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 as 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 more back than he’d divulged. Only time would tell if she could trust him.
And time