Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
God, the realization that she was the cause of his death was still almost enough to have her running for the bathroom.
Would it get better over time? A small part of her almost hoped that it wouldn’t, because that would mean she was different from her father and every Sheridan who’d come before her. Papa wasn’t one to brag about his kills, but Ronan used to huddle down with Callie and whisper about the things he heard Papa’s men talking about. The same man who’d taught her how to ride a bike was also a man who’d killed dozens of people in the name of business and revenge. She still had problems reconciling the two, even though she’d seen more glimpses of that side of him in the last few months than she had in all the twentyfive years leading up to it.
She shivered, the small hairs on the back of her neck standing at attention. Callie turned a slow circle after she shut her bedroom door, but there was no one in the room except her. “Someone just walked over my grave.” She shivered again.
Nothing good would come of this—any of it.
Which was exactly why she’d agreed to go to dinner with Teague tonight. They needed to have a meeting of minds and see if they could come up with a way to get this runaway train back under control. She had a feeling that, left to their own devices, the patriarchs of the three families would be only too happy to set Boston aflame to serve their own purposes.
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.
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?