Page 6 of Dark Succession
Christ, if he only knew, he’d take this away from Teague just like he had every other thing of value. The thought should have been a sobering one, but he was too far gone.
Somewhere to the left of them, a male throat cleared.
He tore away from her at the same time she shoved him, but Teague had only moved to stand in front of her,putting himself between her and whoever had just entered the alley. He took in the man with a single look—tall, bigass shoulders, and black. That suit was most definitely hiding a gun in a shoulder holster, and he probably had at least one more on his person.
Callista pushed past him, shooting him a look. “Micah.”
The man—Micah—crossed his arms over his massive chest. “They’re looking for you, Callie. And I guess they’re looking foryou, too.”
“Then we’d best get back.” Callista snatched the scarf out of Teague’s hands and wrapped it around her throat once more, hiding the marks.
It was like being doused in a bucket of cold water. She’d played him, and he’d been only too happy to go for it. Teague cursed himself as they disappeared into the building. He paced the alley, his desire for the woman dwindling as memories assaulted him.
Yeah, he’d seen those marks before. He’d been young—maybe six or seven—the first and only time his father put his hands on his mother. Teague wasn’t sure what the fight had even been about, but the image of Seamus’s hands around his mother’s neck wasn’t something he’d ever been able to forget.
Or the quiet words she’d managed to squeeze out.You put your hands on me again, and I’ll kill you in your sleep. His father had laughed it off, but he’d never touched her like that again. Even then, Teague had wanted to step in, to do something to help his mother, even if she so blatantly hadn’t needed it.
It didn’t matter what had happened in the past. He couldn’t change it any more than he could fly to the moon. But he sure as fuck wasn’t going to stand by whilesomeone hurt his goddamn fiancée. He wasn’t sure when he’d decided to accept that he was getting married—maybe it was when she’d closed her eyes and leaned against the brick wall, letting that hint of vulnerability show—but he’d gone and done it.
Besides, it was blatantly clear that Callista Sheridan couldn’t protect herself, and her father wasn’t interested in trying. A woman like that… He closed his eyes and gave himself a full five seconds to remember how good she’d felt in his arms, readily responding to his every touch.Christ. A woman like that wasn’t meant to be squandered on pieces of shit like whoever had hurt her—or on Teague, for that matter. He had no illusions about being good enough for her, but he was too goddamn selfish to back off now.
Even if he’d had a choice in the matter.
“Looks like you’re having a good time.”
He knew that voice. Teague turned around, staring at the mouth of the alley until one shadow detached from the wall and sauntered over. “What are you doing here?”
John Finch leaned against the wall in nearly the same place where Callista had just been. “You should have called.”
“I didn’t think the goddamn feds would care one way or another whom I got engaged to.” He was lying through his teeth. They wanted to know every detail he could provide, no matter how insignificant he found it.
“We care about everything you do.” Finch pinned him with those steely gray eyes. “I haven’t heard from you in weeks.”
Yeah, because he’d been seriously reconsidering the whole thing. It seemed like a great plan to slip informationto the cops from time to time—anything to weaken his father’s hold on their portion of Boston. If he ended up in jail, it would free Teague and the rest of his family.
Or so he’d thought.
After months of tips and insider information, nothing had happened.Nothing. He knew these investigations took time, but he’d given them more than enough to put Seamus away for years—and still they wanted more. They didn’t care that his father would be only too happy to kill him if he ever found out what Teague was doing. Hell, Teague didn’t particularly care about that, either. He just wanted the man to go down in flames. He shook out another cigarette and lit up.
“Those things will kill you, you know.”
“There are worse ways to go.”
“You’ve got that right.” Finch laughed, but the sound died nearly before it’d begun. “We need to talk. Sooner rather than later.”
He debated telling the man to fuck off, but if Finch was desperate enough to waylay him here, where anyone could catch them talking, then he was desperate enough to keep popping up. “I’ll call you.”
“Do that.” He turned and started walking toward the street. “By the way—congratulations on your engagement.”
Teague watched him walk away, wondering why the hell the fed sounded so damn pleased by this development.
James Halloran followed his younger brother, Ricky, into their father’s office. His last remaining brother. Themonster that had woken in his chest at the news of Brendan’s death only seemed to get more vicious with each hour that passed. It didn’t matter if he was inside or under the open sky—there just wasn’t enough fucking air. All he wanted was some time and space to come to terms with the new order of the world. A world that didn’t have his older brother in it.
He knew well enough that Brendan had his faults—more faults than virtues, though James would never say as much to anyone outside their immediate family. But to kill him like that… There was no honor in that death. He shook his head and closed the door behind him. Right. Because honor would make this hellish situation so much fucking better.
Their father sat in his great chair before a roaring fire, his gaze trained on some memory that seemed a million miles away. James stopped walking, wishing he could leave the old man alone. The news of Brendan’s death was horrific enough, but what he had to report now was going to send Victor over the edge.
And he’d take what was left of their family with him.
