I miss her.
She was only here for a few short days and we didn’t exactly get to spend any kind of real time together, but her sudden absence in my apartment feels like something has been ripped away from me. As the days pass, I tell myself that it’s just the lingering loss of my brother trying to settle into someone who’s still alive.
I don’t have time for romance. There’s too much I have to do to get things in order with my Family and the world Brenden left me, and yet, through it all, I just can’t get Evelyn out of my mind.
It’s late one evening when Saoirse appears with coffee in hand. She sets it down on my desk in front of me, right on top of the latest contract I’m mulling over. Sighing, I pluck the paper cup off the desk and grumble slightly as a slightly damp ring is left behind.
“You know, putting coffee on my important shit isn’t going to put me in a good mood if you have something to ask me,” I say, setting the coffee aside.
“Cian says you’re not sleeping,” Saoirse replies, lounging in the leather seat on the other side of the desk. “So drink the coffee and shut up.”
“I don’t need coffee.”
“Do too.”
“Saoirse.”
“Cormac.” She narrows her dark-lined eyes at me, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “You think you’re any use to any of us if you end up burnt out? Or worse, dead because you fell asleep at the wheel?”
“Hank drives.”
“I mean figuratively.” She tosses her head back and forth, shaking her auburn hair from her shoulders. “Killing yourself helps no one.”
“Just as well that isn’t what I’m doing.” I don’t look up at her. Instead, I try to find the sentence I was reading before she interrupted. “If that’s all?”
“I’m worried about you.” Her voice is softer. “Everything has gone to shit. Brenden is dead. Ma can’t even handle a phone call without breaking down. The Italians are pressuring for answers and the Russians have their own bloodbath in the streets. Now, more than ever, we need to put on a strong front.”
“You think I don’t know what?” I snap, finally lifting my head. “I know exactly how restless the smaller families are. How no one sees a leader when they look at me. They all followed Brenden and I was happy being the underboss and getting my hands dirty. Now I have every single expectation on my shoulders to hold this family together, to hold the entire strength of the Irish together on top of making sure all of Brenden’s hard work doesn’t go to waste.”
Saoirse, unfazed by my snapping, rolls her eyes. “So sleeping should be one of your priorities but instead, it’s your second day in a row where you’re just in here poring over paper.”
“I can’t sleep,” I admit stiffly. “Feels… wrong.”
“Why?” She leans forward, resting her forearms on her knees.
I stumble through a handful of thoughts, searching for the right words to explain this pit inside me. This grief that’s swelling like a balloon with each passing hour that Brenden’s killer walks free and the aching desire to see Evelyn again. As if her presence can make that balloon deflate even an inch. But no words come. I only stare at Saoirse until she finally looks away.
“Do you see him?” she asks softly, pressing her fingertips together. “I do. Every time I close my eyes, all I see are the crime scene photos. He was the best of us and he died like some dog in some disgusting motel, and we don’t even know why.”
My heart drops, and the responsibility of the Mob melts away. For a moment, we are just grieving siblings.
“I see him all the time,” I reply, fighting to keep my voice level. “He’s everywhere. His aftershave stains everything because he slept here more than in his own place. His plans are everywhere, his laughter is in the wind, his shadow is in the eyes of everyone who looks at me with expectation. Every time that door creaks…” I nod toward the office door. “I expect him to walk through. So… so no, I can’t sleep. Not while his body is still cold in that morgue and his murderer still roams the city.”
When Saoirse lifts her head, her eyes sparkle with unshed tears. “Can you promise me you’ll find who did it?”
“Yes,” I say firmly. “I won’t rest until I do.”
“You should rest,” she says, sniffling as she composes herself. “Or should I go find you another woman to entertain yourself with?”
Just like that, the emotional moment passes and she’s back to her regular self with that teasing curl of her upper lip.
“You think fucking will help me sleep?”
She shrugs. “I know what you did with that woman in the car.” She laughs softly. “And Cian said you passed out not long after she left, so sure. Should I call her?”
Something about my expression must betray my desire for such a thing because suddenly, Saoirse’s eyes narrow playfully. “You do, don’t you? You want to call her.”
“I don’t want to talk about this.”
“I do!” She rises from her seat and leans over the desk. “Don’t tell me you developed a crush on the witness.”
“I am thirty-two years old. I don’t crush.”
“Bullshit.” Saoirse laughs. “You like her.”
“I don’t.”
“Liar. It’s all over your face. Y’know, I suspected because I couldn’t remember the last time you showed interest in anything outside of work and then suddenly, you’re fucking her in the back of your car. I told Cian it was just stress relief. Fuck. I could’ve made fifty bucks off him.” She straightens up. “You should call her.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because in case you forgot, she wanted to leave?”
“And?” Saoirse clicks her tongue. “She had no problems spreading her legs for you. Maybe she just wanted the choice considering you did kidnap her.”
“With good reason.”
“I’m not questioning that.” She laughs. “Trust me, if snatching some hunk off the street is how I need to secure a man, then I’ll do it. But she left and didn’t go straight to the cops, right?”
“Right.”
“So maybe you should call her. Get your dick wet and sleep. Maybe it’s the grief talking and latching onto her because she’s outside of this mess, but if it will get you to rest, I don’t really care.”
“Is that any way to talk to your Captain?”
“I’m talking to my brother,” Saoirse corrects. “Or drink my shitty coffee. Either way, do something before you drop dead at your desk.”
While her tone remains light, I catch the flash of deeper worry in her eyes as she turns away. I shouldn’t give her cause to worry. I’ve been watching my siblings closely for any sign of them slipping, and it didn’t fully occur to me that they would be doing the same. As Saoirse leaves, I make sure she sees me picking up the coffee.
I’ll sleep later.
Unfortunately, returning to work proves impossible. My sister effectively knocked me out of my focus and now that my mind is wandering, all I can think about is Evelyn once more.
Saoirse was right about one thing. She would be perfect for relieving my stress. Unfortunately, she left. That was her choice, and I can’t bring myself to invade her space more than I already have—not unless I want to risk misreading signals and send her right into the arms of that cop.
Discarding the contract, I sip Saoirse’s terribly strong coffee and turn to my computer. In a few clicks, a map pops up with a glowing red dot showing Evelyn in her apartment. During her time here, I bugged her phone and every call, text, and voicemail that she’s received in the past few days is logged on my computer.
I hit Play on the recorded conversation with her mother just to hear her voice and scan through her most recent texts. They’re mostly related to job applications given her recent termination from the motel, with the others all being about food delivery. She hasn’t left her apartment since she was dropped back there other than to collect takeout on the days she deems the cost of delivery to be too high. When I first heard her asking her mother for rent, I was struck with a powerful urge to pay that for her, but that definitely would have raised suspicions. I didn’t want her to know I was watching her.
I just want to check in. Keep her safe.
That’s also why I have one of my men, Dale, tailing her. Not that she ever goes anywhere so his job has mostly been sitting in his car for three days watching her apartment. I’m almost jealous he’s so close and I’m not.
As I flick through her texts, I return to the list of old numbers that she hasn’t contacted in more than six months. There was a period of time when she called the bank a lot, and even a lawyer, but there’s no record of the calls for me to listen to. Other than her mother, her social circle is almost nonexistent. Even her social media is dead, other than a few likes here and there. She’s as different from my life as one could get.
As I listen to her soft voice—and her mother’s less-than-pleasant scrape of tone—my phone rings, and I patch Cian through at the touch of a button. “Hey, little brother.”
“Saoirse still with you?”
“No, she left.”
“Figures. I wanted to catch you both so I didn’t have to say this twice.”
“Out with it.”
Cian takes a breath. “Alright. So this is mostly unconfirmed but I’ve had my ear to the ground. You know the Russians are a mess right now.”
“Saoirse mentioned it, yeah.”
“Since the death of the Pakhan, his daughter’s been fighting like hell to keep her position over every other Russian bastard that thinks they can do it better. Anyway, there’s rumors in a few smaller families that one of the middle families is claiming credit for Brenden.”
“What?” Evelyn’s voice fades from focus. “Who?”
“No name yet. Like I said, it’s rumblings.”
“If I have to carve through every fucking Ruskie to get to the truth, I will,” I snap, shifting in my seat as heat lances down my spine.
“No,” Cian snaps. “No reckless actions, you hear me? Like I said, it’s a rumor. I don’t know if it’s an attempt to destabilize Anastasia’s rule or if someone is just trying to direct us to the Russians and take out an already messy target.”
Cian has a point. A rumor like this is dangerous to act on without proof. “Alright,” I mutter. “We need to do this properly. I need to find out exactly what’s going on. Can you get me a meeting with the Godmother?”
“Will do. And get some rest, will you?”
Rolling my eyes, I end the call, but before I can turn back to my computer, Dale’s name pops up on my screen. I answer immediately.
“You need relief?” I ask, expecting Dale to be in need of a bathroom break or sleep.
“Nah, not until sunrise,” Dale replies. “But we have an issue.”
“Which is?”
“Evelyn had a visitor. A man. He arrived maybe an hour ago and I’ve been running his face through the Cops’ database as well as our own to see if I can find out who the guy is.”
A man? Does Evelyn have a man? Acidic jealousy fizzes at the base of my throat. “And?” I bark.
“I found him.”
“And?”
“Boss, he’s Russian.”
