Page 43 of Inflict

“And?”

“And what? It’s gone—went up like feckin’ matchsticks, nothing new.”

Sean grunted something under his breath. “You’re sure?”

Connor kept an eye on Evelyn as he said, “Yeah, just the one. The place was empty.”

He knew lying would get him nowhere in the end.

How long could he keep the lie up?

How long could he hide what he had done?

Why had he even bothered in the first place?

Evelyn’s gaze turned on him, all green- and gold-flecked, familiar and unknown at the same time. Connor knew she was staring at a monster, likely. Bloodstained, dressed in black, and three times her size, standing above her.

Yet, she just … stared at him.

Unafraid.

Quiet.

Still.

Waiting.

“You’re sure,” Sean pressed again, not posing it as a question the second time.

Connor had no doubt his father’s hands had somehow found themselves into the situation Evelyn had been in for two decades—that was why he expected her to be there at the Russian’s house. Not someone, no. Her.

But why?

“It was empty,” Connor repeated. “I checked every room.”

He’d be sticking to that.

Until he couldn’t, anyway.

• • •

The brownstone was both quiet and dark when Connor stepped through the front door. He hadn’t been in the mood to cook, and he wasn’t very hungry himself, but just a look at Evelyn and he knew she needed some kind of sustenance in her body. He probably could have gotten her into the truck for the drive to grab some food, but decided against it after the night she’d already had.

Now, he was wondering if he had made the wrong choice.

Had she run?

It was unlikely, simply because where in the hell could Evelyn go? She had nothing to get her places, nothing to sell for money, and he didn’t even know if the girl was street smart enough to do any of those things, even if she did have something to take.

His suspicions were confirmed when he walked into the dark living room to find Evelyn exactly where he had left her. He’d only told her to stay, and nothing else. She still sat there on the couch, staring at the wall, with her hands neatly folded in her lap as though she were a frozen doll, waiting to be woken up again.

Connor wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.

He dropped the bag of take-out—a breakfast spread from a diner nearby that opened very early—on the glass coffee table, but even then, Evelyn didn’t react.

“All right, lass,” Connor said, taking a seat beside her on the couch. “We’ve got whatever you want to chow on—pancakes, waffles, eggs, bacon, hash browns, and I’ve got coffee and tea in the kitchen. Or there’s some bottled juice in the bag with the food.”

Evelyn turned, eyeing the bags and the Styrofoam containers as Connor pulled each thing out and set the spread over the top of the coffee table. He expected her to reach out and take whatever she wanted once he had everything opened up, but she did nothing of the sort. Instead, she looked to him, as though she was waiting on his choice for her.