going to take this lying down, no matter how much he wanted his own people safe. And removing Sheridan’s heir would also remove the last thing holding Colm Sheridan back from going out in a blaze of glory and taking them all with him.
This shit was well and truly fucked.
He strode into his father’s office, flinching at the heat from the roaring fireplace. It didn’t matter if today was particularly hot and sticky. The old man had a chill in his bones that he never quite shook. The rest of them just lived with it. His gaze landed on his little brother sitting next to his father. What the fuck was going on here?
Victor raised gnarled hands. “I hear you’ve found the little bitch who killed your brother.”
James narrowed his gaze at his brother. Someone from the pub must have called Ricky. His idiot brother just smirked like he’d done something smart. It was enough to have James’s fists clenching. He hated that Ricky saw the movement and paled before setting his jaw and raising his chin.
He had to approach this right. There would only be one chance to keep this from going completely tits up, so he couldn’t fuck this up. He straightened. “Things are more complicated than we expected.”
“I don’t see the complication. We’ll skin the little—”
“It’s Callista Sheridan.”
Victor frowned. “Sheridan’s daughter?”
He took a deep breath. “It was an accident.” Lie. “She was meeting Brendan, and there was some confusion and the gun went off.” Lie. “She’s been too afraid to come forward.” That, at least, he suspected was partly true.
“Hmmm.”
Before James could relax—his father was actually considering changing his course—Ricky bolted upright. “You can’t be thinking of letting that bitch go.”
“Sit down, and shut your fucking mouth.”
Ricky ignored him and turned to their father. “She shot Brendan. She killed him. That’s unforgivable. Or am I the only one who cares that he’s dead?”
James saw the exactly moment his brother’s words tipped their father over the edge and into a madness that would get them all killed. Victor pushed to his feet, his whole body seeming to rattle with his shakes. “Your brother’s right.”
“But—”
“Justice must be served, James. Unless you think your brother’s killer should walk free because the little bitch has some connections?”
There was only one right answer to that question. To do anything else would get him thrown into the same boat as the women upstairs. He gritted his teeth. “No. Of course not.”
“We do it tomorrow. The boys deserve a spectacle.”
Jesus Christ. “Yes, sir.” He turned, but his old man’s words stopped him the second his hand touched the door. “The O’Malley whore, too. Make examples of both of them.”
Well, fuck. This situation had just gone from bad to catastrophic.
* * *
It took an hour for Teague to convince his mother to take Sloan and Keira to their house in Connecticut. An hour wasted, but he couldn’t move on the Hallorans with his family vulnerable. It would be horrible to come home victorious only to find out that they’d lost two more.
He refused to let another member of his family be hurt—or worse.
He ducked into a side room and pulled out his phone. There was one person who could put a stop to this before any more blood was shed, but it was a long shot. Teague dialed from memory, and impatiently waited for the call to connect.
“Well, well, well,” Finch drawled. “I was wondering if I’d hear from you today.” He sounded far too pleased with himself. It set Teague’s teeth on edge.
“I’m assuming you’re up to date on the current clusterfuck? The Hallorans have my sister and my wife.”
“Wife, huh? You sure move fast.”
“Cut the shit, Finch.” He made an effort to keep his voice low. “You can put a stop to this right now. You damn well know that they’re behind the shooting that killed—” He choked on the name, but finally forced it out. “That killed Devlin. Do something.”
“There’s no conclusive evidence and you know it.”
It was an effort to keep from beating his head against the wall. “They’re going to kill the women.”
“I heard something along those lines.”
It couldn’t be clearer that this piece of shit wasn’t going to do a damn thing. Teague had betrayed his family time and time again, telling Finch things he never could have found out on his own, and for what? To be left hanging in the wind repeatedly. That shit stopped now. “Then I’ll take care of it myself.”