Page 50 of The Irish Redemption

Harry coughs up blood and immediately gets a meaty fist to the face because of it. “I told you,” the new guard spits. “Don’t bleed on Hazel’s floor.”

Anastasia straightens up in her seat. “Listen to me, Cormac. I have a lot of respect for the Irish. The work your mother did was magnificent and the few times I met with Brenden, he was a gentleman. I was… saddened to hear of his passing. Yes, technically, Harry works for me. He’s a low-level loan shark who’s nothing more than a handful of numbers at the bottom of one of my columns. He works for a nothing family that works for another family that works for me. Do you understand? He’s nothing.”

Her voice is level and her words strong, but it does nothing to calm the heat simmering beneath my skin. I’m boiling alive on the inside as seeing Harry just reminds me of Evelyn dropping like a rock right in front of me.

“You expect me to believe you?” I bite out through clenched teeth.

“I’d say I don’t care what you believe, but I don’t have time for a war with you, so yes, I do expect that. Harry certainly doesn’t have the smarts to make a play against your family, and the people he works for don’t have the balls to talk back to me, never mind make a move against you. Isn’t that right, Harry?”

Harry nods quickly, clutching at his bloodied shirt, and he looks at me with fear in his eyes. “It’s true. I ain’t never had orders about any Irish, sir. Evelyn was a nobody. She was just someone who sought me out because she needed money, and I obliged ’cause that’s what I’m paid to do!”

“And the man who stabbed Evelyn?”

“I have no idea, I swear. I always work alone. I didn’t know she was messed up in any gang shit, I swear. I never would have put her on the books if I knew she was Irish!”

I don’t correct the assumption that Evelyn is Irish. Instead, I turn back to Anastasia. “You can say what you want, but I wouldn’t ever expect truth from the mouth of a Russian.”

“I’m not my father,” Anastasia snaps, and it’s the first time there’s a hint of something human on her impassive face. “I have enough trouble stabilizing the internal mess my father left behind without tackling a family as big as yours. Especially one with the Italians on their side. It would be suicide for me, don’t you see that? I’m trying to build something up, not crush what little I have my hands on.”

I glance at Saoirse who gives me a small nod, a signal for me to keep listening.

“I don’t expect you to be concerned with the inner turmoil of the Russians. We’re hardly allies. But you must believe me that the death of your Captain is not on my hands, nor on my orders. I don’t know if someone is trying to make me look bad or is counting on your taking me out in blind revenge, but Cormac. This was not me. I’m balancing a family on broken stilts right now. War? Conflict? I may as well swap my antidepressants for cyanide.”

As much as I hate to admit it, Anastasia talks sense. What little I know of the Russian hierarchy is enough to make me believe her words, even if her intentions remain clouded. Indeed, this course of action,with proof, would result in my annihilating her and everyone associated with her. Instead, she’s here talking to me.

The anger inside me stalls and flares in my chest, suffocating me for a few long seconds. It had nowhere to go, and I was so desperate for some kind of outlet, even at the risk of Hazel’s wrath. Instead, I’m forced to squash it down once more, so I bite my tongue and sigh.

“Fuck.”

“Fuck indeed,” Anastasia murmurs, then she lifts one hand. “Hazel, I’ll take that drink now.”

As Hazel appears with some bourbon for Anastasia, I accept the beer Saoirse offered me earlier and pop the cap quickly. Three gulps later, I have a better grasp on my rage.

“I think we can help one another,” Anastasia says. “I’m not here for a war, you understand? I am here because I can’t afford one and someone is working really fucking hard to make it look like I’m out for Irish blood. I don’t care who they are, but I want them dead. Even if it’s someone in my own ranks.”

I study her face, seeking out any hint of a lie, but she appears to be honest. And I’m growing inclined to believe her. Whoever is behind this has made it seem like Russian hands took my brother’s life. If I’m wrong here, then his killer walks free.

“Alright,” Saoirse says. “We have two people we’re looking for. One we know is a sex worker, but other than her name, Peach, we know nothing else. The other person is a mystery.”

Cian leans over Saoirse and hands Anastasia two photographs of the police sketches. Anastasia glances them over, then passes them to the guard she gave the paper to. “I don’t recognize them, but I will have someone dig into it.”

“That’s all I ask,” Saoirse replies.

We fall into a strained but amicable silence where drinks are shared and Anastasia’s guards eventually take a seat. Cian remains standing, despite Saoirse’s persuasion, and even Hazel swings by to make sure we’re not secretly at each other's throats. Through it all, my mind drifts to Evelyn and the man who stabbed her. If I take Anastasia at her word that the Russians really aren’t behind this, then who is the person who stabbed her? And how did they find her?

We drink until the early hours until one of Anastasia’s guards gets a call. They pass the phone to Anastasia, and she listens intently for a few long minutes, then she hangs up and sets the phone aside.

“Well?” I prompt.

“I know this looks bad,” she says tightly. “But Peach is one of ours. We’re in contact with her pimp and in the process of tracking her down.”

I’d let Harry slide as a coincidence, but Peach being on the Russian payroll as well makes Anastasia’s defense crumble around her. Every muscle inside tightens like the snap of a belt, and I slam one hand down on the table.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“The man isn’t known to us and will require some deeper research,” she says, meeting my gaze. “This doesn’t change what I said.”

“Yes,” I say, standing so abruptly that my chair clatters back. “It does. You better find that woman, Anastasia. And that man. Or I will stop at nothing until I have wiped you and all of your kind off the face of this fucking Earth.”

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