Page 33 of The Irish Redemption

I hitPlayon the recorded conversation with her mother just to hear her voice and scan through her most recent texts. They’re mostly related to job applications given her recent termination from themotel, with the others all being about food delivery. She hasn’t left her apartment since she was dropped back there other than to collect takeout on the days she deems the cost of delivery to be too high. When I first heard her asking her mother for rent, I was struck with a powerful urge to pay that for her, but that definitely would have raised suspicions. I didn’t want her to know I was watching her.

I just want to check in. Keep her safe.

That’s also why I have one of my men, Dale, tailing her. Not that she ever goes anywhere so his job has mostly been sitting in his car for three days watching her apartment. I’m almost jealous he’s so close and I’m not.

As I flick through her texts, I return to the list of old numbers that she hasn’t contacted in more than six months. There was a period of time when she called the bank a lot, and even a lawyer, but there’s no record of the calls for me to listen to. Other than her mother, her social circle is almost nonexistent. Even her social media is dead, other than a few likes here and there. She’s as different from my life as one could get.

As I listen to her soft voice—and her mother’s less-than-pleasant scrape of tone—my phone rings, and I patch Cian through at the touch of a button. “Hey, little brother.”

“Saoirse still with you?”

“No, she left.”

“Figures. I wanted to catch you both so I didn’t have to say this twice.”

“Out with it.”

Cian takes a breath. “Alright. So this is mostly unconfirmed but I’ve had my ear to the ground. You know the Russians are a mess right now.”

“Saoirse mentioned it, yeah.”

“Since the death of the Pakhan, his daughter’s been fighting like hell to keep her position over every other Russian bastard that thinks they can do it better. Anyway, there’s rumors in a few smaller families that one of the middle families is claiming credit for Brenden.”

“What?” Evelyn’s voice fades from focus. “Who?”

“No name yet. Like I said, it’s rumblings.”

“If I have to carve through every fucking Ruskie to get to the truth, I will,” I snap, shifting in my seat as heat lances down my spine.

“No,” Cian snaps. “No reckless actions, you hear me? Like I said, it’s a rumor. I don’t know if it’s an attempt to destabilize Anastasia’s rule or if someone is just trying to direct us to the Russians and take out an already messy target.”

Cian has a point. A rumor like this is dangerous to act on without proof. “Alright,” I mutter. “We need to do this properly. I need to find out exactly what’s going on. Can you get me a meeting with the Godmother?”

“Will do. And get some rest, will you?”

Rolling my eyes, I end the call, but before I can turn back to my computer, Dale’s name pops up on my screen. I answer immediately.

“You need relief?” I ask, expecting Dale to be in need of a bathroom break or sleep.

“Nah, not until sunrise,” Dale replies. “But we have an issue.”

“Which is?”

“Evelyn had a visitor. A man. He arrived maybe an hour ago and I’ve been running his face through the Cops’ database as well as our own to see if I can find out who the guy is.”

A man? Does Evelyn have a man? Acidic jealousy fizzes at the base of my throat. “And?” I bark.

“I found him.”

“And?”

“Boss, he’s Russian.”

14

EVELYN

Forty-eight hours.

---