Nothing could have prepared me for the carnage in that bathroom. I knew the details of his death, to an extent, but seeing the blood stains in the bathroom and knowing my brother died there broke my heart. I couldn’t breathe and ended up passing the phone to Hank just to get the world around me to stop spinning.
I’d climbed out of the car and paced back and forth along the length of the vehicle, trying to get my thoughts in order. Of all the places to die, he had to choose this fucking shithole. And to die the way he did? The only thing that makes sense is that it was someone he knew, someone who was able to get close enough to him to slit his throat. My brother was one hell of a fighter, and I know deep down in my gut that it was either someone he knew or someone with a lot of backup.
None of that made me feel better, so by the time I got back in the car and Hank confirmed that Evelyn had found nothing, I was back to square one.
The call ends and Hank places his hand briefly on my arm. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
“Dude.”
“What?”
“Don’t bullshit me. You need a minute?”
I tightly shake my head. “I’m fine.”
“You look like you’re about to explode. Got the same look on your face that Brenden got that time the Russians snatched you off the street, you remember?”
“Aye.” I sigh deeply. “They were sore fucking losers.”
“Made the mistake of taking Brenden’s favorite sibling.” Hank snorts. “Now that was a bloodbath if ever I’ve seen one.”
“Why was he here, Hank?” I mutter, staring out through the dark windows to the peeling paint covering the shabby walls of this shit hole. “What on Earth would bring him to a place like this?”
“I don’t know,” Hank replies. “But I know it must have been important.”
I grumble in agreement as my phone rings, and an unexpected tiny part of me hopes to see Evelyn’s number. Instead, it’s Cian, so I answer immediately. “What is it?”
“The bugs are good,” Cian says. “We’ve listened in on a few calls from Detective Gogs but she hasn’t discussed anything concrete.”
“What about her computer?”
“Saoirse is working on that now. At a glance, it doesn’t look like she has any leads. She’s mostly been digging into us and you.”
“Me?”
“Aye. Maybe she suspects you got tired of being second in command and wanted a fast track to the top.” Cian snorts. “Either way, she’s got nothing but bullshit.”
“Alright. Keep a close eye.”
“Will do. Anything at the motel?” There’s such hope in Cian’s voice that I want to lie and tell him we found something just so I don’t break his heart further, but we have nothing.
“No,” I reply shortly. “Not a fucking thing.”
“Shit.” Cian hangs up.
My head throbs. Closing my eyes, I pinch the bridge of my nose and massage in small circles. “Cops are as clueless as we are. Which isn’t a fucking surprise, but what the fuck am I supposed to do now?”
“There’s something out there,” Hank says, trying to be as encouraging as possible. “I know it. We just have to find it.”
“Aye, well, it’s fucking impossible to see what it is. I want Brenden’s accounts. I want to know where he was and what he was doing every second this past month, understand? Every dollar spent, every mile driven, I want it all. An entire fucking map of his life.”
“Understood.” Hank busies himself with his phone, and I glance at the clock.
Evelyn should have been back by now. The motel is right there.
Did she run? Did she finally decide she was sick of this and leg it out of here?
I call her, but there’s no answer. It rings out long enough that Hank glances up from his phone and frowns deeply. “Evelyn?”
“Aye.” I’m out of the car by the time the robotic AI voice tells me to leave a voicemail.
If she ran, I will hunt her down and drag her back for leaving here without my permission. And if the cops have her, then I will make them regret ever sticking their nose in my business. Pigs should know their place, and if they don’t have helpful information for me, then I don’t have the patience to deal with them.
Hank follows hot on my heels as we sprint through the motel searching for Evelyn. I don’t care if the cameras pick me up or if someone sees me. All I care about is finding Evelyn. My lack of knowledge about this place gives me a small area to search, but as I sprint down one of the hallways, Hank barks out a noise. Turning, I watch him point out the window to a small side parking lot.
Evelyn.
She stands pressed against one of the cars with a tall man leering over her. He has both arms on either side of her shoulders, trapping her between him and the car, and they look close. Too close for my fucking liking.
My blood boils and I begin to suffocate in the heat. Is it anger that she didn’t come right back to me or jealousy that there is someone as close to her as I desire to be?
Suddenly, the strange man whips his hand and slaps Evelyn right across the face. Her head snaps to the side and my blood turns red hot in the blink of an eye.
“Cormac!” Hank yells as I charge out the door, but I don’t listen to him. Rage consumes me, pouring like lava through my veins. Evelyn and the stranger are blind to me as he grabs her by the throat and shakes her. Evelyn’s hand flies out and she slaps the stranger, but it barely affects him.
“You!” I bellow as I charge toward them like a bull.
Evelyn’s head turns and she looks at me with wide, tear-filled eyes. The strange man follows, but like every arrogant prick I’ve had the displeasure of facing, he doesn’t back down. He immediately squares up to me with a roll of his shoulders.
“Who’s this fucking cunt?” The man snorts.
“Dillon, don’t—” Evelyn gasps, and it’s the last thing I hear as I slam my shoulder into Dillon’s chest and tackle him to the ground.
He has nothing on me, not in size or in strength, so he crumples like a wet paper bag. We hit the ground hard with Dillon taking the brunt of the impact. I ball up my fist and punch him hard in the face, and once I start, I don’t stop. Fury consumes me. I punch him again. And again. His nose breaks under my fist, his jaw slams to the side, and hot blood sprays against my knuckles. My other hand locks onto the collar of his T-shirt, and I haul him upwards only to punch him back down into the ground again and again and again.
Finally, I have release. All the pain and wrath that’s churned inside me since I got the call about Brenden finally has somewhere to go, and the outpour of rage is impossible to stop. A few more slams of my brick-hard fist into Dillon’s face and his eye swells shut. He chokes and gargles on blood, but I hear nothing other than the rapid, fierce drum of my blood pumping in my ears.
I want to kill him. I want to feel his skull cave under my fist. I want to hear his dying gurgles and soak up his last tearful moment of regret.
“Don’t you ever dare put your hands on her again. Do you understand me, you fucking sack of shit?” I roar, pulling my punches enough to haul Dillon up toward my chest. “You touch her, hell, you even breathe the same fucking air as her ever again, and I will rip your spine out through your asshole and make you wear it as a leash until your pathetic excuse for existence finally fails you!”
I punch him repeatedly until my shoulder aches from the repetition.
Dillon doesn’t reply. By the time the cloud of anger finally dissipates, the man is a bloody, unconscious pulp and my knuckles throb from the impact. A white handkerchief appears at the corner of my eye from Hank, and I accept it while slowly climbing to my feet.
Breathing heavily, I begin to clean the blood from my fists. I lift my head and slowly turn to Evelyn, growing aware of how much I’ve likely terrified her even more. I have no explanation—none that I’m willing to share, at least—but when our eyes meet, it’s not terror that I see in her warm brown eyes.
It’s something else.
Curiosity? No, gratefulness?
Not quite.
“Evelyn, I—”
My apology that she had to see that, as weak as it would have been, dies because Evelyn throws herself forward and her plush red lips crash into mine in a desperate, heated kiss.
