The Marriage Contract (16 page)

“That’d be great. I’ll let Cillian and Aiden know.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Devlin not to, but the truth was he had to face Aiden eventually. And Cillian might drive him up the wall, but he was still family. “Good. We’ll go down to Jameson’s and have a few beers.” He waited for his brother to disappear through the doorway before he made his way up to the attic.

Carrigan looked up from a giant box she was digging through when he climbed up the last step. “You’re late.”

“I was talking with Devlin.”

Her entire expression softened at the mention of their youngest brother. “He’s really kicking ass at school.”

“Good.” Though they both knew he wouldn’t get a chance to use that web design major any more than Teague would use the master’s degree in business that he was working on in his spare time. “How are you doing?”

She raised her eyebrows. “I’m the same as I’ve ever been.” Which wasn’t a damn answer.

He crouched down to peer into the box holding her attention. It was filled with what looked like embroidered handkerchiefs. “What’s all this?”

“Mother Dearest has me on a wild-goose chase, looking for Grandma Donaghue’s second-favorite blue handkerchief to give to your fiancée for the wedding.”

“Second-favorite?”

She shoved her hair back from her face and adopted a stern look and a tone terrifyingly similar to their mother’s. “Of course, Teague. We can’t be giving that Sheridan girl the best of the best, now can we?” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve been up here for two hours. Did you know we have
four
boxes this size filled with handkerchiefs? Why in God’s name would we need so many?”

They shared a look and said the word at the same time. “History.”

Teague looked around the dim attic. “I haven’t been up here in years.”

“No one has. That’s the point of it being an attic. The only things up here are boxed-away memories and maybe a ghost or two.” She dug deeper into the box. “But you didn’t text me because you were dying to dig through family heirlooms.”

No, he hadn’t, but he looked around the attic, and couldn’t help seeing it as a physical reminder of everything they had to lose. It was entirely possible that Callie’s secret wasn’t something that could potentially be a grenade, but he wasn’t about to place bets on it. Life was far too willing to rise up and kick him in the teeth for him to hope for the best. “How did things go with Callie last week?”

She sneezed when a cloud of dust rose out of the box. “She’s not what I expected, but I suppose I was a little biased. She managed to placate our mother without insulting her, which is something I’ve never pulled off, so she’s smarter than I gave her credit for. Prettier, too.”

High praise coming from his sister. “Do you like her?”

She shrugged. “I don’t hate her.”

He suspected it was as good as he was going to get. “I’d like you to take her out—spend some more time with her. She’s going to be family, after all.”

“If you’re trying to endear her to me, comparing her to family isn’t the way to go about it.”

He laughed. “
I’m
family.”

“My point stands.” But she was finally smiling. “But since you are my second-favorite brother, I will see about some sisterly bonding time.”

“I appreciate you—” Then he stopped to consider her words. “Wait—second-favorite brother?”

Her smile widened. “You’re great and all, but Devlin is—”

“Devlin. Yeah, I get it.” He reached into the box and grabbed a scrap of blue that had caught his eye. “Is this it?”

“Oh, thank God, yes.” She took it out of his hand and frowned at it. “It doesn’t look like much. But, back to Callie, don’t worry about it. The girls and I are taking her out tomorrow night.”

He sat back. “You already planned this before I asked you to, didn’t you?”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She pushed to her feet and dusted off her skirt. “That fiancée of yours is wound too tight. She needs a little loosening up.”

Considering he knew exactly what kind of activities Carrigan enjoyed to loosen up, that wasn’t comforting in the least. Callie was so restrained and proper—at least outside the bedroom. He couldn’t imagine her in the clubs his oldest sister liked to frequent. Not to mention… “You’re not taking Keira, right?”

Her green eyes were all innocence. “Keira isn’t twenty-one. Would I really take her to a place that might corrupt her innocence?”

“Yes, you would.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “And I don’t see Sloan volunteering for that sort of thing, either.”

“Brother, you constantly underestimate me. It will be as good for Sloan to get out of her shell as it will be for Callie. Now, run along. I have things well in hand.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” But he recognized a losing battle when he saw one. Carrigan would do what she wanted, despite his wishes. She always did. The only saving grace of the whole clusterfuck was that his sister had perfected getting in and out of these places without being caught. There was no reason to think her perfect record would be ruined tomorrow. No reason except that nothing had gone right in recent memory. He rose. “Be careful, Carrigan. Please.”

She opened her mouth like she was going to deliver a flippant reply and then closed it. “I always am.”

It would have to do. He paused to ruffle her hair like he used to when they were kids, her outraged shriek music to his ears. He ducked out of the attic and headed to his room. There was a lot to accomplish today. If he couldn’t ferret out Callie’s secret, the least he could do was keep pulling at the string of information about the identity of Brendan Halloran’s killer.

W
hen she’d agreed to spent time with Teague’s sisters, Callie had anticipated a spa day or something equally relaxing. She’d said yes because she needed that relaxation desperately. Instead, she was near Fenway Park, being towed through the front door of what looked like a warehouse. She glanced at the two younger women who’d been introduced as Keira and Sloan—more sisters—but they didn’t look the least bit surprised to find themselves in a club packed with gyrating bodies with music so loud she could feel it in her blood.

Carrigan led the way around the dance floor and up a set of rickety-looking stairs. She grinned at the man guarding the top, leaning forward to speak directly in his ear, her hands resting on his chest. Callie couldn’t hear his laugh, but she was grateful when he stepped back and allowed them through the door. Inside, it was moderately quieter—at least the point where she could almost hear herself think. She turned to Carrigan. “This isn’t what I had in mind.”

“Maybe not, but it’s what you need.” She turned and strode over to the bar on the back wall, manned by a woman who could barely be seen over the counter.

“Why don’t you sit down? You look a little shell-shocked.” Keira guided her to a U-shaped couch built into the wall. It afforded a small amount of privacy, more than she’d expected because this room was only half-full.

She shot the woman a look. “Are you even old enough to drink?”

“My ID says I am.” She gave a cheeky grin and dropped down next to Callie, dragging Sloan behind her. “This is great. Carrigan never lets me tag along when she slips her leash.”

Things started to fall into place. This wasn’t about her at all—this was about Carrigan. She couldn’t even blame the woman for using any excuse she could come up with to find a legitimate escape from the gilded cage she lived in. Callie knew all about that, being how she was trapped in one of her own. She relaxed back into the seat. She’d been considering making her excuses and getting out of here, but it was the least she could do to stick around for a little while longer. She might not be free in any sense of the word, but it wouldn’t hurt to let these other women have a little taste of it.

Carrigan reappeared with four shots in her hands. “Let’s start this night off right.”

Oh dear God, this is going to go sideways fast
. But she’d already decided to stay, so she took the glass and held it gingerly between her fingers. Carrigan sat across from her, next to Sloan. “Here’s to the men who love us, the losers who have lost us, and the lucky bastards who have yet to meet us.”

Keira laughed. “Hear, hear!”

They took their shots, and Callie didn’t miss the sick look on Sloan’s face. Apparently the woman wasn’t much of a drinker—or a partier, since she looked a half a second from bolting. It was enough to make Callie want to hug her, or offer some meaningless words of comfort. Carrigan must have noticed as well, because she put her arm around her sister in a half hug. “I know this isn’t your choice of a good time, but you need to stretch your boundaries a little.”

“For real, Sloan. You’re in danger of becoming that weird sister in the attic who only haunts the halls at night.”

Callie started to smile, but the expression died when she realized neither of them were joking. There were emotional undercurrents in this conversation that she barely understood, so she kept silent and watched it play out.

Keira jumped to her feet. “I know just the thing to get out of your funk. Come on, let’s go dancing.”

“I don’t—” The rest of Sloan’s words were lost when her younger sister yanked her to her feet and through the door leading back the way they’d come.

Carrigan sat back and crossed her legs, making the tiny dress she wore ride up to indecent lengths. “Sisters.”

There was so much meaning and history in the word. “I always wanted one.” Though she’d been happy tagging along behind Ronan on his many adventures when they were children, she’d always longed for someone who would rather play dolls than sword fight with sticks.

“They’re both a blessing and an enormous pain in the ass.” Carrigan shrugged. “But the same could be said for most families.”

The bartender appeared, two drinks in her hand. She set them on the little table between them and disappeared before Callie could get out a single word of thanks. She picked up the glass, examining the mix of bright colors. Her first sip found it pleasingly sweet and fruity. “This is good.”

“Miami Iced Tea. It only takes two to get your head into exactly the right kind of place.” She drank deeply with great relish.

In that case, Callie was going to have to be careful. She didn’t drink often enough to build up the kind of tolerance necessary for both the shots and mixed drinks, and she didn’t trust this situation enough to indulge freely. “Good to know.”

“My brother likes you, you know.”

She knew, but hearing it still made her entire body go warm. “I like him, too.”

“Good.” Carrigan took another drink. “Because if you hurt him, I will have no problem taking you into a back alley and cutting your heart out.” It was delivered in exactly the same careless tone that she’d said everything else, and for a long moment Callie was sure she’d misheard her. But then the woman turned those pale green eyes on her and she knew she had it right. As ruthless as Teague could be on occasion, he didn’t have anywhere near the degree of cold that his sister obviously possessed. Then Carrigan blinked and the look disappeared, replaced by a light, teasing expression. “Do you dance, Callie?”

“Yes.” She answered without thinking, still marveling at how completely the woman went from icy to warm, and how little effort it seemed to take. This was a person who wore masks with such regularity, there was no telling what she was really like.

Though Callie would bet the cold threats were closer to the truth than the carefree smiles.

“Perfect. Finish your drink and let’s go join my sisters before they get into trouble.”

She took a sip before she realized she was obeying. “If you’re worried they’ll get into trouble, why did you bring them here?” Maybe she should have begged off on this outing as soon as she realized what they planned. Though her father had always taught her that recognizing a threat was important, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that Teague’s older sister was exactly that.

Carrigan’s grin was downright wicked. “Sometimes a little trouble is good for the soul.”

Carrigan slid into the mass of dancing people, feeling like she was coming home. In here, surrounded by strangers, with the music so loud there was no chance of conversation, it didn’t matter that she was an O’Malley or that her future was less than certain.

She was blissfully—if temporarily—free.

She dragged Callie behind her and worked her way toward where she’d seen Sloan and Keira from the balcony above. They’d been directly in the middle of the seething mass—something she suspected was her youngest sister’s doing, because God knew Sloan wouldn’t set foot on a dance floor without being forced. She’d much rather find a relatively quiet nook and watch the dramas going on around her than to actually participate in them. Well, that was too damn bad, because tonight she was participating whether she wanted to or not.

People were packed in like sardines, making it a struggle to get through, but she relished the contact. It seemed like the only time she got touched was when she was out here and surrounded by strangers. She always managed to convince herself that she didn’t need it, but then she’d slip her cage and prove herself a liar on the dance floor. The truth was she was well and truly skin-starved.

It was enough to make her do truly foolish things.

They found Keira first, her arms above her head, her eyes closed as her hips moved to the grinding beat. There were no less than three men around her, circling like sharks. Carrigan cut through them and wrapped her arms around her, laughing as she pulled her away from them. She glanced over to where Callie had found her other sister and towed her to safety as well.

Carrigan let go of Keira and crossed to Sloan. She leaned in close because she wanted her sister to actually hear. “Are you okay?”

“Mostly.”

She might actually be okay, or she might be saying the right words so as not to make waves. Carrigan leaned back and looked her over. She was a little pale and her eyes were a little wide, but she wasn’t searching for the exits. “If you want to leave, just tell me. I’ll make sure you get in a cab safely.”

“I’m fine. Go dance. You need this more than I do.”

The truth was a bitter pill stuck in her throat. She
did
need this, and she was just selfish enough to drag her sisters and Callie into it in order to justify coming here. Actually, selfish didn’t begin to cover it, but she wasn’t going to apologize. For all the love her siblings bore her, there was no one in this world who’d put her happiness and emotional needs above all others. That was her responsibility and hers alone. If she had to be a selfish bitch to meet those needs, so be it.

She checked on Keira and Callie, but they were fine, both dancing with grins on their faces. So her brother’s fiancée could let loose. Good. She’d seen Callie’s face when she talked about Teague. The woman was over the moon for her brother, and as happy as that made her, she couldn’t kill the little sprout of jealousy that rose. Teague would finally get his happiness, and he would finally stop trying to take his sisters away and save them from this life. It had been a vain hope in the first place, but she still mourned its death. But it just reinforced her belief that no one would take care of her except
her
.

“I’ll be right back.” She didn’t wait for Sloan’s response before slipping through the crowd, taking her time working her way to the bar on this level, pausing to dance with this man and that and then moving away before they realized she was leaving.

The bar itself was nothing fancy—a counter of faded wood that kept the masses from getting to the wall of liquor on the other side—but it fit the club itself perfectly. She leaned over, trying to catch the bartender’s eye, dipping down a little more than necessary to flash him a generous slice of cleavage.

“Good luck. I’ve been waiting for fucking ages.”

She glanced over and froze, her breath stalling in her lungs. The man who spoke was big enough to give even her brothers pause, and had an air about him that promised more danger than she could possibly handle. It wasn’t his plain white T-shirt or faded jeans that gave that impression, and even his short, scruffy beard and long blond hair wouldn’t make her give him a second look. No, it was blazingly apparent in every line of his body, in the way he held himself as if ready for a fight to break out at any second, and the way his cold blue eyes searched the room for a threat before finally landing on her again, making her treacherous heart skip a beat.

This man was danger personified.

And she wanted him.

Carrigan leaned against the bar, taking her time looking her fill. The stranger sure knew how to fill out a shirt, and the clean-cut clothing only accented his rugged looks. He would be perfectly at home on a Harley if she had to guess. A biker. Her mouth practically watered at the thought. She leaned in to him under the pretense of wanting to speak, taking the opportunity to run her hand up his chest. Yeah, he was more cut than a damn diamond. “Hey there.”

He moved back enough to search her face. Whatever he was looking for, he must have found, because he closed the distance, his short beard scraping against her cheek as his lips brushed her ear. “You look too classy for this joint.”

“Looks can be deceiving.”

“I sure as fuck hope so.” His hand settled on the small of her back, a slight nudging that she could have resisted easily. She didn’t. Instead, she let him guide her closer yet, until the front of their bodies pressed against each other. The fabric of her dress was so thin, it might as well not have existed. She could almost feel the calluses on his palm, and she resented the hell out of the barrier.

“You want to take this somewhere more…private?”

His laugh rumbled in her ear. “You read my mind.”

A quick glance at the dance floor showed no sign of her sisters or Callie, but she had no illusions that they wouldn’t come looking for her if she was gone too long. So she wouldn’t be gone too long. She grabbed the stranger’s hand and led the way back toward the bathrooms. Bypassing them, she tried the door to the old, unused storage closet. He raised his eyebrows, and she shrugged. “The lock’s been broken for years, and the owner’s too cheap to replace it.”

“It’s enough to make a man wonder how often you make the trip back here.”

She smiled, even though the comment stung. It didn’t matter what this man thought of her. He didn’t know a damn thing about her life or what she went through on a daily basis. She was entitled to getting her freedom where she could find it. “And yet it’s benefiting you, so maybe you shouldn’t ask too many questions.”

“You’re right. I need this tonight.”

Before she could wonder at his words, he was on her, dragging her against his big body and taking her mouth like there was no question of it being his. She opened to him out of reflex, half expecting some sloppy drunk fumbling, but he only tasted faintly of whiskey.

And there was nothing sloppy about the kiss.

He tasted her mouth, seeming to sample her before he groaned and
took
her. His tongue clashed with hers, demanding something she wasn’t sure she could give. Her head spun at the sheer unexpectedness of pleasure coursing through her body, brought on by the feel of him against her and his intoxicating taste in her mouth. He guided her back to the bare wall and pinned her there. She was so lost in the kiss, she didn’t realize his hands were moving until one slipped up her dress and yanked her panties off. They hit her knees and then he was parting her, slipping a finger inside.

Holy shit
.

He kissed down her throat, still working her with his finger, relentlessly shoving her toward an orgasm. She tangled her fingers in his hair, not sure if she was pushing him away, pulling him closer, or simply hanging on for the ride. He used his free hand to slide her dress off her shoulders, and then his mouth was on her right breast, his teeth against the sensitive skin as he worked his way to her nipple. A second finger joined the first between her legs, and she couldn’t stifle her whimper.