Page 37 of The Irish Redemption

“Everything being the fact that we’ve only known each other a handful of days?”

Evelyn blinks owlishly at me, then nods. She closes her eyes as I wipe at her wounds with the antiseptic wipe, and when she hisses in pain, my gut tightens with unexpected guilt.

“If I wasn’t injured,” she asks quietly, “would you have just yelled at me until you killed me?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Then why did you stop?”

“Same reason you stopped yelling at me,” I say, discarding the antiseptic wipes. “I took a breath and my focus shifted. I don’t know whatwould have happened if I didn’t suddenly want to clean you up because I’m angry. Everything reads like you’re secretly the enemy, and if you can’t convince me otherwise, then I guess we’ll find out.”

Evelyn sighs deeply as if the exhaustion came from the depths of her soul. “I’m not a spy. I’m not Russian. I didn’t even know Harry was, okay? He’s just a loan shark and I owe him a load of money.”

“You owe him money?” Selecting some butterfly stitches, I use my fingers against her jaw to encourage her head to the side so I can close the small wound on her eyebrow.

“Yeah. I…” Evelyn groans. “Suppose it doesn’t matter now, does it? I was in debt. A lot of debt because I like credit cards. Stuff made me happy because I had nothing else. Anyway, my spending habits didn’t match my income and I was losing everything to so many companies, so I just found a loan shark, borrowed some money, and then paid them off.”

Evelyn is in debt. Is that really all this is? Everything points to something else—led by my anger, it seems. I struggle to wrap my head around it as I apply the stitches and she continues to talk.

“Only, Harry ended up putting a lot of interest on what I borrowed. Like, insane amounts of interest, and I was working it off slowly, but then he heard I was at the police station and he thought I was reporting him or something. He got angry and…” She waves one hand loosely up to her face.

The strange anger inside me grows as I place the last stitch. I’m going to find Harry, and I’m going to kill him.

“So I don’t know anything about what you are talking about, okay? And you’re a fucking asshole for not just coming here and asking me about it.”

She’s right.

It pisses me off, but she’s right.

I get up slowly and clean away the blood-stained cotton and wipes, then stand by the counter and grip the edge with one hand. I got this wrong. So wrong. I was completely blinded by the thought that I’d fucked someone tied to Brenden’s death and that the woman I was rapidly becoming infatuated with was the enemy. I almost wanted her to confess so I could attribute my feelings to grief, kill her, and move on.

But she’s innocent. Harry’s being on the Russian payroll could just be a coincidence, but it’s almost too perfect. Who knows what else will go wrong if I take my eye off the ball now?

“So?” Evelyn asks as my silence drags on. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

I look over at her. “How much do you owe him?”

She winces faintly and looks away. “Two hundred and fifty thousand.”

“Oh.”

That’s nothing, at least to me. A quick glance at Evelyn’s apartment and that’s likely more money than she’s ever seen in her life, beyond her credit cards. “I…” Pausing, I search for the right thing to say. Maybe there is no perfect way to say it. “I understand. And I believe you.”

“You’re not acting like you believe me,” Evelyn says with a pointed glance at the hallway leading to her broken front door.

“Harry being with the Russians and their trying to claim credit for the kill is…” I shake my head. “It’s too much for me to get into with you, but if you really are as innocent as you say, then there’s a chance Harry marked you.”

“Marked me?”

“Yes. Brenden was at that motel a few times and you work there. Getting into debt with Harry puts you on a list of people they can useto get what they want. Maybe you were their way into the motel to get to him.”

“But I–I didn’t do anything, I swear. Harry never mentioned the motel and he’s never been violent until tonight when he thought I was handing him over to the cops.”

“Doesn’t matter. It could have been something small you did that helped them unknowingly, or you were just a backup plan.” Rubbing my jaw, my beard scratches at my palm as I try to decipher their plan in my mind. Without Harry, though, all I can do is guess.

“So you burst in here thinking I’m a spy, then patch me up, and now you’re on my side?” Evelyn narrows her eyes. “I don’t think I believe you.”

“Then don’t,” I say. “I’m… sorry about your door. I was furious because I thought I’d let you get close to me when really, you were a culprit.”

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