Page 78 of The Irish Redemption

“Evel—Evelyn Morris!”

“And the crash?”

“She vanished and I told him she had protection, so the cost was going up. He agreed, so I tracked down her mother and camped the place. Fucked with the electrics and shit to try and draw her out. And when she did, I tried to run her off the road. Simple accident!”

I tighten my grip once more, and the man squeaks like air escaping a balloon. “Who hired you?”

“No… names!”

Fuck.

Releasing his shoulder, I fish out my phone and quickly scroll until I find a picture of the Italian Don, Matteo Barati. “This guy?”

The assassin shakes his head.

Figures. It wouldn’t be Matteo’s style to hire an out-of-family assassin. But if he didn’t want to be caught, maybe it’s precisely the thing he would do. “This guy?” I flash him a photo of Rocky, Matteo’s son.

“No!”

“You'd better not be lying to me!”

“I’m not! I swear!”

The last picture I show him is the sketch of Noah.

“That’s him! That’s the guy! I don’t know his name, though, I swear. I swear—” I render him unconscious with a final punch, then straightenup with a wince. Pulling out my gun, a clean shot to the skull ends the assassin’s life.

The world tips slightly and my legs feel weak as I pick my way through the destroyed apartment and head for the door.

Noah.

The fucker is at the root of everything.

He hired an assassin to kill Evelyn but failed each time because of me. And now he has her. Once outside, the setting sun burns my eyes. I dial Cian’s number.

There’s nowhere Noah can hide. The moment he snatched Evelyn is the moment he signed his slow, painful death warrant.

“Where the fuck are you?” Cian screams in my ear. “Do you have any fucking idea how scared I was to find your room empty?”

“Cian.” I calmly walk down the street, ignoring the pull of hot pain across my abdomen. “Call Matteo. Tell him I know Italian money paid for an assassin who nearly killed me.”

“You fucking… fine,” Cian groans. “Fine. I’ll tell him. Then what?”

“Then we find Evie, that’s what.”

This city is hiding my woman. No one rests until she’s back by my side.

31

EVELYN

“Drink.”

Noah shoves the bottle into my face and glares at me. I’d resist if I weren’t so damn thirsty. Reluctantly, I part my lips but as I tip my head up to accept the water flow, he tilts the bottle too far. It spills out too fast and washes over my face, flooding my mouth to the point that I have to gulp desperately to get any of it before it all pours away. The bottle empties in a handful of seconds and then he tosses it aside. The plastic bounces on the metal floor and the sound echoes around me. Then he walks away, but not far.

I’m not sure where I am, but since we arrived here he’s kept me bound to a rusty metal chair at the bottom of some kind of tank. In my hours alone here, I tried to work out what this was due to the pipes running along the walls and the holes above me that look rusted beyond belief. Maybe water was held in here, or some chemical, judging by how the air carries no scent but stings each time I breathe in.

“Asshole,” I croak as he strides away.

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