Page 28 of The Irish Redemption

I tap the screen in Hank’s hands and quickly send the pictures off to my siblings. “Hank, can you dig into the motel ownership records, as far back as you can? I want to know who, if anyone, has a connection there.”

“On it.” With a slight dip of his head, Hank hurries away, leaving Evelyn and me alone. My uninjured hand slips back into my pocket, seeking out the lighter that gives me so much comfort.

It’s a small gift from my father. Each of us has one engraved with the family crest and name. When my father gifted these, they were small presents at Christmas, but somewhere along the line, they became important to each of us, even when they ran out of fuel.

The thought of Brenden’s sitting in some evidence bag somewhere makes my stomach churn. I close my eyes and force a deep, calming breath. The chair behind me creaks and when I open my eyes, Evelyn stands beside me with a soft, sad look across her features.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t find anything at the motel,” she says cautiously.

I shrug. “He left nothing to be found. Not your fault. Not your responsibility.” From the way Evelyn’s brows pinch together in the window reflection, I suspect my words came across harsher than I intended, so I turn toward her. “Look. It’s been a long couple of days and you need to take care of yourself. I’ll get Hank to whip you up something to eat—something real—and then you should get some rest.”

“Actually…” Evelyn’s lower lip curls into her mouth and I’m struck with the urge to scold her. If anyone should be biting on her lip, it should be me. “I want to go home.”

Home.

Right.

Of course.

That was the agreement. She does something for me and I let her go free. After all, she is still technically my captive.

“I did what you asked, I helped you as much as I can, but I have nothing else and you said you would let me go,” she continues, speaking quickly as if she fears retribution for even asking. Given what she’s witnessed, I can’t blame her.

“I want to go home. Please.”

She looks up at me with these gigantic eyes, and a different sort of ache wraps around my broken heart. I’m not sure what I expected, really. I kidnapped her, and even though I thought I felt something when we fucked, it was just sex with essentially a stranger.

She did as I asked, and I can’t fault her for that—just like I can’t fault her for wanting to get as far away from me and this mess as she can.

“Alright,” I say after a moment of silence. “If that’s what you want.”

I catch the flicker of confusion in her eyes. After all, how could she want anything else?

“I’ll call Hank and he will take you home.”

Evelyn smiles—and it’s the first time I’ve seen her do that. The corners of her eyes crinkle and her eyes light up with a warm glow as she reaches out and lightly clasps my wrist.

“Thank you.”

As gentle as her touch is, it doesn’t stop a bubble of disappointment rising just beneath my ribs.

12

EVELYN

Being home feels alien.

Cormac was true to his word and had Hank drop me home within the hour. He remained parked by the sidewalk until I’d let myself inside and closed the door, then he left and suddenly, I was all alone.

It’s exactly what I asked for, but as I stand in the middle of my cold kitchen with three-day-old dishes in the sink threatening to become a biohazard, I suddenly hate it. The air is cold and the silence is too silent. I hadn’t realized just how much I had enjoyed being around other people not related to my work for the past few days, even if it had been terrifying.

That has to be a trick of the mind, right? There’s no way I’m missing being kidnapped. It was the most insane, surreal experience of my life. And yet, finding the body remains the worst part. Not the kidnap, not the gun in my face or Cormac’s threat on my life, and definitely not the sex.

The sight of that body is going to haunt me for the rest of my life.

After lingering in the chill of my kitchen for a few long minutes, I retreat into the shower and dispose of the clothes Hank lent me. I briefly remember that they still have my work uniform, and my heart sinks. Gerald isn’t going to be happy when I ask for a replacement.

In the lukewarm heat of my low-pressure shower, my mind spins over the events of the last few days. The body, the kidnapping, lying to the police, planting bugs on that nice detective, and then fucking a member of the Irish Mob. It’s like someone else was living inside my body these past few days because never in a million years did I think I had the guts to do something like that. Maybe the threat on my life was enough to unlock this bold new criminal side of me.

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