Page 19 of The Irish Redemption

All of that is my brother’s legacy, and my mother’s to an extent. It feels strange to list out our victories while the man responsible lies in the morgue across the street.

“So sure, we’re criminals,” I finish. “But we take care of the people better than any suit or cop ever will.”

Evelyn swallows and scrunches up the chocolate wrapper in her hand. “Oh.”

“Feel better?” I ask, indicating to the finished chocolate.

She glances down at her hand, and her realization is visible on her face as she nods. “Yeah… I guess.”

“Your blood sugar was low. That coupled with stress is likely the reason you passed out.”

“Breaking the law so an Irish Mafia man doesn’t murder me is pretty stressful,” Evelyn mutters, but the heat of her fury has died down somewhat and her shoulders slump. “Didn’t know you guys worked like that.”

“Not many people do. I don’t speak for other families, only mine,” I say. “We are territorial and loyal, and my brother, Brenden…” My throat closes briefly, and I swallow down the growing lump. “His death brings us on the brink of something terrible that isn’t your concern. But you have to understand that he was what was best for this city and someone killed him, so I will do everything and anything I can to find out who the fuck did it. Including using you to plant bugs on the detective because apparently, money doesn’t speak to her.”

Sighing deeply, I drag one hand down my face and slide it around to the tight muscles at the back of my neck.

“And Brenden was my brother. I need to find out what happened to him. So I’m sorry that you are in a tough situation, but I’m not sorry for using you because he is—was—important to me. I loved him.” I meet her gaze. “And I will do anything to bring his killer to justice.”

“Wow,” Evelyn says softly, reaching for the water bottle. “I can’t even fathom that kind of love.”

“Your family would do the same for you,” I say, “if they had my means.”

She doesn’t reply. She merely drinks a few gulps of the water and then lowers the bottle. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“That if I did this, I would be free to go? I want to go home.”

“I need one more thing from you.”

Her eyes narrow and her shoulders slope down. “What thing?”

Approaching the table, I hold her gaze and for a long while, she doesn’t look away.

“I need to know why Brenden was at the motel.”

“I already told you, I don’t know him. I didn’t see him and had no idea he was there.”

“I believe you,” I say firmly, and her eyes widen a fraction. “But I can’t get into the crime scene. I need to get eyes in there to see if he left anything behind.”

“Wouldn’t the cops have it already if there were something?”

“Brenden is smarter than the fucking cops,” I snap, fighting to keep the heat out of my voice. “I need my eyes in there. But I can’t get in there. None of my people can. But you can because you work there.”

Evelyn chews on her lower lip and glances away, crinkling the waterbottle under her tightening grip. “I don’t want to go back in there,” she whispers.

“You don’t have a choice,” I reply flatly, but this time there’s an odd bubble of static under my ribs at the thought of forcing her.

“Will you kill me if I refuse?” She lifts those big eyes back to me.

“Yes.” And yet, that feels like a lie.

Evelyn drags a hand through her hair and sighs so deeply it’s a wonder she doesn’t deflate herself. “Fine,” she mutters. “But this is the last thing, you understand? I’m not doing anything else and I don’t care if you kill me for it.”

8

EVELYN

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