Page 61 of Heated Rivals
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James couldn’t shake the nasty mood that made him want to punch something. It was a bad place to be in because he had important shit going on tonight. Meeting the flesh traders without his head on straight was just asking for trouble. He met Michael in the kitchen. The man leaned against the counter, hunched over a cup of what smelled like coffee. “Morning, boss.”
“Everything a go for tonight?”
“As good as it gets. I have men posted at the transfer spot making sure we don’t have any surprises when the time comes.”
Smart. He poured himself a cup of coffee. “I get through tonight with money in my pocket and without getting shot, and you’re getting a bonus.”
Michael gave a toothy grin. “Just what I live for.” He slurped his coffee. “I’m going to check on the boys. Unless you need something else?”
“Go.” He waved the man away. There was nothing to say to Michael that he didn’t already know. A good leader delegated when possible, and his second in command had proven he was capable of handling whatever shit arose. Michael had barely been gone thirty seconds when Ricky saunteredthrough the door.
“Hey, James.”
He set the mug down. “Ricky.” It’d only been a few days since he let his little brother out of the basement, but there had been no incidents. It was almost too much to hope that that would continue for the next few days until he left for California. He wasn’t about to let his guard down—Ricky was rarely up before noon, let alone at this early hour. He wanted something. “What can I do you for?”
“The deal you have going on tonight. I want in.” He held up his hands, not that James was rushing to jump in and fill the silence. “Just hear me out. I brokered this deal, and I busted my ass to get the contacts in place so that these two would trust us enough to bring the shipment in. I deserve to be there.”
Considering he didn’t trust his brother with the women at Tit for Tat who voluntarily worked the darker aspects of their trade, he sure as fuck wasn’t going to trust him with a container full of terrified refugees in God only knew what state. That being said, it wasn’t like he was going to send Ricky off without someone to watch his back—and make sure he didn’t do anything shady. James would be there to ensure things stayed on target, and he wouldn’t look the other way if his brother tried something. Maybe this would be the thing that would get them started on a better path.
Or maybe Ricky was just waiting for him to lower his guard so he could slit James’s throat.
He took another drink of coffee, watching his brother over the rim of his mug. “If I say yes—if—then you follow orders. I don’t care if I tell you to strip down buck-ass naked and run through the street, you do it with no questions asked.Understand?”
Ricky gave a sharp nod. “I get it. You say jump and I ask how high. So can I go or not?”
Fuck, he just wanted to punch the shit out of his brother. The feeling used to be the exception to the rule. Now it was all he ever felt. Whatever friendship they’d had had died with Brendan. Maybe it had never existed in the first place. “Yeah. Talk to Michael about where he wants you.” James would be talking to Michael, too. He didn’t intend on letting his baby brother out of his sight tonight.
“Will do.” Ricky hurried out of the kitchen like he was afraid James was about to change his mind. Good riddance.
He checked the time. Ten hours until the meeting. Too long. He wanted to keep in motion, to keep from thinking about the reality lurking in the back of his mind. Carrigan was gone, and he still didn’t have fuck all for a plan of getting her back.
He made his way to the gym and spent the next hour working his body to the breaking point. It didn’t matter how many reps he did, he couldn’t escape the way his chest hurt with every breath. He felt like the walking wounded, still going through the motions despite missing vital parts of his body. He dropped the dumbbells with a curse. This wasn’t working, and every minute that passed pushed him closer to doing something stupid like driving over to the O’Malley house and demanding to see her.
It wasn’t what a good leader would do. He’d be putting everything he’d busted his ass for in jeopardy for a woman.Not just any woman.It didn’t matter. She was one person. He couldn’t endanger everyone under his command for a single person—not even when his own happinesswas on the line.
There’s a way around it. There has to be. He just had to find it.
A shitty plan formed in his mind, but a shitty plan was better than no plan. He put the weight room back into order and then went up to his room to shower and change. Twenty minutes later he was in the Chevelle and dialing his phone.
Teague answered almost immediately. “I didn’t expect to hear from you again.” Not outside of formal negotiations.
James drummed his fingers on the wheel. “I’m not going to make excuses for what happened before. I should have done something differently—somethingmore.” They’d seen each other since the night Callista was captive and escaped with Carrigan in tow from his family home, but he and Teague hadn’t really talked. He got it that the man hated him. He’d hate anyone who willingly put Carrigan in danger, too. He shook his head. “I fucked up. And I’m sorry for that.”
“You did.” He sighed. “But there were more than a few fuckups to go around. You could have stopped Callie’s escape before it even started and you didn’t. That means something.”
All he’d done was step aside. It had felt like a risk then, but looking back it was nowhere near enough. He should have escorted them out. “If I could go back—”
“I know. Me, too. We can’t go back. We can only go forward.” Teague paused, the sound of a woman’s voice in the background. “But you didn’t call today to apologize and shoot the shit.”
“No, I didn’t.” Now that he was on the line, though, he wasn’t sure what to say. Teague might not hate him, but he was a long way off giving his blessing forJames to steal Carrigan away. He probably wouldn’t respond as violently as his other brothers, but no way would he think James was good enough for her. Hell, he was right. But there was no one else to turn to. He had to man up and broach the subject, and hope that Teague hated the idea of his older sister married to some Russian from New York as much as James did. “You know your old man’s making Carrigan marry some stranger.”
“I’m aware.” And pissed as hell if his tone was anything to go by.
It was now or never. “I’m not going to let that happen.”
The silence stretched into one minute, and then two. Finally Teague said, far too calmly, “I might have lost my fucking mind, but you seem to be insinuating that you and my sister have something going on.”
