The Marriage Contract (5 page)

And she was the spark that set the whole explosion into motion.

Feeling sick all over again, she grabbed the nearest dress and pulled it on. It was a red number that did wonderful things for her cleavage, but the effect would be dimmed by the scarf required to cover her fading bruises. She wound the light fabric around her throat, wondering how Teague would react. It was imperative that she didn’t give anything away. If he knew
she
was the cause of all this…

There was nothing stopping him from announcing it to the world and turning her over to the Hallorans for justice. Papa might fight for her, but even all the strength he could summon wouldn’t be enough if the other two families thought her death would see justice served.

She stopped.
What if I turned myself in? Would it be enough to stop this?
If it was, wasn’t she honor bound to tell the truth? She slipped on her heels and headed for the garage. Tonight, she was driving herself. Micah would be following at a discreet distance, but at least she’d have the illusion of freedom.

Callie grabbed the first keys her hand touched, and rolled her eyes when the Cadillac chirped in response. She’d prefer something a little subtler, but in the grand scheme of things, her vehicle choice didn’t matter a damn bit. Besides, with the bulletproof glass and reinforced body, this SUV was really more of a tank. If they were truly going to war with the Hallorans, she couldn’t have picked anything safer to drive.

The drive to the restaurant was blissfully uneventful, and it didn’t hit her until she was walking through the front doors that she’d voluntarily agreed to meet Teague alone. Trepidation rose, but she shoved it back. She was more than capable of having a conversation with a man in public without fearing for her safety. But her body wasn’t listening to reason, her skin breaking out in goose bumps and her throat closing. Despite the open floor plan of the restaurant and the low light from candles and conveniently placed lamps, the walls seemed to be inching closer, until she hunched her shoulders in response.

“Callista?”

She jumped, tripping over her heels, and would have gone down if a hand didn’t grab her upper arm and haul her to her feet. She found herself looking up into Teague’s dark eyes. Had she thought them cold? They were dark fire, so deep and soulful that they should belong to a poet instead of an O’Malley who may or may not be the enemy.

He gentled his grip. “Are you okay? You look spooked.”

If he only knew. She’d never been a victim of panic attacks before. But then, she’d never killed anyone before, either. A hysterical laugh tried to muscle its way out of her mouth, but she clamped her teeth together until the urge passed. “I’m fine.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I am.” She couldn’t quite banish the tension from her shoulders, but she managed a half smile.

Teague looked unconvinced. “Our table is this way. I thought some privacy would be our best option.”

Some, but not too much. She took a shaky breath and tried to steel herself. Panicking like this wasn’t an option. Panicking
at all
wasn’t an option. How was she supposed to lead her people into the future if she couldn’t even hold herself together?

Because this is exactly the sort of thing I want to avoid. Murder isn’t supposed to be an option
.

The table he led her to was situated on the other side of a half wall, and lit by two small candles. She slid into the chair that gave her a view of most of the rest of the room, and Teague took the one directly to her right, also putting his back to the wall. They shared a humorless smile. Old habits died hard, apparently.

The waitress appeared and took their drink orders. Once Callie had her wine in hand, she shifted in her seat to look fully at him. “You have me here. What is it you plan to do with me?” The words came out low and flirty, as if inviting him to think dark thoughts. Which wasn’t what she’d intended…even if she was suddenly thinking exactly those types of thoughts. It was all too easy to step back into that alley and remember the feel of his hard muscles beneath her hands and how he’d taken her mouth as if he had every right to it.

Teague leaned back, his tumbler of whiskey hanging loosely in his hand. “I could think of a few things.”

Focus. You’re here to figure out how to solve a problem. Not to flirt.

She couldn’t quite manage to tear her gaze away from the curve of his lips. Everything else about him was so hard and rough, as if carved from stone. But those lips? They were sensual and full and promised the kind of pleasures she could only dream of. She shook her head. “I imagine so.”

“Tell me something.”

She tensed. He was going to ask her about the bruises again. She was sure of it. “What would you like to know?”

“Were you and Brendan together?”

Callie laughed, the sound broken. “No. I’d never met him when my father decided that we should be married.”

“Hmm.” He nodded, as if confirming something to himself. His face gave away nothing of his thoughts, though those dark eyes drank her in as if he couldn’t make himself look away. As if he didn’t want to. “Do you hope I’ll go the same way?”

No
. The vehemence of the thought shocked her. Really, she shouldn’t care one way or another if this man lived or died—as long as it wasn’t her hand holding the gun. He was nothing to her. A stranger she was about to be linked to for the rest of her life. And yet…She took a sip of her wine. “You seem like a decent man.”

He laughed. “There aren’t any decent men in our world, but I’m a hell of a lot better than Brendan.”

She couldn’t argue that. She didn’t even want to. Instead, Callie looked away. “What are we going to do?”

“About the marriage? Or the fact that Victor Halloran is about to bring all sorts of fire and brimstone down on us?”

Both
. But focusing on the impending marriage—just
four weeks
away—was the selfish thing to do. It was more important to head off the Halloran threat before he did any more damage. “The latter.”

Something like disappointment flickered across his features, but it was gone too fast for her to be sure. “In that case, I think we should talk to James. He’s not a bad sort, and he’s miles better than anyone else in his family. If there’s someone who can bring this thing to a grinding halt, it’s him.”

As long as he doesn’t know I’m the one who killed his brother
. Feeling sick, she set her wineglass aside. “Then we should talk to him as soon as possible.” Before Papa or Seamus did something to escalate matters. Twenty-four hours since the shooting and she knew there were plans afoot, even if she didn’t know the details.

“I agree.” Teague pulled out his phone and started dialing.

She stared. “You have James Halloran’s number in your phone?”

“We used to play poker.” There was that flicker again, as if some strong emotion was trying to surface. “But that was a long time ago.”

“Oh.” It seemed such a strange thing, when now that their families were on the verge of trying to kill each other, that he and James used to spend time together regularly enough for Teague to have his number. She waited while Teague left a cryptic message and a request for a call back.

He hung up and pocketed the phone. “Now, we wait.”

The waitress reappeared as if she’d been waiting for the opportunity, and he ordered for both of them before Callie could open her mouth. She sat back as the woman left, not sure if she was impressed by his gall or annoyed.

Teague gave her a look that was almost sheepish. “Sorry. Old habit.”

There seemed to be a lot of those to go around. “I could be a vegetarian. You just ordered me a steak.”

“One—you’re not. The catering menu for our announcement the other night had both red meat and fish on it, so I figured it was safe to assume you had some input on that. Two—I ordered the steak and the salmon. You can have which one sounds best.” He said it so calmly, as if it was perfectly normal for a man to order for a woman he barely knew.

“Whether your deductions are correct or not—and they are—doesn’t matter. I make my own decisions.” The words came out harsher than she intended, but there’d been too many big decisions made without consulting her lately. That wasn’t Teague’s fault, though. She started to apologize, but he beat her there.

“You’re right. I’m being an overbearing ass. I’m sorry.”

She picked up her wine to cover her smile. She liked that he was willing to admit he might have made a mistake. Most of the men she knew would have glossed over it and changed the subject. They might not have ordered for her again in the future, but they wouldn’t have been so willing to apologize. “Thank you for calling James. We accomplished what I came here for.”

“Maybe you did, but I’m nowhere near satisfied.”

The way he said the last word warmed things low in her stomach. “Teague—”

“We have to get to know each other at some point—might as well start now.”

The logic was seriously flawed, but she found herself taking another sip of wine all the same. She
had
joked with Micah about finding out all the O’Malley secrets during dinner. “What would you like to know?”

“Everything.”

She froze, her glass halfway to her lips. The warmth in her stomach burned hotter. “That’s a bit much for a single dinner, don’t you think?”

“Where would you like to start?”

She had no idea. If she was smart, she’d make polite conversation through dinner and get out of here as quickly as she could. This man wasn’t anything like what she’d expected, and that made him dangerous. But she found herself asking, “Do you like being an O’Malley?”

He looked away and took a long drink from his glass. “Do you always go straight for the throat? You could have eased me in with something simple like my favorite color.”

It was the kind of meaningless question she should have asked. This man might be her only ally, and she should be worrying about keeping him in her corner instead of trying to figure out the way his mind worked. But she
needed
to know. So she waited, swirling her wine and watching him wrestle through her question.

Teague finally sighed. “No. I hate it. I’d burn the damn dynasty to the ground if I thought it’d free my siblings, but that’s not an option.”

She went still, unable to believe he’d just told her that. It was the kind of information that someone sinister could easily use against him. If she wanted to hurt the O’Malleys, cozying up to a son who hated them was a good way to go about it. “Ah.”

“You wanted to go in with the big guns, you get big answers.” He gave a humorless smile. “And it’s not new information. All you’d have to do is ask around to realize that my father and I see things differently.”

“You hate it that much?” She could barely wrap her mind around it. Callie didn’t like some of the things that being a Sheridan necessitated, but she
loved
other aspects of it. To her thought process, you dealt with the bad in order to do the most good. Their world was all about balance.

“Look at us, angel. We’re little more than strangers and we’re going to be married inside of four weeks. And that’s the least of my problems—no offense.”

“None taken.” Didn’t she feel exactly the same way? He seemed like a decent enough man, but he was still one that she’d known for a grand total of a single day. The difference between them was that she’d willingly do this and worse to tip the Sheridans onto the right side of the law. “I just can’t imagine hating my family.” As soon as the words were out, she wanted to take them back. It was too personal, too
much
, to admit to this man.

“I don’t. Not really.” He stared into his whiskey. “I just hate the things they do in the name of power.”

“I see.” And, strangely enough, she did. “There’s always good and bad, all mixed together.”

“Exactly.” He finally looked at her, pinning her in place with his gaze. “Though I’ll admit there’s more good to this situation than I would have expected.”

Desire rose up in a tidal wave that had shivers working their way through her body.
Good lord
, the man knew how to turn a conversation into something else entirely with a single look. She reached for her wine again, only to find the glass empty.
Keep it together, Callie. You know how to flirt
.

Yes, she did. But this wasn’t harmless flirting. Nothing about Teague was harmless. He saw too much. He was an O’Malley. And, perhaps most importantly, he was going to be her husband in a very short time.

He seemed to realize her mind was going a million miles a second, because he sat back, breaking the moment. “Now I have a question for you.”

“Yes?” She put as much nonchalance into her tone as she possibly could. The candlelight played along his cheekbones and jaw, the shadows dancing over his cheeks, following a path her fingers itched to trace. What was wrong with her? She should be focusing on what their next move was, not on how intimate it was to sit this close to him.

“Would you have actually married Brendan if someone hadn’t done you the favor of offing him?”

She looked into his dark eyes and couldn’t lie. “No.” That man was a monster. She might regret the events that had brought her to that horrible strip club and put a gun into her hands, but once she knew the truth about him, she never could have signed her life away to him. And if it took her all of a week to find out what kind of man he was, Papa should have known a long time ago. She shifted, the realization sitting like a block of concrete in her stomach. Had he known and gone forward with the engagement anyway?

He must have. There was no other explanation.

“Which begs the question—are you planning on marrying
me
?”

It shouldn’t be different—Teague was just as much a stranger as Brendan had been. But it
was
different. Even knowing him such a short time, she couldn’t shake the belief that he’d never raise a hand against her. That didn’t mean she could trust him, though, unexpectedly revealing information or not. He was loyal to his family first and foremost, the same way she was.

She wanted Teague, and a part of her that didn’t have a lick of sense thought she could trust him. That, more than anything else, made him a potential threat in a way that Brendan never could have been.