The Marriage Contract (7 page)

She had, too.

Teague ran his hands up her back, pressing her more firmly against him, and threaded them into her hair. He used his hold to tilt her head back so she met his eyes. They were dark and stormy and full of too many things to name. She recognized the presiding emotion, though.

Desire
.

He kissed her, the slightest brushing of his lips against hers. When she would have deepened it, he tightened his grip on her hair, holding her in place. He kissed each corner of her mouth and then trailed down her jaw. She barely had a second to realize his intention and tense, but he already had her scarf off. Callie braced herself for another interrogation, but he just reached around her to open the passenger door and toss the discarded item into the vehicle. Then his mouth was on her neck. She didn’t have to see the path he took to know he was tracing the map of bruises, his lips so incredibly gentle that she whimpered.

“Am I hurting you?” His voice was rough against her skin.

“No.” Not in the way he meant. But his tender way of touching her was affecting her more than she could have anticipated. Her throat burned, trying to close as he continued his path, working from right to left. He was taking something ugly and shameful and turning it into something else altogether. How was she supposed to keep her head about her when this man kept surprising her?

She didn’t know if she could.

He lifted his head. “Just because we’re not talking about this now, don’t think the discussion is closed.” Then his mouth was on hers. Where the first kiss had been so sweet it made her heart ache, this one was exactly the opposite. She opened for him the moment he made contact, and he wasted no time in reacquainting himself. His tongue stroked hers, sending a bolt of heat straight to her core. She slid her hands up his chest and then around his neck, needing as much contact as possible. She felt like she’d been starved and hadn’t realized it until the moment he touched her.

One of his hands left her hair, trailing down her spine to line up their bodies. She gasped at the feel of him. Her hips rolled against him so wantonly, she would have been embarrassed if he hadn’t groaned. “Fuck, angel. I’m trying to do this right, but if you keep doing that…”

She did it again. She couldn’t help it. She wanted him to follow through on the promise in his mouth, his body, his hands. It had been so incredibly long since she’d felt safe enough to get this close to a man. If she was smart, she wouldn’t feel safe with
this
man. He might be her fiancé, but he was still the enemy.

Except he didn’t feel like the enemy with his arms around her, his forehead resting against hers, his breath coming just as fast as hers was. His fingers dug into her ass, urging her on. He was so incredibly hard, and the feel of him through the fabric of their clothes was almost unbearably good. She moaned against his mouth, and he took that as an invitation to angle her head back and take the kiss deeper yet. He kissed her like he’d never get enough, with a heat that she felt to her very toes.

He cursed. “Angel—”

Emboldened by the need in his voice, she tangled her fingers in his hair and rolled her hips again, unable to keep in her breathy moan at the feeling of him. She was close to coming and they’d barely done anything. It would be pathetic if it weren’t so hot. “Teague, please.” She wasn’t even sure what she was begging for, but only he could give it to her.

He lifted his head and looked around, his gaze narrowing when he took in the running car that was farther down the aisle. She didn’t have to glance over to know it was someone’s protection—though whether it was hers or his was up for debate. His dark eyes pinned her in place. “In the SUV?”

She was already nodding. It was like the last of his control broke in that moment. He lifted her into the back and guided her into the captain’s seat on the far side. Then he followed her in and shut the door. It had been dim in the parking garage, but it was nothing compared to inside the Escalade with its darkly tinted windows. She had half a second to wonder if she’d just made a mistake, but then Teague was kneeling in the space between the seats, his big body between her thighs.

The position hiked up her dress as he moved closer, until it was around her hips. He ran his hands up her bare legs, making a deep sound of appreciation. “You are so goddamn beautiful.” And then his mouth was on hers, kissing her like his next breath could be found in her lungs. She wrapped her legs around his waist, moaning. His hands continued their upward movement, cupping her ass and lifting her so he could thrust against her. He kissed his way over to the sensitive spot behind her ear. “I could finish you like this, but I’m dying to taste you.”

Taste her
.

There was no mistaking his meaning, not when his fingers were playing with the edges of her panties. She held her breath several heartbeats, trying to focus. She wanted this man like she’d never wanted another in longer than she cared to remember, but that didn’t mean she wanted to have sex with him after a first date in the back of her family’s SUV while their protection duty sat less than twenty feet away.

He must have felt her tense, because he moved so he could meet her gaze. The heat there stole her breath. He smoothed his thumb across her temple and down over her cheekbone. “Let me take care of you, angel. Just that. Nothing else.” She started to speak, but he beat her there. “When I finally sink between your thighs—and at this point it’s a matter of
when
and not
if
—it’s going to be in a bed with a locked door between us and the rest of the world.” His thumb kept up its gentle stroking, a strange counterpoint to the rest of their bodies. “I might not deserve you, but I’m sure as fuck going to do right by you.”

Maybe she was a fool and a half for finding his words comforting, but she cupped his jaw and kissed him. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, you can…taste me.” Saying the words out loud felt strange, but the look on his face was more than worth it.

He hooked his thumbs into her panties and dragged them down her legs. His grin was a flash of white in the darkness. “Find something to hang on to.”

She almost laughed, but then he nipped her thigh, licking his way up to the center of her thighs. He groaned at his first contact, almost as if he wanted this just as much as she suddenly did. He kissed her there with the same intensity he seemed to bring to every interaction. She reached blindly over her head to grasp the handle at the top of the door, half fearing she’d float away on a sea of almost painfully good sensation if she wasn’t careful.

Teague gripped her thighs, parting them even further as he drew his tongue down her center. It was as if he was determined to explore every inch of her, his rough hands holding her in place so she couldn’t have moved even if she wanted to. He circled her clit once, twice, a third time, drawing sounds from her throat that she hadn’t been aware she was capable of making. Helpless whimpers and sharp cries, and through it all, a demand for
more
.

She hadn’t realized she said the word aloud until he chuckled against her heated flesh. “Not yet, angel. First you’ve got to come for me.”

He sucked her clit into his mouth, rolling the sensitive bundle of nerves between his lips and tongue. It was too much. Her body went tight, unbelievable pleasure spiking through her again and again, drawn out by his mouth. It was only when her cries quieted and her body’s reaction had dimmed to a mere shake here and there that he gave her one last kiss and raised his head. “Damn, angel. Just…damn.” He lifted her, shifting until he was beneath her and she was curled in his lap. She could feel his cock against her ass, but he made no move to do anything about it. He smoothed her hair down and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Do you want me to drive you home?”

Yes. Stay.

She didn’t let the words free. No matter what she thought of this man—and she was beginning to think quite a few things—if she showed up at her home with him in the driver’s seat, there would be hell to pay from her father. Pending marriage or not, if he knew what they’d just done…Her skin broke out in goose bumps.

What had she been thinking? The sky was falling in so many ways, and one kiss from Teague and she’d been nearly willing to have sex with him in the backseat of her SUV. It was so incredibly selfish that it threatened to make her sick.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop.”

She blinked and tilted her head back to see his face. “What?”

“It was a reprieve, angel. Even heirs to the Sheridan empire get reprieves.” His lips brushed hers. “We’ll figure this out, just hang in there. Deal?”

She fought back some of the irrational guilt and nodded. “Deal.”

J
ames listened to the message Teague had left him a second time and then deleted it. If it had been anyone else from that fucking family, he would have suspected some kind of trap, but Teague was as close to the up-and-up as an O’Malley could be. In another life, they might have actually been able to realize the friendship that they’d started over a poker game. But that relationship had been sacrificed at the altar of family—just like everything else he’d cared about.

He shook his head and pocketed his phone. Now wasn’t the time for melancholy thoughts. The message had confirmed exactly what he’d suspected—Teague was as much as victim in this mess as Callista was.

And both of them were a whole hell of a lot closer to innocent than Brendan had been.

If his father or brother heard him say as much, they’d call him a traitor or worse, but it was the goddamn truth. James loved his brother in the way you had to love family, despite their flaws. But that didn’t mean he was blind. Brendan was the one who had brought their business transactions into a realm even James wasn’t comfortable with. Shipping in girls from God alone knew where? That was human fucking trafficking. It didn’t matter if the girls had volunteered—they were all desperate enough to do or say anything to get into the States. They didn’t know what the hell they were signing up for.

He’d fought it as hard as he dared, and when he couldn’t fight, he slipped money to the girls who had the most spirit, and gave them a window where they could run. Some did. Some stayed. The shit curdled his stomach every time he thought about it, and it was worse because Brendan had never shied away from using those girls in every way a man could use a woman.

Some things were unforgivable, even when it was family doing them.

Knowing that—accepting that—didn’t mean he wanted his brother dead, but he was the only one who seemed to wonder if maybe Brendan hadn’t brought his death upon himself. James knew what else was found in the room with his brother—that there was evidence of another girl. A girl who’d most likely been the one to pull the trigger.

He made his way down the hall to his father’s office, and knocked. “Father?”

“Get your ass in here and report.”

He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. The fire was once again built high and hot, so much that the room had to be damn near ninety degrees. James shifted, his T-shirt already starting to stick to his back. “The grounds are secured. No one will get through.”

“Good, good. We need to plan our next attack.”

Now was the time to speak up. If he stayed silent and someone ended up killed, he’d never forgive himself. “We should reconsider this.”

His old man turned rheumy eyes in his direction. “Your brother is dead, and you want to let his killer go free?”

“Of course not.” Even though he’d been considering doing just that if it turned out one of the girls really had been the one to kill Brendan. But he couldn’t say that to his father, not when the man had praised his oldest son’s initiative in some of his more creative ways of bringing in money. “But the O’Malleys and Sheridans didn’t kill him.”

“How can you be sure of that? Those bastards have been plotting against us from the very beginning. I’ll see them all hang even if I have to sacrifice everything I busted my ass for to do it.”

The truth hit him, leaving him so cold, it was a wonder his breath didn’t ghost the air in front of him. His old man was willing to get them all killed to fulfill some paranoid agenda he’d been nursing for fucking ages. James clasped his hands behind his back, wishing he could will them not to shake. There had to be some way to do damage control, though hell if he could find it right now. He
had
to, though.

The alternative was too horrible to even consider.

Callie pulled into the giant garage and waited for the door to shut behind her before she climbed out of the Escalade. It was unlikely someone would try to hurt her here, but old habits died hard. She hoped Teague’s call to James would work, but she couldn’t dismiss the Halloran threat until there was an official truce called. If James was anything like his older brother…

She shuddered. Best not to think about that, because if he was, then this whole thing was a lost cause. As things stood, she still wasn’t sure she trusted Teague. It was entirely possible he was playing her—probable, even. She certainly hadn’t told him everything over dinner, and she’d be a fool to think he hadn’t kept more back than he’d divulged. Only time would tell if she could trust him.

And time was the one thing she didn’t have.

Movement beside the car made her jump, but she took a deep breath when she recognized John. He’d been with her father since she was too young to remember otherwise and, as a result, she recognized the tightness of his jaw and the disapproval written across his face. He opened the door. “Miss Sheridan, your father is worried.” He gave her a significant look. “He expected you home an hour ago.”

Which she would have been if she’d come straight here after walking out of the restaurant with Teague. Apparently Micah hadn’t seen fit to report back exactly how long she and her fiancé had been in the backseat of the SUV.
That
shouldn’t matter, though. What mattered was that John was treating her as if she were still sixteen and he’d caught her sneaking out with her high school friends to meet some boys. Callie lifted her chin. “I had something to take care of.”

Something that her body was
still
humming with. That tangle of emotions was too messy to deal with right now, so she pushed it aside in favor of focusing on the problem at hand. “Is something happening?”

Instead of answering, he stepped back and let her pass. “If you’ll come with me.”

It was always like this with the old-timers who’d watched her grow up. The younger guys were mostly willing to follow whichever Sheridan was in charge, as long as they proved they were willing to do what it took to keep the family in power. They, at least, were willing to sit back and hold off judgment until Callie either sank or swam.

But the men who’d known her long enough to watch her play dolls and run crying to her father whenever Ronan’s playing got too rough and she ended up hurt? They couldn’t seem to acknowledge the fact that she was no longer ten, and was more than capable of leading if they’d just give her the chance.

She was the one who’d taken Moira’s, a floundering restaurant they used as a way to import some of the more sensitive illegal materials, and turned it into a raging success in its own right. At first Papa hadn’t been thrilled with the increase in clientele, but even he had to admit that the more people they had coming and going, the easier it was to cover up
their
people coming and going. Even better, with the expansion, it was now bringing in a good amount of clean money.

Riding high on that success, Callie had just turned her attention to another restaurant they owned when Ronan had died and she’d been thrust into the darker side of what being a Sheridan meant. She didn’t particularly like dealing with everything that it entailed, but she was more than qualified to do it.

The familiar frustration rose, but she refused to let it show on her face as she followed John through the hallway connecting the garage to the house and to her father’s office. He and another of his men, Lee, were talking intently, but broke off when she walked through the door. Her father rose, straightening to his full six feet. “Where have you been?”

She stopped short. “What’s going on?”

“We have a strike against the Hallorans tonight, but it was on hold until you got home—which you should have been over an hour ago.” He nodded at Lee, and both he and John left the room, closing the door behind them.

She turned to look, the sinking feeling in her chest telling her everything she needed to know about what kind of violence was planned tonight. “Papa, you have to call them off.”

“I have to do no such thing.”

“Victor Halloran is striking out because he just lost his son. Surely you can understand that and
talk
to him instead of escalating the issue?” With each strike and counterstrike, it was becoming more and more likely that this war couldn’t be stopped, no matter what Callie and Teague did.

My fault
. She tried to brush the thought away, but it grew teeth and burrowed into her mind. If she’d gone along with her father’s plans to have her marry Brendan, then they wouldn’t be facing war and the deaths of people she knew and cared about. “Please, Papa.”

“You dare to compare Brendan to your brother?” His fists clenched, and her stomach dropped before she forcibly reminded herself that her father had never raised a hand to her in twenty-five years. It was unlikely he’d start now. She hoped. Papa glared at her like he knew this was truly her fault. “You must hold your brother in low esteem.”

Ronan had been
nothing
like Brendan. He’d hardly been perfect, but he wasn’t a monster by any definition. How could Papa think she really felt that way? Her heart beat so quickly, she half feared it’d beat itself right out of her chest. It was tempting to back down and slink away to her room to take her fourth shower of the day, but there was more at stake than her pride. She took a deep breath and tried to keep her voice temperate. “I’m not saying that at all. I’m just saying our resources would be better spent doing anything except going to war.”

He waved that away as if it weren’t a completely legitimate argument. “You’re too soft, my girl. Oh, you can be ruthless when you’re backed into a corner, but you always hesitate to take preemptive attacks. Halloran struck at us during a moment of celebration. If I allow it to pass without retribution, all the little weasels and cockroaches will come calling, and no one will be safe. You value your safety, don’t you? Our people’s safety?”

Of course she did. That’s why she’d worked with Micah to get safeguards in place in case the Hallorans attempted a strike closer to home. But she hated the fact that they were potentially escalating the violence in the name of safety. It seemed so backward no matter which way she looked at it. “There has to be another way.”

“There’s not. Now, go get some sleep.” His gaze coasted over her, settling on her neck. “You look like you need it.”

Her hand flew to her throat. She’d been so distracted with thoughts of Teague that she’d completely forgotten to put her scarf back on. “I—”

“Did I ask for an explanation?”

She froze, searching his face. There was a heavy knowledge in his eyes. “Papa…” She forced herself to stop talking and
think
. He’d been in this line of work far too long not to recognize what the bruises on her throat meant. He might not know who put them there, but he must suspect something or he would be grilling her for more information the same way Teague had.

Does he know?

Papa moved around his desk and set his hands on her shoulders. “I failed you once, Callie. Let me make it right.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then he walked away, leaving her staring at the empty chair behind his desk.

He knows
.

She reached blindly for a chair and stumbled over to sink into it. Her father knew she was the one who killed Brendan—had probably known from the second the news got out. She’d done her best to slip her tail, but someone had seen something. Callie touched her still-tender neck, guilt making her want to curl into a ball and sob.

Papa was doing this for
her
.

There was no other explanation that made sense. He wasn’t the type to let a skirmish escalate into a war, not if there was any other option. The fact that he was doing it now made her think he was waving the red flag in front of the bull that was Victor Halloran to keep their people distracted from their investigation.

Her father was taking the Sheridans to war in order to protect her.

Teague carefully shut the door to his suite, even though all he wanted to do was slam it. He should have known better than to try to reason with his father, but he’d been flying high after things going so well with Callie that he’d decided to try.
Idiot
. If he’d stopped to think about it, he would have known that there was a better way to approach his father, rather than directly head-on. He should’ve gone through Aiden. His oldest brother was excellent at the tightrope act of getting their father to agree to anything required. Teague had never had the patience for that shit, and it showed in the fact that his father barely took him seriously on the best of days.

Today sure as hell wasn’t that.

His phone rang, distracting him from his anger. He saw the familiar number, and tried to get his shit under control. There was only the slightest thread of discontent in his voice when he answered, “Hey, James.”

“Long time.”

“Yeah. Too long.” The years stretched out between them, too many to ever make shit right. That was assuming James even missed the weekly poker games and bullshitting. He shook his head. He was acting like a little bitch about this. Their friendship was over and done with, but he hoped that old affection would be enough to accomplish what he needed to accomplish. “You got my message?”

“Yeah.” James sighed. “Look, man, I’d love to stop this shit as much as you would, but there’s not much I can do.”

The last bit of hope he’d been holding out that they could circumvent the upcoming war disappeared in a puff of smoke. He didn’t give the man grief—he knew how little control an heir really had, especially when someone like Victor had the reins tightly in his grip. That man wouldn’t be handing over any more power than he had to until he was on his deathbed. He scrubbed his hand over his face. “I had to try.”

“I know you did. I’ll do what I can to keep things from truly blowing up, but I’ve gotta be honest—it’s not looking good. My old man is out for blood.”

He’d expected as much. “I appreciate it. I’m working this end as hard as I can right now, but I’ve got even less influence than you do.”

“What’s that brother of yours have to say about this?”