Page 87 of The Irish Redemption

“I love you,” I say, and then darkness descends like a warm blanket.

“He’s really dead?”

Several hours later, I perch on the edge of a hospital bed with a mug of cocoa clasped in my hands. Despite the layers of dry clothing, blankets, and heaters, there’s still a chill in my bones that I can’t shake. Cormac sits on the chair in front of me, his hands slowly rubbing my legs as he nods.

“He’s dead.” He glances at the stranger in the corner with olive skin and dark, black hair. “Rocky killed him.”

“Thank you,” I say to Rocky.

He tips his head as if removing an invisible hat and places one hand over his heart. “The least I could do.”

“Did you get a chance to talk to him?” My attention slides back to Cormac. “About anything?”

“No.” Cormac abruptly shakes his head. “Fucker had only one intention.”

“I’m so sorry,” I gasp, reaching for one of Cormac’s hands. “That’s my fault. I was taunting him because he was talking about Holly and I thought if I tricked him to go and find you, you’d be able to find me.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Cormac’s brows knit together. “You did the right thing, sweetheart. You were amazing.”

I don’t feel amazing because the weight of the truth suddenly rests onmy shoulders. I don’t want to hurt Cormac, but I know what I’m about to share will only cause him pain.

“He… Noah, he told me about Brenden.”

Cormac’s hands pause on my legs and he looks up at me with dark eyes. “Did he tell you why?”

I nod, hiding my trembling lower lip behind a sip of the hot drink. Rocky shifts off the wall, crossing his arms tight across his chest so his biceps bulge. He looks like he’s preparing himself for Cormac lashing out. They both likely still suspect this was some big ploy for power.

Somehow, it’s so much sadder knowing it’s not.

“He did kill Brenden,” I say as softly as I can, stroking Cormac’s knuckles. “But not for any kind of power play or anything like that. He said that years ago, he’d worked on a deal to bring Cartel weapons into the family and he was going to make his boss really proud. But before he could, the Irish swept in with their deal and created that treaty.”

Rocky frowns deeply. “The Mexican Cartel? We would never make such a deal.”

I can only shrug. “That’s what he said. He said he had some plan but that the Cartel took his sister. Or he sold her. He wasn’t exactly clear.”

A flash of recognition washes over Rocky’s face. “Oh, my God. I remember that. At least, I remember his sister. He came to us begging for help, claiming that someone had kidnapped his sister. He pointed fingers at the Irish and the Russians, but we later found out she’d died overseas and he went quiet. If he sold her to the Cartel…” Rocky grimaces and his face pales a few shades. “Fucker.”

“He was mad about that and blamed the Irish. And then he fell in love with Holly, but she dumped him, and when he saw her with Brenden, he became convinced that Brenden was out to screw him over. Thatthe deal was to ruin him and then stealing his girl was another move against him.”

“Fucker was delusional,” Rocky mutters. “Absolutely psychotic.”

“They argued about it. He said Brenden kept brushing him off as unimportant, so he got him to meet him for one final showdown and then…” I don’t need to fill in the gaps. We all know what happened next. Given Cormac’s description of the fight with Noah, it’s not difficult to envision how that weasel of a man was able to tackle Brenden and slit his throat.

The thought makes my blood run cold, and a shiver moves through my body, eased by Cormac’s grip tightening on my leg. He hasn’t spoken, merely staring past me into the distance as he listens.

Silence falls and I study his face, catching the pain in his eyes and the subtle downturn of his lips.

“So,” Cormac says eventually, his voice gravelly from unshed emotion. “He murdered Brenden, not because he wanted more power for his family, not because he was under orders from the Don, and not because he was planning some insane move. He killed him because—” Cormac cuts himself off.

His hand trembles beneath mine, so I tighten my grasp to try and soothe him.

“Somehow, this is worse,” Cormac mutters brokenly. “He didn’t die for a reason. Not a real reason. He was just…” His head falls forward, dipping between his shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” Rocky says, and he sounds like he genuinely means it.

“I nearly started a war, nearly burned that treaty to the ground,” Cormac croaks. “And it wasn’t even?—”

“Don’t.” Rocky approaches and places a hand briefly on Cormac’s shoulder. “Your grievances are forgotten. Water under the bridge.Given the circumstances, I don’t hold anything against you. And I’ll make sure my father won’t either.”

---