Page 13 of Dark Succession
He gentled his grip. “Are you okay? You look spooked.”
If he only knew. She’d never been a victim of panic attacks before. But then, she’d never killed anyone before, either. A hysterical laugh tried to muscle its way out of her mouth, but she clamped her teeth together until the urge passed. “I’m fine.”
“If you’re sure…”
“I am.” She couldn’t quite banish the tension from her shoulders, but she managed a half smile.
Teague looked unconvinced. “Our table is this way. I thought some privacy would be our best option.”
Some, but not too much. She took a shaky breath and tried to steel herself. Panicking like this wasn’t an option. Panickingat allwasn’t an option. How was she supposed to lead her people into the future if she couldn’t even hold herself together?
Because this is exactly the sort of thing I want to avoid.Murder isn’t supposed to be an option.
The table he led her to was situated on the other side of a half wall, and lit by two small candles. She slid into the chair that gave her a view of most of the rest of the room, and Teague took the one directly to her right, also putting his back to the wall. They shared a humorless smile. Old habits died hard, apparently.
The waitress appeared and took their drink orders. Once Callie had her wine in hand, she shifted in her seat to look fully at him. “You have me here. What is it you plan to do with me?” The words came out low and flirty, as if inviting him to think dark thoughts. Which wasn’t what she’d intended… even if she was suddenly thinking exactly those types of thoughts. It was all too easy to step back into that alley and remember the feel of his hardmuscles beneath her hands and how he’d taken her mouth as if he had every right to it.
Teague leaned back, his tumbler of whiskey hanging loosely in his hand. “I could think of a few things.”
Focus. You’re here to figure out how to solve a problem. Not to flirt.
She couldn’t quite manage to tear her gaze away from the curve of his lips. Everything else about him was so hard and rough, as if carved from stone. But those lips? They were sensual and full and promised the kind of pleasures she could only dream of. She shook her head. “I imagine so.”
“Tell me something.”
She tensed. He was going to ask her about the bruises again. She was sure of it. “What would you like to know?”
“Were you and Brendan together?”
Callie laughed, the sound broken. “No. I’d never met him when my father decided that we should be married.”
“Hmm.” He nodded, as if confirming something to himself. His face gave away nothing of his thoughts, though those dark eyes drank her in as if he couldn’t make himself look away. As if he didn’t want to. “Do you hope I’ll go the same way?”
No. The vehemence of the thought shocked her. Really, she shouldn’t care one way or another if this man lived or died—as long as it wasn’t her hand holding the gun. He was nothing to her. A stranger she was about to be linked to for the rest of her life. And yet… She took a sip of her wine. “You seem like a decent man.”
He laughed. “There aren’t any decent men in our world, but I’m a hell of a lot better than Brendan.”
She couldn’t argue that. She didn’t even want to. Instead, Callie looked away. “What are we going to do?”
“About the marriage? Or the fact that Victor Halloran is about to bring all sorts of fire and brimstone down on us?”
Both. But focusing on the impending marriage—justfour weeksaway—was the selfish thing to do. It was more important to head off the Halloran threat before he did any more damage. “The latter.”
Something like disappointment flickered across his features, but it was gone too fast for her to be sure. “In that case, I think we should talk to James. He’s not a bad sort, and he’s miles better than anyone else in his family. If there’s someone who can bring this thing to a grinding halt, it’s him.”
As long as he doesn’t know I’m the one who killed his brother. Feeling sick, she set her wineglass aside. “Then we should talk to him as soon as possible.” Before Papa or Seamus did something to escalate matters. Twenty-four hours since the shooting and she knew there were plans afoot, even if she didn’t know the details.
“I agree.” Teague pulled out his phone and started dialing.
She stared. “You have James Halloran’s number in your phone?”
“We used to play poker.” There was that flicker again, as if some strong emotion was trying to surface. “But that was a long time ago.”
“Oh.” It seemed such a strange thing, when now that their families were on the verge of trying to kill each other, that he and James used to spend time together regularly enough for Teague to have his number. She waitedwhile Teague left a cryptic message and a request for a call back.
He hung up and pocketed the phone. “Now, we wait.”
The waitress reappeared as if she’d been waiting for the opportunity, and he ordered for both of them before Callie could open her mouth. She sat back as the woman left, not sure if she was impressed by his gall or annoyed.
