Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Get up, you piece of shit. Get up and walk away from this woman right now.
She deserves better than you.
But she turned those dark eyes on him, and he found himself rooted in place. “Stay, Jude. You’re probably right that more sex would be a poor idea, but…just stay.”
It took more strength than he could have dreamed to slide his hand from beneath hers and stand. “That’s not what this is. We don’t sleep together. You come for me. I come. We fuck until we’re tired of each other. Then we move on. End of story.” He should have just left it there, but the wounded look on her face spurred him to his knees. He hooked the back of her neck and pulled her up into a kiss, splashing water everywhere. Her hands came to his chest, not pushing him away, but not drawing him closer.
He shifted and licked the shell of her ear. “This might not be forever, sunshine, but you’re mine for the duration. And I take care of what’s mine.”
Chapter Seven
Aiden O’Malley stared at the papers on his desk, wanting nothing more than to throw them into the fire. His brother Cillian had brought in the report with the mail earlier today, but he’d only gotten around to opening it now. A small miracle, since for once he was alone in his father’s massive office. No one needed to see what he’d just read, the undeniable proof in photos and phone taps, showcasing one seriously fucked-up truth.
They had a rat.
One who was high enough up in the ranks as to pose a very true threat. One he couldn’t touch without inciting the war they’d all worked so hard to hold off. All of that was bad, but it wasn’t the worst part of the whole situation. He sat back and ran his hands over his face, feeling a hundred years old.
His motherfucking brother.
Cursing under his breath, he picked up the envelope and flipped it over. There was no return address, but that fact was less important than the contents of the file. There were pictures of his brother meeting with the FBI, wiretaps detailing the information he’d shared, even a report detailing how the FBI had saved Teague’s life when shit had gone down with the Hallorans, transporting him and Callie to the hospital before they went forward with their sting. There were only a handful of people capable of this level of surveillance—and who had reason to put this much effort into following his brother around.
Aiden flipped through the photos again, part of him wishing he’d see something different this time, while the practical side of him knew better. “Goddamn it, Teague. What the fuck were you thinking?”
More importantly, what had he let slip? Their entire business—their entire life—depended on flying below the radar of law enforcement, and his goddamn brother had been willingly handing that information over in return for…Fuck, he didn’t know. There weren’t payoffs, though that sort of thing would be hard to track. The only one messing with O’Malley business appeared to be Dmitri Romanov, and Aiden highly doubted that man was in bed with the feds. The only thing that stood out as too coincidental was the raid on the Hallorans. Teague had definitely had something to do with that.
Even then, only a few of their men were arrested. Those fuckers had their eyes on the prize—Victor Halloran. That old bastard was currently living out what remained of his days in federal prison. Good riddance.
Doesn’t mean they won’t come for us eventually, armed with whatever information my brother gave them.
The only silver lining to the whole shit show was that Teague had never been privy to certain information because he was neither the heir nor the one running the books.
But he still knew plenty to damn them and the Sheridans, both. God, what would Callie say?
Aiden eyed the phone. He could call Teague right now, arrange a meet up, and…What? Try to force him to confess everything? Threaten him?
It’s what their father would have done.
But, as everyone was so fond of reminding him, he wasn’t their father. He might be close these days, but he couldn’t make himself go through with it. They’d already lost a brother to circumstances that might have been avoidable. To lose another over shit like this? Maybe he was weak, but Aiden couldn’t pull the trigger, proverbially or otherwise.
Not to mention, he was pretty fucking sure Teague was behind Sloan’s convenient disappearance two weeks ago. Of them all, Teague was the only one not going mad with worry. New papers weren’t hard to get ahold of if someone knew where to look.
Especially when that someone had the goddamn FBI in his pocket.
His gaze shifted to the other man in the photos, one John Finch. Aiden drummed his fingers on the desk, considering. He might not be willing to take irreversible steps with Teague, but this agent had no such protections in place.