3. Chapter 3
Harley
“Harley.” A hand nudged my shoulder. “Hey.”
My eyes felt like they were glued shut, and it took me a moment to pry them open. Brother Samuel crouched next to the bed, his face illuminated by the soft glow of a kerosene lamp.
I shot upright. “Is he here?” My heart pounded as I looked around the small room with its spartan pine furniture.
No one was here. Just Brother Samuel.
“It’s okay. You’re safe, Harley.”
I looked back at the monk, his deep voice and choice of words soothing my nerves not for the first time. He exuded a calmness that allowed me to . . . breathe.
A deep crease built between his dark brows. “I woke you up because it’s time to go if you don’t want anyone knowing you’re here. Soon, the community gets up for Vigils.”
Oh. And I was keeping him. What he’d done for me, allowing me to stay without telling anyone or asking questions . . . I wished I could tell him how much it meant.
Guilt gnawing at me, I pushed the linen blankets away. Even though I still wore my jeans and T-shirt, Brother Samuel averted his gaze.
“I’ll be waiting outside. Please bring the lamp with you.” He hiked a thumb over his shoulder as if I didn’t know where the door was, then turned and left.
Why did he look so familiar? I could swear I knew him from somewhere. Or maybe it was simply because he had a handsome face. With those dark brown loose curls—longer on top, shorter at the sides—the strong jaw, trimmed beard, and sea-green eyes I would’ve guessed him to be anything but a monk.
I rolled my eyes. As if monks can’t be good-looking, Harley.
After putting on my sneakers, I made a stop in the bathroom, then joined Brother Samuel outside.
He stood a couple yards from the door, feet planted, broad shoulders squared in that black habit.
A rosary dangled from his belt. I’d honestly had no idea that Christian monks lived up here, let alone on this island. Although Saint James did ring a bell.
“Did you sleep okay?” He took the kerosene lamp from me and turned it off. Why, I had no idea. The sky was only starting to brighten, the stars still winking down on us, the trees and mountains mere shadows.
“I did.” I hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but I’d been so exhausted. And knowing that Brother Samuel was outside, watching out for me . . .
He didn’t say anything as he led me across a field, then through a small forest. Everything up here was lush, the air so much cleaner and cooler than in the lowlands.
Finally, we reached the thick wall I’d climbed yesterday.
But our surroundings looked different. No lake in sight.
We had to be on the other side of the monastery.
Brother Samuel approached an iron door and slid back the three bolts.
My heart raced when I slowly followed him outside. I scanned the stretch of grass, the jungle beyond it, then the gravel parking lot. Yup, we were on the opposite side.
“Is that yours?” Brother Samuel pointed at my Beetle haphazardly parked in the middle of the lot.
“Yes.”
The two other vehicles—a white van and a pickup—had been here when I’d arrived, so they had to belong to the monastery. Craig’s cobalt Charger wasn’t anywhere in sight.
Which meant exactly nothing. He could be waiting somewhere down the road. Or at Golden Palace.
Or worse, at my apartment.
I shuddered.
“You okay?”
Brother Samuel’s question snapped me out of my thoughts. Apparently I had stopped walking.
“Yup.” I forced my legs back into motion.
He narrowed his eyes at me as if he could see straight through my lie.
But he didn’t call me out on it. Instead, he escorted me all the way to my Beetle.
He, too, kept looking around. Although it seemed like he especially monitored the main entrance that now came into view.
Was he worried someone of his community could see us?
For my sake or his? Would he get into trouble if anyone saw him with me? A woman?
I fumbled the key fob from my jeans. My hands shook so hard I dropped it. I bent to pick it up, stifling a groan when pain shot through my hip. A reminder of the fence I’d fallen off.
A reminder of three men chasing me. Probably to kill me.
My throat tightened. I should’ve never followed Craig.
I’d been at Bella’s—nothing unusual on my nights off—and since we were both night owls, we’d chatted long past midnight.
Just as I hit the road, Craig’s Charger had passed me.
He drove weird, like he was drunk. So I’d followed him.
And now he was after me just because I had to satisfy my curiosity.
Calm down, Harley. Craig has better things to do than to hunt you down.
“Harley.” Brother Samuel stared down at me.
I blinked. “What?” Had he said something?
“Is it safe for you to leave?”
“I’ll be okay.” Hopefully.
I unlocked my car and opened the driver’s door. Brother Samuel held it as I slid behind the wheel. I could feel his gaze burn into me. Why did he care so much? He didn’t even know me.
“It’s fine.” I met his gaze. “Really.”
Please tell me to stay.
Maybe he could read thoughts, because he kept holding on to the door. “I can’t let you go without knowing you’re safe.”
My breath stalled. What was I supposed to say to that?
He glanced over his shoulder, then back at me. “Let me talk to the abbot. I’m sure he’ll let you stay at the guesthouse for another couple of days.”
I chewed at my bottom lip. Everything in me screamed, “say yes!” Those stone walls were the best protection I could ask for. Craig would never try to get into a monastery.
And Brother Samuel . . . Something told me he would stand between me and whatever threat came my way.
“I have to work tonight,” I said.
“Where do you work?”
“Golden Palace.”
“The club?”
Surprise lit through me. How did a monk know about Glam City’s nightlife?
“Yes. As a waitress in the VIP section.” I groaned inwardly. Monk or not, I shouldn’t share so much information about myself with a stranger. The times were dangerous for oversharers like me.
“Can someone cover your shift?”
“Technically, yes.” Rome wouldn’t be happy though.
Rome. I had to talk to him. Maybe he could tell me what the Mafia was up to. He was one of them, even though he’d been trying to get out for months. The son of a Mafia don didn’t just walk away from the Cosa Nostra. Death was the only exit.
“All right, you’re staying.”
I swallowed. “I don’t know—”
“Brother Samuel?”
The monk whirled toward the voice coming from behind him. “Father Cruz.”
A man in priest clothing approached us. Daylight had increased just enough for me to make out a kind tanned face, sharp eyes, and salt-and-pepper hair.
“Good morning, ma’am.” He gave me a nod, then he pinned Brother Samuel, whose posture had gone rigid, with a look. “Is everything all right?”
Brother Samuel’s gaze snapped to me, then back to the priest. “It’s not what it looks like. I can explain.”
Uh-oh, had I gotten him into trouble?