Page 49 of The Irish Redemption

A soft chuckle rises from Hank who stands behind me, ever my vigilant guard. Hazel and her family have run The Black Ox for longer than anyone cares to remember. It’s the only place in the entire state that can be called neutral ground, regardless of the family you are from. Many treaties and deals have been hashed out at these tables,along with the smothering of potential conflicts and even a marriage or two. The Black Ox is a legend, and anyone who is anyone in this line of work knows that Hazel and her bar are not to be messed with. If anyone dared, they would have the full might of every family crashing down at their door.

This is why this is the perfect place for me to meet the Russian Godmother. It’s the only way I can guarantee I won’t shoot her on sight before I get my answers. Leaving Evelyn alone with Dale and a few of my men is the best choice, even if every part of me aches to be back with her. It’s a feeling I’ve never had to battle with before and it’s a strange sensation, almost like loss. As if I left a piece of myself with her in that apartment.

Saoirse slides a beer over to me with a silent raise of her brow. She can tell I’m tense and she wants to relax me before the Russians get here, but beer won’t help. Nothing will.

If my intel is right, my brother’s killer is about to walk through that door.

I need every drop of my focus.

Twenty minutes later, the door of The Black Ox swings open and in stride two burly men clad in red shirts and black leather jackets. They’re followed by a beautiful woman with poker-straight platinum blonde hair and striking green eyes. Anastasia Remizova is around my age but wasn’t raised the same way I was. It was common knowledge how desperately her father was trying to marry her off to someone rich and successful to try and stop the great Russian flagship from sinking into obscurity. His assassination was the talk of the town for a few months until Anastasia herself became the news. She refused to bend to the will of the generals in her family and then had them all killed for questioning her.

In one night, Anastasia proved herself to be tactical and ruthless, even if she’s still fighting for power within her own ranks. Which makes it even more believable that she would act out and come after Brenden.

Despite this, she has the same look of apprehension on her face that I feel in my heart. Being thrust suddenly into power carries a certain weight that’s hard to grow accustomed to when everyone is suddenly looking at you for direction and answers.

“Ana!” Hazel greets her with a smile. “Are you drinking tonight?”

“No,” Anastasia replies with a tight smile, and her Russian accent is sharp to the ears. “Business only, I’m afraid.”

“A shame,” Hazel replies, and her eyes dart to mine with a warning. Peace is the only currency here.

Anastasia approaches my table, and I wait until she’s a foot away before I stand. My brother and sister were on their feet the moment she entered, but I’m not here to keep relations smooth. Not if Brenden’s blood is on Russian hands.

“So.” Anastasia sits across from me and crosses one leather-clad leg over the other, resting her long red fingernails against her knee. “You’ve been causing me a lot of trouble, Cormac.”

“Not enough,” I reply shortly, sitting. Saoirse sits down, but Cian remains standing, squaring up to one of the Russian bodyguards who steps too close. Tension clogs the air as Anastasia and I hold one another’s gaze. Cian refuses to back down despite the Russian having at least sixty pounds over him.

Then Hazel appears and slams a bucket of ice down onto the table, making everyone flinch. “Don’t make me go over the rules,” she states sharply. “No blood, you hear?” She glares at me, then Anastasia. Then she departs after an affectionate pat on Saoirse’s shoulder.

“You killed Brenden,” I say as the Russian guard steps back and Cian relaxes a fraction.

“No,” Anastasia replies.

“Yes,” I snap, and anger ignites like a hot flame in my chest. “The onlything keeping you alive right now is Hazel, do you understand? You kill my brother then dare sit across from me and deny it?”

Anastasia tilts her head and presses her dark lips together. “I have no interest in war with you Irish,” she remarks. “You are misinformed.”

“You’re a liar!”

“Look.” Saoirse cuts me off quickly and leans one arm on the table. “We know Russian hands caused the death of our brother. We have a witness. She was being scouted by a loan shark on your payroll, and he was a frequent guest of the motel where Brenden was murdered.”

“And?” Anastasia raises one sharp brow.

“When we confronted him, our only witness was stabbed,” I say, curling my hands into fists beneath the table. I want to reach across the table and punch that smug look off her face, then force her to tell me exactly who killed Brenden and why she thought she would get away with it. The rules of this place are the only things keeping me still, but my blood runs hotter with each passing beat of my heart.

“Name?” Anastasia asks.

“Harry Fox.” Saoirse slides a thin paper folded toward Anastasia. “He was very forthcoming about who he works for after Cian was finished with him.”

Anastasia opens the paper and takes in the information gathered on Harry after Evelyn was stabbed. Cian beat him until Harry spilled everything and anything about who he worked for, but none of it was any use. So we’d let him go.

She purses her lips and then passes the paper to one of her guards. “He is one of mine,” she admits.

I lurch faintly in my seat. Under the table, Saoirse’s leg knocks into mine.

“But I have more important shit to be dealing with than trying to make a move on the Irish. As soon as you started on our territory, I had some of my own people look into why you would make a move against me. Imagine my surprise when I was able to trace my own men to the cause.” Anastasia snaps her fingers, and the second guard behind her pulls out a phone and taps the screen. Ten seconds later, a third bulky Russian enters the bar dragging a badly beaten Harry with him.

I glance at Cian who subtly lifts one brow. Cian had given Harry a good once-over, but it wasn’t as bad as this.

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