“Answer me!” Cormac slams his hands down on the table, causing the chain connecting the woman’s handcuffs to the table to jump at the force. She flinches but glares at Cormac through tear-soaked eyelashes
“No,” she replies through gritted teeth. “I’m not scared of you.”
“You should be, Holly,” Cormac mutters. “I’m the only thing standing between you and an entire army of men wanting revenge on the one responsible for killing Brenden.”
“You think I’m the one that killed him?” Holly scoffs sharply, her voice thick from the tears she’s cried since she was snatched. “You’re so fucking stupid.”
I nearly step forward, but Cian’s hand lands on my elbow, holding me back. It’s tough to watch. Cormac’s angry and it oozes from him like some kind of smoke, somehow filling the room we’re all standing in. Holly’s upset, and my heart goes out to her. I’ve faced an angry Cormac, and it’s not easy, although Holly is handling it a lot better than I am. That piques my interest.
How many men like this has she faced in her line of work that makes Cormac look like just another bulldozer? Part of me can barely stomach to watch, but I feel like I need to. Holly holds answers that could set us all free—release Cormac from his grief, release his siblings from their anger, and me from this constant fear about who is coming for me next. I want to stop seeing a corpse each time I close my eyes.
“Do you need me to say it in a different fucking language?” Holly snaps, drawing me from my distracted thoughts. “I have nothing to say to you, and your big ogre act isn’t doing anything, so if you’re just going to kill me, then get it over with! Maybe I’ll have a nice conversation with Brenden when I get to the other side. How the fuck are you two even related?”
“You fucking bitch—”
“What are you gonna do?” Holly taunts. “Hit me?”
Cian suddenly darts forward, reading something I miss about Cormac’s stance. Within a second, he’s next to his brother and dragging him away from the table.
“Walk it off,” Cian orders in a low voice. “Take a fucking breath, Cormac.” He drags him out of the main room and into the warehouse office behind us.
I glimpse Cormac’s face, which is twisted with rage and pain. Such a look turns my blood to ice, and I understand it. He’s so close to discovering the truth, but Holly taunts him instead of helping him. And I can’t blame her, given the situation. Given her line of work, it’s no surprise she gets defensive when faced with aggression, even aggression as understandable as Cormac’s.
Holly slumps back in her seat and sniffles, tilting her head back to let stray tears leak down her face. Her fingers flex in their cuffs, tapping against one another.
Suddenly, I’m walking forward before I can stop myself. When I reach her, I pick up the bottle of water from the table and unscrew it, then offer it to her. She glares at me.
“What are you, the good cop?”
“Not exactly,” I reply. “You’ve been crying since you got here and I know how much that fucks with your head. So have a drink. You want a smoke?”
Holly’s fingers suddenly stop tapping. “You got one?”
I glance over my shoulder to the nearest guard, who approaches me with an uncertain look. He digs out a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and hands them to me, along with a lighter. I flash Holly the brand. “Good enough?”
“Honey, right now I’d take a stick if you had it. Could you do the honors?” She lifts her hands in their restraints. “Little tied up.”
“Can we take the cuffs off?” I ask the same guard, who shakes his head. “Why not? You really think she can take all of you on and escape?”
A sheepish look washes over the guard’s face, and he looks at one of his companions, who shrugs. Cormac and Cian are still in the other room, so I still have time.
“Exactly,” I sigh, removing a cigarette from the pack. “So take them off.”
The guard finally complies, and Holly hisses at him, sucking on her teeth while massaging her wrists. I hand her the cigarette, and she sets it between her lips, then gazes up at me from beneath her clumped lashes while I light it for her.
“You’re not one of them,” she says, taking a slow drag. Her eyes close briefly in bliss. “Are you?”
“Not exactly,” I reply, taking the seat across from her. “Not so long ago, I was on your side of the table.”
“Same accusation?”
“Not exactly. I found Brenden’s body, so they did suspect me for a while.”
A strange look moves over Holly’s face, and she tries to hide it by drinking the water. It’s the same look Clodagh had on her face when looking at the empty chairs at her table.
Pain.
“That must have sucked,” Holly says, taking another long drag. “I’ve seen some fucked up shit, but never a dead body.”
“It’s left a mark,” I murmur. “I saw a lot of shit working there, but that’s top of the list.”
“I can imagine.”
“Cormac isn’t going to hurt you.”
“Let me guess, you won’t let him?” Her eyes flash.
“I won’t. But also, he won’t. He’s not like that.”
“And how do you know?”
I shrug. “I just do.” It’s a gamble because, in truth, I don’t fully know what Cormac is capable of. I’ve seen him pulverize men, but I don’t think he’d do the same to a woman. In fact, I know he wouldn’t. A man raised by Clodagh isn’t that stupid.
“You have a lot of faith in a man who accused you of murder.”
“He saved my life,” I reply. “So I can forgive him for that.”
She looks me over, dragging in slow puffs, then she flicks the cigarette off to the side. “I remember seeing you around the motel. Was the boss really as sleazy as he looked?”
I nod with a snort. “Honestly, I think he wanted me to offer sex with each free clean. Creepy fucker.”
“I got that vibe.” She smokes slowly. “He adds a different kind of tax every fucking time I’m there, but it’s the closest place to my route that doesn’t ask questions.” Holly shakes her head and rubs at her nose. “What a mess.”
For a moment, her walls shift and I see her, really see her. The glimpse of upset that leaked through earlier is suddenly more prominent and I recognize a deeper sadness in her eyes. A sadness that also lingers in Cormac’s eyes.
“I know you didn’t kill Brenden,” I say.
Holly freezes. “Maybe I did.”
“No.” I speak softly. “You didn’t. You cared about him.”
Footsteps shuffle behind me and Holly glances away, her eyes hard at presumably Cormac behind me, but I keep my attention on her.
“Holly.” I draw her back to me. “He was your friend, wasn’t he? You two were seen together a few times, and I know in your line of work, that could mean anything, but you’re sad. I can see that. You’re really sad that Brenden is gone.”
Holly takes a much longer drag on her cigarette, and the amber flares in her eyes. Then she blows out the smoke and sighs deeply. “Yeah,” she says shortly. “He was a good guy.”
There’s more to it, but I force myself to approach it carefully. “He was, from what I’ve heard. He had a good heart. Worked to make sure everyone was taken care of. Cormac’s trying to do the same thing, but it’s hard knowing the killer is out there. We share a common goal there, I think.”
Holly’s eyes flick behind me once more, and she straightens slightly in her chair. “He didn’t deserve to go out like that,” she says finally. “Brenden was—” She chokes up and tries to cover it with a cough. “He was different. He was good.”
“So maybe you can point us in the right direction?” I tilt my head. “You’re not the only one we want to talk to. There’s someone else who was seen with both you and Brenden, but we don’t know who he is. If you could help us, maybe it will help put us on the right track, y’know?”
“I see a lot of people,” Holly mutters, then she pauses. “You think one of my clients killed Brenden?”
“Maybe. Or they know who did. All we know is that he and Brenden had some disagreements and we want to talk to him about it.”
Holly’s gaze drops away, and she smokes silently until the cigarette is nothing but a stub. As she flicks it away, I offer her another, and it takes all my strength to keep my hands from trembling. I feel like I’m close, but I’m also winging the shit out of this.
“You got a picture?” Holly asks eventually.
I nod and as I turn, Cian slides the second drawing onto the table.
“Even if you don’t know his name,” I say as Holly takes the picture. “If you happen to know what Russian family he belongs to, that would be amazing.”
Holly’s face changes in an instant and anger pulls her brows tight. “This guy?” she snorts. “He’s not fucking Russian. This prick’s Italian.”
