Page 35 of Dark Succession
“You sound like our old man.”
“Maybe because he’s got some balls. Brendan did, too.” He made a show of looking James up 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.Hewas 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 evenbreatheunless 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 delicate 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 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 rememberanythingafter 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 thentransported him somewhere. There was no other reason for him being in what he figured 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?
He was an idiot.
But just because he was stupid didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous. Teague could anticipate what James would do in most situations—or at least he’d like to think he could. He stopped, thinking hard. Was it possible James had been the one to order the beating? His mind immediately rebelled at the thought, but he forced himself to reason through it. James had met him in good faith. The man might have changed in the years since they were close, but he was smart. He would know that attacking Teague would only escalate things. Even if it was part of his plan, he’d still wait for a time when they hadn’t just had a damn meeting. It was too obvious. Too clumsy. It wasn’t James’s style at all, even if he was willing to betray Teague.
But Ricky? Ricky was a loose goddamn cannon.
Teague cursed long and hard. “Every time I think this situation can’t get worse, the universe decides to go and prove me wrong.”
“At least you’re alive.” He opened his eyes to find Callie closer, an unreadable expression on her face. “I thought you were dead for a moment.”
And it had obviously scared the shit out of her. He ignored the protest of his ribs and raised his hand. “Come here, angel.” She crawled across the bed to settle next to him, leaving a few scant inches between them as if she was afraid of hurting him further. He smoothed back her hair, taking in her tank top and faded sweatpants. If asked before, he would have guessed that she slept in some sort of slinky teddy or something equally sexy.
Apparently he would have been wrong.
