“Cormac?” Saoirse’s hand lands gently on my shoulder, drawing me out from my slumber at Evelyn’s bedside.
I lift my head, fighting back a yawn and immediately seek out Evelyn’s unconscious face. She’s been unconscious for the past couple of days ever since surgery to save her life, and the wait for her to open her eyes is long and painful. Many think I should be elsewhere rather than keeping vigil at the bedside of a woman I barely know, but nothing can drag me away. I have enough people that I can give orders from here and not have to worry.
After checking that Evelyn is still asleep and that nothing on the surrounding machines is cause for alarm, I glance up at Saoirse. She gives me a tight smile, then tilts her head indicating we need to talk and this isn’t the best place for it. Easing myself out of the hard plastic chair, I follow Saoirse out of the room but keep the door ajar with my foot so I can maintain an eye line with Evelyn.
“What is it?”
“We lost McCullen’s.”
“The restaurant?”
“Aye. Burned to the ground.”
“Russian?”
Saoirse nods. “Likely retaliation for that nightclub we raided last night.”
Sliding my tongue over my upper teeth, I nod slowly. “Did we lose anyone?”
“Nah. Purely structural.”
“Good.” Evelyn’s stabbing ignited a bloodbath in the streets, though openly, I deny that it has anything to do with her. The fact that she was attacked when we were meeting with that loan shark is the confirmation I need that she had been marked as a way into the hotel. Whether she was an initial target or a backup, it doesn’t really matter. There’s too much Russian blood involved in that motel for Brenden’s death to be unrelated and I needed to lash out. War is brewing, and I’ll burn down the entire city for Brenden if I have to.
And Evelyn.
But I can’t say that part out loud.
“Cormac,” Saoirse warns gently. “You know where this path will take us.”
“Hmm?”
“You’re starting a war before we’ve even spoken to the Godmother.”
My eyes narrow. “What do you expect me to do? Sit around on my fucking arse while the Russians run free after what they did? I won’t allow it. Not for a second. She knows where I am if she wants to fucking talk about it.”
“I know,” Saoirse says. “Believe me, I’m with you on this. Even since Brenden—” Her voice tightens and she glances away. “I just want you to be sure. The last thing we need is a war with the wrong people.”
“Okay, tell me how you see it.”
Saoirse puffs out her cheeks, then places her hands on her narrow hips. “Alright, I see that the woman you have feelings for got stabbed on your watch and now you’re tearing through the Russians like Cian tears through Scotch eggs at Christmas.”
“It’s not about her.”
“Isn’t it?” Saoirse’s head tilts. “You really think a Russian loan shark is behind Brenden’s death?”
“No.”
Her eyes widen slightly. “What?”
“I don’t think he had anything to do with it directly, but we know how the Russians work. We know that Brenden frequented that hotel in secret for some reason. We know Evelyn worked there and we know that those assholes always get some poor schmuck to either do their dirty work or to get them in where they need to be. Hell, it’s what we would do if we needed eyes in a place we couldn’t show ourselves.”
Saoirse nods along slowly. “So you think they stabbed her to shut her up?”
“Why else?” I cast an eye back to Evelyn. “Either she saw something or she knows something they don’t want her telling anyone.”
“But what? I thought she told you everything.”
“She did, and I believe her,” I reply. “Which means whatever she knows, she doesn’t know that she knows it. Or she’s told me and I don’t know how important it is yet. Either way, if the Russians want her dead, then that’s good enough for me.”
Saoirse sighs deeply, then lifts her hand and delicately rubs at her dark lined eyes. “Okay. I understand. I’m not questioning you, I’m just making sure I understand.”
“I know.”
“I feel like we can’t even get a minute to breathe, y’know?” When she lowers her hand, her eyes betray the deep sadness inside her and I can’t resist the urge to reach out and draw her into my arms.
“As soon as Brenden’s killer is in the ground, we’ll get that minute.”
The hug is brief. Any longer, and I risk losing control of the lid, keeping my own grief buried and secure in the dark recesses of my mind. I can’t lead if I’m unable to focus.
Saoirse says her goodbyes and leaves. Heading back into Evelyn’s room, I close the door softly just as a dry voice reaches my ears.
“Cormac?”
My heart jumps. I’m by her bedside in an instant and it takes all my restraint not to grasp her hand. “Evelyn.”
Her eyes flutter slowly as she wakes up, then she squints at me and presses her lips together. “What… What happened? Where am I?”
“You’re in Queens Memorial Hospital.” Hovering over her, I ache to touch her. Seeing her eyes open and alert brings me more joy than anything has in weeks. Each day she remained dead to the world, I feared another death on my shoulders and that whatever information she had in her would be lost. Fate, thankfully, has other plans.
“Hospital?” Evelyn repeats croakily, then she quickly dissolves into a flutter of dry coughing.
Using the jug of water by her bedside, I pour her a cup then guide a small straw past her parched lips. She drinks greedily, then sinks back into the pillows with a gasp. “What happened?”
“You were stabbed.” Straight to the point seems like the best route. “Whoever bumped into you in the alley stabbed you with a thin, curved blade just under your ribs. That kind of blade is designed to kill. It was serrated. It tore into you and your lungs, which is why you went down so fast. You’ve had surgery to repair the tear.”
“Some… Someone tried to kill me?”
It isn’t until she whispers those words that it hits me—assassination attempts and brutality such as this are common in my world, but there’s a look of horror and fear on her face. This isn’t an everyday occurrence for her and my tactless way of delivering the news clearly wasn’t the best.
“I… I’m sorry, Evelyn. It… Yes, someone did, but I promise you they will not get away with it. And I’m sorry. I should have protected you better.”
Evelyn briefly closes her eyes, curling her fingers against the bedsheets. When she opens them, they’re slightly shining with unshed tears, and she shakes her head. “It’s not your job to protect me.”
“It is,” I reply immediately. “You’re my responsibility and you’re under my care. I didn’t plan all the angles and I’m sorry, Evelyn. I promised you this would all be over once I got my hands on Harry, and instead, you got hurt. I’m sorry, but I swear to you this will never happen again.”
It’s unclear if it’s my words or the painkillers she’s on, but Evelyn gives me a lopsided smile and shakes her head again. “We can’t play the blame game. Harry was my problem before I met you and I didn’t stay close to Hank either.”
“Don’t.” Without thinking, I reach for her hand. “This isn’t an argument you will win. But I promise you that you will be taken care of. Hospital bills and everything.”
Her eyes dart down to our hands and a sudden flush of heat warms between my palm and her knuckles, but I don’t draw back. I won’t unless she does first.
“You called me Evie.”
“What?”
“I heard you. In the alley. You called me Evie.”
Thinking back, I hadn’t realized that had slipped from me. Nodding, my mouth twists slightly. “Did I? Must have been a slip of the tongue.”
“Mmhmm,” Evelyn murmurs. “I get stabbed and you give me a nickname.”
“Sorry.”
“No, s’okay.” Evelyn smiles again. “I like it.”
Evie.
The doctor arrives not long after to check Evelyn over, remove her catheter, and give her another round of painkillers. I give her some privacy through all of that and return an hour later with some food. She appears grateful for something to eat and much more awake than before, which is nice. She asks about Harry, and I quickly fill her in on how he’s currently under lock and key at one of my facilities until we get some real answers out of him. She seems unfazed and only concerned as to whether he will still be an issue for her. Given the actions both I and the Russians have taken these past few days, I don’t see her debt being much of an issue, but the money is there and ready, just in case. Then we sit in an amicable silence listening to music from her phone that drowns out the beep of machines around us.
Suddenly, her brow dips sharply and her face contorts. I’m on my feet immediately, ready to run for a doctor at the first sign of pain. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Evelyn meets my gaze. “I really gotta pee.”
“Oh.” I snort softly with amusement. “Let me help you.”
Evelyn’s cheeks flare crimson immediately. “What?”
I stand over her. “I can carry you.”
“I can walk.”
“Fine, I’ll help you walk.”
“I don’t need your help to pee,” Evelyn says, unable to meet my gaze.
Rather than argue, I step back from her bed and watch as she slowly pushes back the blankets and slides her legs from the bed. As I expect, when she tries to stand, she lacks the strength and the balance to do so and immediately sinks back down onto the bed.
“Okay,” she mutters. “Can you help me?”
“Here I was thinking you would remain too stubborn to ask me.”
“If I didn’t need to pee so badly, I probably would,” Evelyn murmurs.
I scoop her into my arms with ease, mindful of the tubes attached to the drip stand, and carry her into the attached bathroom where I set her down near the toilet and hold her hand until she gets a grip on the porcelain. Once I’m certain she won’t fall, I turn away and plan to leave to give her privacy, but within a second, the sound of her relieving herself fills the air.
“Sorry,” Evelyn groans. “I’m too loopy to be embarrassed, but if you tell anyone about this then I’ll… do something really scary, okay?”
For the first time in as long as I can remember, I laugh. I don’t know if it’s her attitude, the tone of her voice, or the amusing pink hue on her cheeks. Honestly it might be all of those things. She draws a deep laugh from me and then her hand curls into the back of my shirt and grips on.
“That’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh,” she murmurs, and it’s my turn for heat to warm my cheeks. I can’t think of anything to say so I let it slide for now.
“I won’t tell a soul,” I promise, keeping my back to her to maintain some air of privacy.
“Good, because you have a knack for putting me in danger and then saving me, so don’t think I haven’t learned a few things.”
Ordinarily, such a comment wouldn’t bother me so much given how dangerous this life is for myself and the people around me, but Evelyn is the last person I want to get hurt. Whether it’s the asshole from the motel, the cops, or Harry, I don’t want to bring harm back to her doorstep.
Which is why hunting down the bastard who stabbed her is my second top priority.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “If I could stay away from you, then maybe you would be safer, but for some reason…”
The toilet flushes, and I turn back around to help Evelyn get up.
“I just can’t.”
“It’s because of my magnetic personality,” Evelyn jokes as I guide her to the sink. “I’m a fucking charm to be around. I get it.”
“You think I’m joking?”
Our eyes meet in the mirror as I lather soap onto my hands, then tenderly clasp her own cold hands and wash them in between my own. She nods, and the pink flush on her cheeks darkens.
“I’m not joking,” I say firmly. “Hardly what you want to hear, though, I imagine, given everything that’s happened.”
Evelyn’s eyes lock onto me. “You can’t say things like that when I’m drugged up,” she says softly. “You’ll give me the wrong idea.”
“Or the right one.”
Soap rinsed, I carry Evelyn back to the bed and tuck her in as gently as I can. She gingerly adjusts herself under the sheets, mindful of the bandages around her torso, and then she settles down to rest. Which lasts all of five minutes before she’s tugging at the covers and trying to bury herself beneath the sheets.
“Do you need anything?” I ask, fighting the wave of worry that fluctuates every time she moves. I don’t want her ripping her stitches, but her restlessness is clearly worrying.
“I’m cold,” Evelyn says, suddenly sitting up. “Can you cuddle me?”
The request makes my heart unexpectedly skip a beat. Helping her to the bathroom is one thing. That’s a necessity. But hearing her ask for me to be close to her is another thing entirely, especially when I’m fully expecting her to want nothing to do with me as soon as those painkillers wear off.
“Are you sure?”
Evelyn nods and lightly bites her lower lip. “I can’t curl up for warmth because of this.” She presses one hand to her chest. “So can you help me?”
I don’t need to be asked twice. Shifting out of my seat, I ease onto the bed and take up most of the room considering my bulk, but Evelyn doesn’t appear to care. She immediately latches onto my chest and when I tuck my arm around her shoulders, she cuddles into me with the softest, most contented sound I have ever heard in my life.
Having her against me sends my thoughts running. There’s a mix of anger and guilt at myself for letting her get hurt and not protecting her better when I was the one who put her in danger. Then there’s a flurry of anxiety and a strange hyper-awareness of my body and where I’m touching her. I can feel her entire body against my own and every little shiver that runs through her sends a jolt of excitement through me.
I can’t even try to explain away my feelings anymore, and it doesn’t matter if they will never be reciprocated. I like her. A lot.
And no one will ever hurt her again.
“What does this mean?” Evelyn’s cool fingertips suddenly brush against my neck, right over a black tattoo.
“It’s a tattoo.”
Her fingers become claws and she prods my shoulder. “Asshole. What does it mean?”
The tattoo is three interlocking triangles connected in a way that creates a single triangle with each outer edge. Her touch is gentle, yet focusing on that tattoo drags my heart into my gut.
“It’s… each triangle is one of my siblings. There’s one for Saoirse, one for Cian, and one for… Brenden. And then together, they make up my family.”
“Oh.” Her voice is soft. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It just means more now than it did when I got it done. It’s all locked together because, as a unit, we’re unshakeable. Or we were.” I breathe deeply, staring up at the white tiles above.
“It’s beautiful. Just like the flowers on your arm.”
“Ah, now those are because of my home. Ireland and my actual home.”
“Your apartment?”
“Nah, my real home.” I tilt my head down to see Evelyn’s eyelids drooping. “I’ll show you sometime. After you sleep.”
“Not tired,” Evelyn replies stubbornly.
Within two minutes, she’s fast asleep in the crook of my arm and the machines around me beep to the rhythm of her peaceful rest. I return my gaze to the ceiling and allow my mind to run.
Maybe taking Evelyn home would be a good idea.
It’s unclear how long we stay like this, but as the world darkens outside the window, the door soon opens and Saoirse walks in. She doesn’t bat an eye to see Evelyn and me cuddled together. Approaching the bed, she hands me a letter.
An invitation.
The Russian Godmother is requesting a meeting on neutral ground.
