Page 53 of Heated Rivals
“No, no. I was just asking. Jesus, James, I was just fucking with you.”
No, he wasn’t. He was pushing, testing boundaries, looking for weakness. Was this what parenting was like? James almost laughed at the thought. It might be similar, but he doubted most kids were willing to do actual violence to their parents during their rebellious teenage years. Ricky was. James waited for his brother to drop his gaze before he spoke again. “The shipment that comes in two days from now needs an escort over to Northern California. You’ll take two men and make sure it gets there without a problem.”
Ricky’s mouth tightened, but he gave a jerky nod. “Sure thing.”
He didn’t believe the obedient act for a second, but there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. He couldn’t punish his brother for having a shitty attitude, or because he suspected Ricky was up to no good. His men would think he was crazier than his old man, and it would only be a matter of time before they put him in the ground.Getting him out of town for a week or so is exactly what both of us need right now.
“Have you gone to see him?”
James stopped but he didn’t turn to face his brother. There was no need to ask who Ricky was talking about—their old man. “No.” Not since that first time. He’d shown up at the jail, needing some sort of reassurancethat he was doing the right thing as he stepped into the role thrust upon him. Victor had turned James away, leaving the message that he was a disappointment and always had been. Bitterness clawed up his throat, as familiar as the back of his hand. He’d never lived up to his old man’s exacting standards, and he’d never stopped trying, either. Now he was doing things his own way.
And making one hell of a mess of it.
His phone buzzed, saving him from the conversation. He dug it from his pocket, and his breath whooshed out at the sight of Carrigan’s name. She’d called. He thumbed it on as he walked out of the room. “It’s good to hear from you.”
“James.” Her voice was so broken, so unlike her, that he froze. “James, I need you. Now.”
He didn’t stop to think or question. He grabbed his jacket and keys from the rack by the door and hit the sidewalk at a run. “I’m on my way. Tell me where.” This was different from the last time she’d called him. She’d been upset then. But this sounded so much worse. “Did someone hurt you?”
She laughed, a jagged wet sound. “Not how you mean.” She rattled off an address.
He did some quick mental calculations. “I can be there in fifteen minutes.” He’d have to break a few traffic laws to pull it off, but he’d manage.
“Okay… thank you.”
“Hang in there, lovely. I’m coming.” He slid into the driver’s seat of a black Beemer that he kept for times when he didn’t want to draw attention to himself, and dropped his phone next to him so if she called again, he wouldn’t miss it. Thenhe floored it.
He made the trip in ten minutes. The address was a little coffee shop in Mission Hill. James pulled up outside, but there was nothing that he could see to raise any red flags. Since Carrigan didn’t fly out the door and throw herself into his car, he parked and walked inside. The street was technically O’Malley territory, but since it bordered the southwestern outskirts of where they did business, it didn’t get the kind of attention it would if it were on the boundary bumping up again Sheridan or Halloran space. That didn’t mean he went in relaxed, though. Something was wrong with Carrigan—seriouslywrong.
It could be a trap.
Didn’t matter. She needed him and so he was here. He’d promised her he would be, and nothing that had happened between them had changed that fact. A quick survey of the place found it empty except for a two-person table in the back corner where Carrigan sat hunched over, her hands cupped around a giant mug. He dropped into the seat across from her, categorizing everything he saw. There were dark circles beneath her eyes and her hands shook on the mug, but she looked okay. He knew better than most that it didn’t mean she wasactuallyokay, though. “What happened?”
She started, as if she’d been so lost in thought, she hadn’t realized he was there. Her green eyes were full of shadows. “Do you know Dmitri Romanov?”
The name wasn’t familiar. But all that meant was that James had never worked with the man personally. “No.”
“I’m going to marry him.”
Every cell in his being rejected the words. “No.” He took a deep breath and forced the anger out of his voice. “If this is aboutthe wedding—”
“It’s not. I’d already decided before what happened that I’d marry Dmitri. This just expedited things.”
She’d already decided on a husband and hadn’t told him. It shouldn’t surprise him—he knew her father had given her a list, and he knew she was working through it—but knowing she was dating these guys and hearing her say she was going to marry one of them were two completely different things. “Carrigan.”
“I don’t have a choice. You know that. I know that. Hell, everyone in Boston knows that. It was nice to pretend maybe things could be different, but…”
He didn’t like this new side of her. Up to this point, every time he interacted with her, she’d been a spitfire and so full of life she made him feel like maybe they could exist in this reality without being broken. Something had happened in the last forty-eight hours to change that, and his fists clenched with the need to destroy it. “What happened? Is this because of your brother?”
“No. Well, sort of.” She huddled the coffee closer. “He said I needed to choose and get it over with, and God knows I can’t chooseyou.”
Wouldshe choose him if she could?
Before he could ask, she moved on, “Dmitri was the best choice. The only choice, really. And I should be grateful that he doesn’t play games.”
She didn’t sound grateful. She sounded hopeless. “Who is this guy?”
“He runs some kind of business down in New York. I don’t really know, but for him to be on my father’s list, he’s not a good man.” She made a face. “Though I knew that thirty seconds after meetinghim. He’s a shark.”
