Page 36 of The Irish Redemption

He found nothing.

Shit.

Hank appears next, moving around Dale, and his eyes widen at the sight of Evelyn’s beaten face then he looks at me. “You need anything?”

“Yeah. Go and get some food. She’s been drinking heavily, by the smell of the place. And bring the kit from the car.”

“I’m right here, y’know,” she mutters grumpily, picking at some of the white paint peeling off her table.

“And Dale, I want eyes on Harry.”

“On it.” Dale leaves without questions, but Hank lingers.

“Hank. Go.”

“Boss.” He still refuses to move. “Leaving you alone wasn’t part of the plan.”

“I have a new plan,” I say, setting the kettle to boil and finding some cotton balls in a top cabinet. “Go.”

Hank’s uncertain gaze moves to Evelyn, then he finally nods and disappears from the doorway. He’s back a few minutes later with the medical kit and after another wary glance at Evelyn, he leaves.

“Does he think I’m going to kill you the moment he leaves or something?” Evelyn mutters, her tone still irritated, but at least she’s not screaming at me right now.

“Probably,” I reply. “Are you?”

“If I have to tell you I’m not a spy one more time, then yeah, maybe.”

“It doesn’t look good for you, Evelyn.”

“Nothing else does. But God forbid we have an actual conversation. You’ve already got me at the gallows.”

“Fine.” Pouring the warmed water into a cup, I sit next to her at the table and fight back a wince as the chair creaks loudly under my bulk. “Let’s talk.”

Evelyn glares at me. “Maybe I don’t want to now because you’re a fucking asshole.”

“Fine. I’ll talk.” I pull the kit toward me and pop it open while soaking some of the cotton pad in the hot water. Then I catch her chin in one hand and tilt her head to the side. She doesn’t fight me, but she’s visibly irritated. “Russians are claiming credit for Brenden’s death. A man on the Russian payroll is seen leaving your apartment. A man you’ve had a lot of contact with these past six months. He was even a guest at the motel at one point.”

Evelyn shifts under my gaze and winces as I start to clean the split wound at her eyebrow. “How do you know all that?”

“One I have a name and a face, there’s nothing I can’t find out.”

She rolls her eyes but remains silent.

“Do you see how it looks?”

“Maybe,” Evelyn mutters. “But I don’t really care because you already decided I was awful the moment you kicked in my door.” Evelyn groans. “Do you even know how much that will cost to repair? My landlord will flip out.”

Dabbing gently at her eye, I clean away the dried blood around her eye, then down to her lip. We remain silent. Each stroke of warm cotton against her lower lip pulls the flesh slightly, parting her lips. It's difficult not to think about how good she tasted when I kissed her or how I’d happily leave a wound like that on her lips with my teeth.

It’s different, though, knowing someone else did this to her.

“I’ll fix your door.”

“I don’t need your help,” she mutters darkly.

“You do. Because I’m not the only one who thinks you had a hand in killing Brenden. So you wanna talk yet or should I just continue down this path and kill you?” Releasing her chin, I turn to the medical kit and seek out antiseptic wipes.

“Does it even matter?” She sighs, pressing her palms flat together. “You already made up your mind despite everything.”

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