Raw Redemption (Crossing the Line #4)(53)

The lava that had been flowing inside Ailish turned to cement, hardening immediately. She couldn’t catch a breath. Couldn’t believe her ears. “W-what? Why would he do that? I-I don’t understand.”

For the first time, Derek looked slightly uncomfortable. “That’s a question for Henrik to answer.” He cleared his throat. “But sometimes there’s no explanation for what a man will do for a woman. It just is.”

There was no stopping the tears from spilling down her cheeks this time. “Did you tell me this so I’d cooperate? So I’d go undercover in my own father’s house?” Derek didn’t answer. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

The captain propped a hip on the desk. “Again, that’s a question for Henrik. But I suspect because he didn’t want you to owe him anything.”

“But you’re counting on me seeing it that way, aren’t you?”

Rainwater trickled against the windows, running along the concrete outside, filling the silence. “I have a city to keep safe,” Derek said finally. “Are you going to help me, Ms. O’Kelly?”

Ailish thought of Henrik alone in the lion’s den. She knew what would get him out of the house as soon as possible, before her father figured out Henrik was an informant. Knew where weapons were located to keep them both safe, should that become necessary. She couldn’t leave Henrik to contend with her father indefinitely. Or it could very well end in his death. Fear pushed into her indignation, but she didn’t allow it to fester. Now was the time to focus, and maintaining her anger would be paramount. There was no denying a responsibility to Henrik, even after he’d lied. Locked her out. But this mission needed to be about her. Righting the wrongs she’d committed. Calling her father to the floor for taking lives with her handiwork.

She was going home. And when she walked out, hopefully she would finally leave the guilt and pain behind, once and for all.

Yes, she would focus on that. Not the fact that the man she craved was in danger. How would she cope otherwise?

“Yes,” she whispered. “I’ll help.”

...

Henrik rolled his neck, trying to work the kinks out. Last night, after hours of poring through files with Austin and Polly, learning everything there was to know about Caine O’Kelly, Henrik went a few rounds with his punching bag. There’d been no sleep to be had, because every time he closed his eyes, there was Ailish. Looking stricken, sold out…afraid.

His grip tightened on the steering wheel, making the leather creak. Breathe, man. Breathe. If he went into this operation thinking about Ailish, it would be unsuccessful. He would fail. But God, not being near her was torture on his soul. His mental state. His body. Everything.

If he didn’t have a man hog-tied in the trunk of his car right now, he might have given in to the urge to go see Ailish. Just for a few minutes, without anyone else around, so he could apologize for lying. Explain to her that putting her in harm’s way would be equivalent to burning his skin off with acid. How romantic. All right, he wasn’t exactly Casanova, but putting himself in the line of fire so Ailish wouldn’t have to go be an informant or be interrogated past her breaking point? That was the only way Henrik knew how to show her how he felt. So that’s what he would do, and hope she received the message. Or cared enough to look for it.

Late last night, he’d received a call from Derek, letting him know Ailish wasn’t cooperating. She refused to aid Henrik in his search for evidence, meaning Henrik would be on his own. He’d blocked the hurt, telling himself Ailish’s reticence was justified after his dishonesty, but as he headed into the fray, the hurt couldn’t be subdued. It might take a while without the intel she could provide—hell, months—but he would gain O’Kelly’s confidence and get the job done. And hope with every ounce of his being that Ailish would speak to him when it was all over. That was all he had.

That. And a criminal stuffed into his trunk. A suspiciously quiet criminal, at that. Derek had shown up with the vehicle half an hour ago at the designated meeting stop, tossing Henrik the keys and instructing him to climb in and drive. And while Henrik hadn’t appreciated being ordered around—especially since his ass would be on the line during the operation—he’d needed to prevent himself from asking the captain about Ailish. Was she comfortable? How many times had she cursed him to hell?

Up ahead, Henrik saw the gated grounds of O’Kelly’s house, manicured lawn running the perimeter. A suited man with an earpiece stood just inside the gate, watching Henrik approach. Expecting him? Hard to tell. There’d been no set schedule with O’Kelly. Hell, they’d barely made an agreement. Henrik pushed the car into park and waited, tapping his fingers on the wheel as the guard spoke into his earpiece. When the man finally approached the car, he gave Henrik a once-over and signaled him to roll down the window.

“Morning,” Henrik drawled.

The guard grunted. “Mr. O’Kelly was expecting you to bring a package.”

Henrik forced himself not to stiffen at hearing Ailish referred to as a package, but he wanted to wrap the man’s tie in his fist, yank down, and slam his head against the car door. The fact that it wasn’t actually Ailish in the trunk might have saved the guy a concussion. “I have what he’s looking for in the trunk.”

An impressed eyebrow lift. “Go ahead and pop it. We’ll have a look.”