t ignore.

If left unchecked, the Hallorans wouldn’t hesitate to kill every last one of them.

By holding herself back, she might be putting the people she cared about at risk.

Teague. Micah. Emma. All of them. When she weighed her conscience against those lives, it was no contest. She’d do what needed to be done to keep her people safe, no matter how unpalatable she found it.

Especially since she was the one who struck the match that blew a tense treaty sky-high.

He nodded to John. “Make it happen.” Papa waited until the door shut behind his man to pin her with a look. “Enough about business. How are the wedding plans going?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to remark that the wedding was just as much business as the strike against the Hallorans, but she wrestled the words back at the last moment and forced a smile instead. “My future motherin-law is a force of nature.”

Papa shook his head. “Yes, that’s one way to describe Aileen. Be careful, Callie. That woman is ruthless to the core—she’d smile sweetly while she gutted you if she thought the situation called for it.”

She’d suspected as much, but it was enough to make her wonder what the woman had done to make even Colm Sheridan feel it necessary to dole out a warning. There seemed to be so many things she could no longer talk to her father about, but this was safe enough. “What did she do?”

“Nothing in the way that you mean.” He laughed softly. “But any woman who could survive thirty-five years of marriage to Seamus O’Malley—and bear him seven children—is not one I’m inclined to take lightly. ”

There was something beneath the words, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. “Perhaps Seamus isn’t as bad at home as he is with his enemies.”

Papa raised his eyebrows. “Do you really believe that?”