Page 7 of Dark Succession (The O’Malleys #1)

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’s great in b—”

“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 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 foolish. 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 to consider 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, 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.