and down. “The old man is right—you’re as much a pussy as the O’Malleys and Sheridans. Even more so, because at least they’re willing to fight.”
The decision played out before James, lightning fast. He could yell at his fool brother and hope to God it was enough to make him see reason. Or he could make damn sure Ricky never crossed him again. He was the heir now. He couldn’t afford to spend the rest of his life cleaning up his brother’s messes, or worse, constantly looking over his shoulder.
Fear or love.
It was painfully obvious that love wouldn’t do it—hadn’t done it despite the fact that they’d always been close. The only way to stop this shit in its tracks was to cut it off at the source. He hauled Ricky out of his seat again and dragged the struggling man toward the back room. His brother realized their destination and fought harder. “What the hell? Jesus, James, I was just screwing with you. Stop. Holy shit, stop.”
James shoved him through the door and followed him inside, kicking it shut behind him, feeling like he tore off a ragged chunk of his soul in the process. He took a deep breath, the scent of old blood and fear almost enough to make him gag. “I don’t give a fuck if you hate every damn decision I’m making, you don’t move without my permission. Hell, you don’t even breathe unless I give the okay. You got it?”
“Yeah, James. I get it. I swear I do.” His brother nodded frantically, his hands still outstretched as if that would really save either of them from what was coming.
James rolled his shoulders. “You know the drill, Ricky. Canes or the whip?”
* * *
Teague woke up in waves of pain. He felt like a train had hit him—maybe two. It hurt to breathe, and he had no illusions about the fun times ahead when he actually moved. He cracked open his eyes, finding himself in a dim room that he’d never seen before. He looked around as much as possible without moving his head, taking in the feminine four-poster bed and white canopy that wouldn’t look out of place in a fairy tale. Everything was white—the dresser, the vanity, the walls.
“You’re awake.”
He gritted his teeth and turned his head to see Callie standing in the doorway that seemed to lead into a bathroom. Fuck, that hurt. “I thought I might be in heaven, but now I’m sure.”
She gave a tired smile. “At least you still have your charm.”
“I have more than that. Come here and—” He winced at the sharp pain that shot through him when he lifted his arm. “On second thought, maybe I’ll just lie here.”
“Smart.” She crossed to carefully sit on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“That’s a stupid question.”
She rolled her eyes. “I know you’re in pain, but do you feel like you’re going to be sick? Or dizzy?”
Signs of a concussion. He took careful stock, because while being manly and tough was great for impressing the people around him, it wouldn’t do him any good if he passed out the second he sat up. “No. My face feels like someone took a two-by-four to it, and I’m pretty sure those assholes kicked me once I was down, but nothing more serious than that.”
“That’s plenty serious.”
He’d dealt with worse, albeit not often. Teague looked around the room again. “Not that I’m complaining, exactly, how but did I get here?”
“You don’t remember?”
He didn’t remember anything after that coward hit him in the back of the head. From the state of his body, they must have kept beating him for a while, and then transported him somewhere. There was no other reason for him being in what he figured what must be Callie’s room. “I suspect I was unconscious at the time.”
She looked away, twisting at the edge of the comforter. “You were dumped in front of me by an SUV registered to Ricky Halloran.”
“Fuck.” He closed his eyes, trying to get a hold of his anger. That little shit had always been a troublemaker, even if he was nowhere near as dangerous as Brendan. Or he hadn’t been. It looked like he was gunning for the rep, and he wasn’t smart enough to pull it off without getting himself killed. Jumping Teague in Halloran territory right after he met with James? Dumping Teague’s unconscious body from his own goddamn SUV?