Biker's Virgin

I was whispering as I said, “Jace, I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to call. I don’t know anyone in town… I’m scared…”

He sounded confused as he said, “Daphne tell me what’s happening.”

I wiped the tears off my face with the back of my hand and said, “It’s my father. He’s at my front door, and he’s drunk. He’s threatening to kick down the door, Jace. He will, too, and then he’ll hurt me.”

“Dear God!” I hated the sound of people’s voices when they found out that my father is a monster. “Daphne, did you call the police?”

“No. I can’t.”

“Why? Daphne, you need to call the police!”

I know I sounded hysterical, but at the moment, I just couldn’t think straight. “I can’t do that again! It didn’t do any good last time and it made things worse! I’m sorry I called you.”

I started to hang up and he said, “Wait? Again? He’s done this before? He hurts you, Daphne?”

“I don’t want to talk about that right now, Jace. I need to find some help or he’s going to hurt me again. I’ll let you go, I’m sorry.”

“No! I’ll be there, okay? I have to get dressed, and I’ll be right there. Don’t let him in.”

“I won’t. I’m pretending I’m not even here…but he still won’t leave.” My hands were trembling so hard I nearly dropped the phone. My father kicked the door again, hard.

“I’ll be right there. It’s going to be okay. Do you want to stay on the phone with me?”

“No, I want you to be safe driving over. I’ll wait for you. Jace?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” I whispered. I disconnected the call, reluctantly, and slid against the wall to the floor. I sat there with my arms wrapped around my knees, shaking and crying and hoping like hell that I hadn’t done the wrong thing by calling Jace.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Jace

I went from a dead sleep to infused with adrenaline in about 30 seconds flat. I had no idea why Daphne would call me instead of the cops, but I couldn't just leave her alone to deal with someone who was threatening her.

She sounded scared to death. He must have hurt her really bad in the past. I had a hard time even letting myself imagine that. Every time I did, I was suddenly filled with an anger that I’d never experienced before.

I’m a priest. I’m a pacifist. I’d never actually been in a fight. I’d trained for them, but that was always just supposed to be about exercise. I was never supposed to use it.

When I first became a priest, I met this other young father that was completely ripped. I couldn’t help but notice and one day, I finally asked him about it. Growing up, all the priests and Bishops that I’d known had been older and most of them were soft and a little paunchy. I’d assumed back then that taking care of their body would be considered vanity and vanity is a sin.

But this young priest told me about a new movement amongst the leaders of the Catholic Church. It involved being physically fit. Taking better care of the “temple” that God gave you.

I started going to his gym with him. It was a gym opened by a devoutly Catholic family, and the man who did the classes and the personal training was one of the board members of our church. I started working out with him and because I’d always been healthy and athletically inclined, I progressed quickly.

After about six months of intense daily work-outs, he started teaching me the basics of boxing. I’ve been doing that with him now for over three years and I wouldn’t doubt that I could take on any MMA fighter and come out on top, if I was so inclined.

I’d never had the desire to beat anyone up, though…until that phone call. It was frightening and exhilarating at the same time.

As I threw on my clothes, I said a prayer for guidance and one for patience. It wasn’t going to look good for the acting priest of the biggest parish in Lexington to get arrested for assault. I may as well kiss my career and any good reputation I had left goodbye. I finished my prayers on the road and assured myself that there was no way I’d be getting into a fight.

When I drove up to Daphne’s apartment building, I could see her door. It faced the street and the outside light was on. There was a big man on the porch, and I watched as he kicked the door several times and then had to reach out and grab hold of the railing to steady him. I had to assume that was her loving father. Poor Daphne.

I parked the car and tried to think fast. At last, I decided that feigning ignorance might be my best option.

I jogged over to him. He was on the landing and there were three small steps that led up to it. “Excuse me, sir? Is everything okay?” I said it as politely as I could. I didn’t feel neighborly at all, but I hoped I sounded it.

He glanced over his shoulder at me. His look was dark and menacing. He narrowed his eyes and said, “Mind your own business.”