Page 31 of Heated Rivals
“Enough.” Seamus didn’t raise his voice, but he might as well have roared by how the single word cut through the room. He waited, but neither Aiden nor Cillian made a sound. Apparently satisfied, their father sat back. “We all mourn Devlin in our own ways. You, of all people, should know that, Cillian. Cut down your drinking and take one of our men with you when you go. I refuse to lose another son to carelessness.”
God forbid another one of your beloved assets slips away. The thought wasn’t fair, but Cillian couldn’t give two fucks. Maybe their father loved them. Maybe he didn’t. But if he did, then he had a hell of a way of showing it.
But Seamus was letting him get off easy this time, and he damn well knew it. “I’ll take an escort.”For now. He pushed to his feet. “If we’redone here—”
“Sit.”
His legs went out from beneath him before he made a conscious decision to obey.
“Bartholomew is retiring. You will begin training with him next week. Once he’s satisfied you know what’s necessary, you will take over his position.”
Next week. He’d known it was coming up fast, but he’d had no ideahowfast.Fuck. It wasn’t that Cillian didn’t like the idea of keeping the family’s books. Ever since he’d shown an aptitude for numbers and the morals required for creative accounting, it was assumed he’d step into that role when the time came. Hell, a part of him had even looked forward to it. He might never run the O’Malleys—and, seriously, that wasn’t a position he aspired to—but with their finances within his control, he’d have the keys to the kingdom, so to speak. Every cent that filtered through their businesses—both legit and illegal—went through the bookkeeper.
But then Devlin died, and Teague was married off and helping to run things on the Sheridan side now. And Carrigan…
Every time he thought about the lost and terrified look on her face when she told him she was going to have to marry a stranger, it made him want to hit something. If that Dmitri guy was any indication, the sharks were already circling, scenting blood in the water. He couldn’t imagine his strong-willed sister married to someone like that. But she didn’t have a choice any more than the rest of them did.
He was getting off easy. He knew that. He’d always known that. Once upon a time, he’d even reveled in the knowledge.
Not anymore.
But that had more to do with him than the job he was expected to step into. There wasn’t much he got excited about these days, and it sure as fuck wasn’t going to be keeping the books with a side of computer hacking that convinced him that the night Devlin died hadn’t been a horrible case of fate making a mistake.
He blinked, realizing that both his father and brother expected a response from him. A harsh laugh slipped free. “I’ll be there.” He stood again. “If there’s nothing else…”
His father waved a hand. “Go.”
“Gladly.” He turned on his heel and marched out of the room before Aiden could chase him down and yell at him for being disrespectful.
It used to be that he didn’t lose sleep over his siblings’ fates—not when he always knewhis. Now he couldn’t stop thinking about them—about what Devlin would be doing if he wasn’t six feet underground. He’d have started his junior year of college in the fall, going about school with the same enthusiasm he went about life. It wasn’t the same way Cillian had always lost himself in the partying and good times. Devlin genuinely enjoyed everything from his morning coffee to the lectures from his professors to whatever book he was buried in at the moment. At twenty, part of him had just been so… young. Full of potential.
Potential that had been cut short because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
And his other siblings?
Teague was fine. Hell, Teague was better than fine. He had a banging-hot wife who seemed to genuinely care about him. If anyone in their family was living the dream, it was Teague. They didn’t see him nearly enough these days, what with his attention being focusedsolely on solidifying the Sheridans’ hold on their portion of Boston. Cillian didn’t blame him for that. His theoretical future kids would be as much Sheridans as O’Malleys—more, really.
Keira and Sloan… He didn’t even know. He’d barely seen them since they got back from the house in Connecticut, and that was indication enough that something was off. Keira was normally in the middle of everything, and for her to be playing least in sight wasn’t a good sign. And Sloan was probably half a day from slitting her wrists in angst.
I’m going to need to talk to her sooner rather than later.
Aiden didn’t seem too torn up about being heir and preparing to step up and take over the family. Cillian had never pegged him for a clone of their father, but then he’d been wrong about a lot of things. What did he know?
And Carrigan… fuck.
He turned the corner and picked up his pace, heading for the door. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do to help Carrigan. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do to helpanyone.
* * *
Carrigan walked into the restaurant and stopped cold. It was totally and completely empty. She glanced back at the door she’d just come through. Surely if it was closed, it would have been locked? She’d been to Slingshot countless times in the last ten years and it didn’t matter the day of the week or the hour, it was always damn near packed. She looked around again, wondering what thehell was going on.
A flustered girl who couldn’t be more than eighteen hurried up. “Ms. O’Malley?”
“Yes…” The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Was this a trap? Dmitri was on her father’s list, so she’d assumed he was safe enough to meet. Surely she hadn’t assumed wrong?Damn it, I know better than this. Where’s Liam?He’d gone to park the car, so he’d be here in just a few minutes. She touched her purse. The Taser was still stashed in the bottom of it. She could use it if she had to—it wouldn’t kill anyone, but it’d give her a chance to run. If there was a legitimate threat, Liam was more equipped to deal with it than she was, no matter how much she hated relying on someone else to ride in and save the day.
“It’s safe.” The Russian accent rolled over her like the best kind of vodka. The man who stepped out from behind the column matched it perfectly. Carrigan had the wild thought that he’d been standing there with the sole purpose of making an entrance, but then he took a step closer and she was too busy staring to speak. He was… well, he was gorgeous. Dark hair styled perfectly. Cheekbones sharp enough to cut, which should have made him look delicate but didn’t in the least. And those gray eyes. Good lord, the man was sex on a stick.
If you didn’t mind that the stick was more likely to beat you to death than fuck you.
