Rake (Wolfes of Manhattan 4)

“Will do, boss.”

“And stop calling me boss.”

He laughed as he stood. “Okay, commander.”

Still a SEAL to his core.

Leif was a good guy. Someone I’d brought in myself. I’d thought I trusted him, but I realized something important after our conversation.

I could no longer trust anyone but myself.

33

Zee

St. Andrew’s was a beautiful old building of gray stone. I almost felt like I was visiting an ancient cathedral in Europe. Not that I’d ever gone to Europe, but situated in the heart of the city, the church made me feel like time was flowing backward. Funny, I hadn’t noticed any of this when I was a kid and my mother brought me here. It was just church.

I walked up the stone steps and through the ornate doors into the narthex attached to the sanctuary. One wall held a bulletin board with notices of events, times for mass, and charitable drives.

I opened the door to the sanctuary and walked in. The noonday sun cast flickers of color through the stained glass windows. A lone woman knelt at the altar holding a candle.

I walked slowly toward the altar, mesmerized by the beauty of the golden crucifix standing there.

I gasped when someone touched my arm.

“May I help you with something?”

A young priest stood next to me, clad in black with his white collar. “Are you…” My nerves fluttered and my stomach churned. “Father Jim?” I knew well he wasn’t, but my mouth ran off on its own.

“No, I’m Father Amos Baca. I’m interning here.”

Father Amos dark skinned and handsome, and he had a very kind face. He seemed a little old to be an intern, though. He had laugh wrinkles around his brown eyes.

“What’s that woman doing?” I asked.

“She’s lighting a candle for a loved one.”

“Oh. Of course.”

“Parishioners come in and out during the week. To light a candle. To pray. To attend confession.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve been to church,” I said truthfully.

“Indeed,” he said. “Then may I ask why you’re here?”

Why was I here? I’d been thinking about how I used to talk to a pastor. Thinking I wanted to take my life back. Then here I was. The parish where one of my hunters worked.

“I’m not sure I know,” I replied.

“Do you want to talk about anything?”

I sighed. Such a loaded question. “I don’t have a good past. With priests, I mean.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He smiled. “We’re not all bad.”

His smile was genuine, but still, I panicked.

Cold fear welled up in me, and I turned swiftly.

“Miss?” the priest said.

I didn’t turn around. “I have to go. I’m… I’m sorry.” My steps quickened until I was outside the sanctuary.

Sanctuary. This was supposed to be a place of sanctuary.

I sped through the narthex and out the door until I was completely outside the church.

No longer did I adore its beauty.

Now it was a hostile place. A place that made me feel the way I’d felt all those years ago.

My breathing came rapidly. Too rapidly. My legs turned to jelly, and my vision blurred.

No. No. No. Not now. Not here.

What had I been thinking, coming here? Take back my life? I could do that without facing the priest who tormented me.

“Miss?”

I stumbled, and strong arms caught me.

The intern priest. Father Amos Baca.

“Are you all right? Should I call someone for you?”

I willed my body to work. “No. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine. Let’s go back in. I’ll get you some water. Or some herb tea.”

“No. Please. Just let me go.” I shrugged him away.

He dropped his hands from me. “Of course.”

“You should…”

“I should what?” he asked.

“You should get rid of Father Jim,” I said. “He’s not who you think he is.”

Then I ran.

I ran until I was somewhere behind the church, in a rose garden. The roses were in bloom, and their scent infused the air. I breathed in deeply. Rose was supposed to calm, but it did anything but. I stared at the ground. A piece of white paper lay between the bushes. I knelt down and absently grabbed it, not knowing why. I crushed it in my fist and tried to stand.

I breathed in again, but the air forced itself outward as quickly as I could get it into my lungs. Panic. Sheer panic.

I fell to the ground. Among the leaves and thorns. Help Help Help.

Then bells ringing.

Bells. A church bell?

I shifted back to reality. It was a phone. My phone.

I breathed in hard and grabbed the phone out of my purse, not bothering to look at who was calling. “Hello?” I said breathlessly.

“Zee.”

Reid’s voice. Reid’s soothing voice.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I said, trying not to stammer. “I’m okay. Now.”

34

Reid

“You don’t sound okay.”

Worry for Zee edged through me. She sounded out of breath. Maybe she was working out. But I knew that wasn’t the issue. I wasn’t sure how I knew, but I did.