Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Carrigan led the way into a master suite that was downright ostentatious. The bed looked big enough to sleep six people, and the doorway leading into the bathroom was more like a massive arch into another world.

Her sister flopped down onto the bed and cast a critical eye on her. “You haven’t slept in a couple of days.”

“Something like that.” She perched on the edge of the mattress. “I…I’m sorry for the way I treated you. I was unforgivable in acting so holier-than-thou. I’m starting to understand now everything you had to go through.”

“I see that.” Carrigan rolled onto her side and propped her head on her hand. “Unlike some of the men of our family, I’m well aware that you know your own mind. You got out, Sloan. You took that step, and I’m seriously proud of you for doing it.”

Hearing her sister’s words warmed her more than she could have thought possible. “Teague got me out.”

“Wrong. Teague offered you the chance. You are the one who took it. That was incredibly brave.” Her lips twisted. “Braver than I was. I almost married Dmitri Romanov rather than leave the family behind.”

Sloan hadn’t spent much time wondering how a talk like this would go with Carrigan—mostly because she’d done her best not to think too much about her sister at all. They had always been so incredibly different, but she’d never doubted that Carrigan loved her.

Not even when she’d run off with a Halloran.

“He loves you, you know.” Sloan didn’t realize she was going to say the words until they were out. “James.”

“I know.” Her sister smiled. “The feeling is excessively mutual. But we’re not here to talk about my gorgeous specimen of a man—we’re here to talk about yours. I find it too much of a coincidence to believe that you fled across the country and magically happened to fall into the arms of the last remaining MacNamara. Did he gun for you?”

Of them all, she thought Carrigan might understand and let her get out the whole story without jumping to conclusions. The woman had, after all, fallen for a man who had thrown her into the trunk of his car and taken her to an almost-certain death at the hands of his father. Compared to that, Jude was almost tame.

No, he’s not. And you’re stalling.

“Not for me, not like that. I was staying in a house owned by Callie’s aunt.”

“I didn’t realize Callie had an aunt.” Carrigan’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit, he was gunning for her—because she’s a Sheridan.”

It didn’t surprise her that her sister caught on so quickly. Carrigan had always been a force of nature with a deadly sharp mind. If their father had seen that from the beginning, he wouldn’t have wasted her in a political marriage. But then, she was a woman, so in the end it wouldn’t have mattered to Seamus O’Malley. Sloan forced herself back to the topic at hand. “An O’Connor now, but yes.”

“Can’t say I blame him. If someone did to our family what Colm Sheridan did to the MacNamaras, I would hunt every last one of them to extinction.” There was no amusement in her eyes, only ruthless determination. “And if someone laid a hand on James, I’d skin them alive.”

“I know.” Sloan was beginning to understand that fierceness, if only a little. She wasn’t ready to declare war on her brother for shooting Jude, but she wanted to…she didn’t even know. Punch him, at the very least.

“So that begs the question—what the hell are you two going to do?” Carrigan sat up. “If you say you’re going to help him keep up murdering Sheridans, I’m stepping in. I know you care about him—I’d have to be an idiot not to see that—but Callie is family now. Teague is our brother.”

“He shot Jude.”

She froze. “You’re serious?”

Just thinking about it made her angry all over again. Before she’d left Boston, she didn’t think she’d had a temper. Now? Now rage seemed to be her gut instinct. It was slightly terrifying. She pressed her lips together, trying to rein it in. “He put a tracker on me and hunted me down despite my telling him that I was more than capable of deciding for myself what I wanted.”

Carrigan watched her through narrowed eyes. “I’m not siding with him.”

“But you’re about to say something I won’t like.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Say it.”

“Teague can be an insufferable martyr at times, but he’d die for us. For Callie and their baby? He’d kill the world. Your needs have nothing to do with it. He just found out that you’re shacking up with a MacNamara, a man who has every reason to hate his wife’s family and want them dead. I can’t say I’d react any differently.” She gave a half smile. “Though I’d make sure my shot actually hit something vital.”

Her sister was downright terrifying at times. “I’m not pretending that Jude isn’t a threat, but he cares about me.” Maybe if she could make her sister understand, Sloan could persuade the others. “He put his plan for revenge on hold. He promised that he wouldn’t hurt Sorcha or Callie.” Unless he’s suddenly changed his mind after what Teague did. “We just wanted nine months to figure out if we could make a life work together.”

“Nine…No. Sloan, tell me you’re not saying what I think you’re saying.”

She hadn’t meant to let that slip. She looked away, and then back, well aware that the truth was written all over her face. “It was an accident.”

Carrigan pinched the bridge of her nose. “Let me get this straight. You are knocked up with a little MacNamara baby, your baby daddy is gunning for the Sheridan family—who your brother, occasional idiot or not, is now a part of—and this guy obviously cares about you if he’s carting you around to his safe houses when he could have just disappeared into the night.”

“That pretty much sums it up.” Though it felt strange to hear it laid out in such bald terms.

“Do you love him?”

“I…I don’t know.” She cleared her throat. “I’m like a different person with him, stronger, fiercer. I…I like it. I crave him with an intensity I never imagined possible, and I like him. He’s overbearing and high-handed, but he only steamrolls me in the bedroom. I don’t know what kind of life we could lead, but I want it all the same.”

Carrigan’s eyes went wide. “Shit, Sloan. That sounds a whole lot like love.”

It did, didn’t it? But she couldn’t let it go, not now that she had someone who might understand to talk to. Sloan grabbed a throw pillow from the mountain piled on the bed and hugged it to her chest. “But how do I know for sure? You know I was sheltered before I left the family. I didn’t date, didn’t do…anything. It’s entirely possible that I fell for the first man I slept with simply because I slept with him, and now pregnancy hormones are coloring my view. How am I supposed to call this love when I have nothing to compare it to?”

Her sister laughed. “That, at least, I have an answer for.” She picked at one of the tassels on the pillow nearest to her. “You know. I’ve been with enough guys that I can tell you that for sure. It’s not the cocks that matter, as enjoyable as they can be. It’s the person attached to them who makes the difference. That said, if you’re not sure of Jude, then don’t jump into anything with him. Go slow, figure your way through it.”

There were a lot of elements of their current situation that Sloan wasn’t sure of—her family, her future, Jude’s vendetta—but the man himself wasn’t on the list. “What if I am sure of him?”

Carrigan shrugged. “Then nothing you find after him is going to compare. Life is too short, Sloan. If you want the man, then fight for the man.” She finally smiled. “He’s a beast in the bedroom, isn’t he? You can tell just by looking at him.”

She laughed like Carrigan obviously intended for her to. “I’ll never tell.” But as soon as her amusement appeared, it faded. Sloan stared down at the intricately woven pillow and then finally raised her gaze to her sister’s knowing dark eyes. “It does sound a whole lot like love, doesn’t it?”

*  *  *

“They’ll never accept you.”

Jude took the beer James passed over, careful not to jar his side. As he’d suspected, his wound was a clean exit. It would hurt like a bitch for a while, but he’d feel more like himself by morning.

He looked at the man across from him. A threat to be sure, though it was his woman who had cold eyes. This man might beat an enemy to death, but it wouldn’t be without provocation. Carrigan O’Malley would gut an enemy before they had a chance to hurt her or those she cared about. He’d only done passing research on the O’Malleys, but nothing in that report had prepared him for Sloan’s sister. Her family had lost a major asset when they drove her into Halloran’s arms.

She and Dmitri Romanov would have brought the East Coast to its knees.

Thank Christ that marriage hadn’t happened.

“I’m aware dealing with the family won’t be easy.” As he found out a few hours ago, Teague O’Malley wouldn’t hesitate to pull the fucking trigger. He doubted the rest of the O’Malley family would be any different.

“I’ll tell you what I told Sloan—the safest place for her is in Boston.”

Jude couldn’t stay in Boston for more than a few hours without essentially calling down the dogs of hell on his head. Take his woman and his child away from him? Over his dead fucking body. “Not gonna happen.”

“I suggest you think really fucking carefully about your next step.” James took a long pull from his beer. “The Hallorans, O’Malleys, and Sheridans are tied together tighter than ever. You can’t take on one without dealing with the other two.”

James had no idea the Romanovs were involved now, too, and Jude had no intention of telling him.

“You don’t know the whole story.” Though it could be argued that Jude didn’t, either. He had only the scant details of that night from his mother. The official report had been buried by the Boston police.

“Maybe not.” James shrugged. “And, trust me, I understand the need for retribution. I’d be on the warpath in a heartbeat if someone took Carrigan from me. I might not live to see the next dawn, but I’d ensure that those responsible paid dearly.” His blue eyes narrowed. “Could you say you’d do any different for Sloan?”

I would kill them, burn their house to the ground, and salt the earth behind me.

James nodded like he’d answered even though he hadn’t said a damn word. “Yeah, I thought so.”

Jude knew Sloan had enemies. Fuck, she had almost as many as he did, through sheer accident of birth. Romanov had given his word not to harm her, but she’d have an even bigger target on her back once it became known she was pregnant with his child. If someone took her, hurt her, used her or their child against him…

Yeah, he could see James’s point.

Fuck.

“Don’t cross Callista Sheridan. She is her father’s daughter, and she won’t react any differently than you are now.”

He had no intention of harming Callista. Not now, not when he had a living, breathing reason not to. But if he took out the one person truly responsible—Colm—she might retaliate and this cycle would begin again.

Which is exactly what Sloan warned me about.

Jude rubbed a hand over his face, suddenly exhausted. There was no way out of this where he wasn’t either betraying his mother’s memory or hurting the woman he had come to care about. The mother of his child.

Footsteps had him lifting his head as Sloan walked into the room, her sister on her heels. She looked like heaven. It didn’t matter that she was wearing his sweatshirt, the huge size of it making her seem younger than she was. Or that there were dark circles under her eyes and she was paler than normal.

She looks like home.

She held her hand out to him, much the same way he’d done to her during their time together. “Let’s go to bed.”

He stood with some effort and took her hand, allowing her to lead him through a different door than the one she’d just come out of. It was decorated much the same way as the rest of the penthouse—ridiculously overdone—but the bed actually looked inviting.

“Doc Jones said no shower for the time being, but I could offer a sponge bath.” Her smile was a shadow of its former self.

He used one hand to pull the sweatshirt off her, and her T-shirt and panties quickly followed. “Help me get out of these jeans.”

It took some work to get them off, but then he stood before her, both of them naked. She licked her lips, but even that was halfhearted. She was practically weaving on her feet, and he wasn’t much better. “Come to bed with me, sunshine.”

“You don’t sleep.”

“I’ll make an exception this time.” The events of the day were catching up with him, his side one big ball of fury and pain, his head pounding in time with his heart. And he’d been unconscious for part of it. He hadn’t had the emotional toll on top of the physical one like Sloan had. She needed sleep, not sex. Comfort.

He was shit-all for giving comfort, but he’d do his best.

Jude pulled back the covers and half sat, half fell onto the mattress. He cursed, but managed to get settled without too much trouble. Sloan slipped in next to him, carefully adjusting herself so she wasn’t touching his injured side. He propped his chin on the top of her head and just held her. “I’m sorry about your brother.”

“He’s doing what he thinks is best. It doesn’t make it okay, but…I do understand.”

Jude understood, too.

Which was the crux of the problem. Her sister aside—and even that was in question—there wasn’t a single person in Sloan’s life who would sit back and allow her to ride off into the sunset with Jude. They would all fight it, for one reason or another.

Stop letting emotions fuck with your head and come up with a plan. That’s what you’re good at. Figure out the options and do what it takes to keep Sloan and the baby safe.

No matter what the cost.