14. Chapter 14
Kingsley
“Are you taking care of our guest according to the Bible, Brother Samuel?”
Father Cruz’s question almost had me choking on my own breath. “I’ve been doing my best to accommodate her like she is Christ Himself.” Although I doubted I’d spend the night with Jesus in the same bed. And kiss Him.
My chest tightened. I wanted to tell Father Cruz everything—the dreams, the kiss, the confusing connection I felt to her.
I’d spent the entire night repenting to God and begging Him for forgiveness for letting the desires of my flesh take over.
It hadn’t helped much with the guilt, and that probably wouldn’t change until I’d confessed to Father Cruz.
But what if he told Harley to leave despite the danger she was in? I didn’t want her to pay for my lapses or because I couldn’t keep my head on straight around her.
“Good.” Father Cruz nodded. “Just be careful. You wouldn’t be the first man to fall for a beautiful woman.”
The look he gave me sent my heart jackhammering. Was he onto us? Wait. Had he seen us?
Unlikely, because he dismissed me without losing another word. But he definitely sensed that something wasn’t right.
Thank God for seminary and the opportunity to escape Father Cruz, and even more, Harley, for the rest of the day.
At least physically. My brain on the other hand .
. . The thought that Harley had probably watched me swimming laps in Serenity Lake this morning, that she’d seen me in my boxers, sat in my gut like a smoldering coal. And the kiss. Man, the kiss.
Over and over I tried to shake the thoughts, but no matter how hard I begged God to make them stop, they kept mercilessly playing on repeat like a movie that couldn’t be stopped.
When seminary was over for the day, I almost dreaded to go back to Saint James.
I was about to turn onto the road winding up the mountain when a motorcycle overtook me, the rider gesturing for me to follow.
Rome. He took the dirt path leading through the jungle to Silent Wharf, and I tailed him until we emerged at the abandoned harbor.
The sound of waves lapping concrete welcomed me when I got out of the F-150, the smell of old gasoline and rotten fish heavy in the air.
It was almost dark, a scatter of stars already visible.
“How is she?” Rome placed the helmet on his Yamaha and sauntered over to me.
“Good.” I scanned the run-down concrete buildings along the shore and the barely floating boats. “What are we doing here?”
“Got new intel.”
“That was fast.”
“No sleep for the wicked.” Rome gave me a jaded smirk, then sobered. “Harley was right, two of our family were involved with her ex—behind our back.” He stalked to the mouth of the concrete pier, and I followed. “They’ll never do that again.”
The way he said it left no doubt about what he’d done. The muscles in my shoulders tensed. Good thing he was on my side. “What about Fuller?”
“Dropped off the face of the earth. But don’t worry. I’ll find that son of a—” He coughed. “Sorry, Brother.”
I dismissed his apology with a shake of my head. “What are we doing here?”
We’d reached the end of the pier, and Rome unearthed his phone. Turned on the flashlight. “See this?” He pointed at small, dark spots at the edge of the pier. Dried Blood.
My gut convulsed. The idea that someone had been killed here in cold blood . . . “I think that’s a case for law enforcement.”
“Not yet.” Rome turned off the flashlight. “Harley did the right thing. Fuller is very popular in the DRPD. Nobody would believe her allegations. While I have a trustworthy contact in the DRPD, there’s nothing he can do without solid proof.”
“So you’re saying we need to find said proof?”
“Look at that, the monk has a brain.”
“He does, and the same brain tells him a monk doesn’t get tangled in the Mafia’s affairs or play Nancy Drew.”
“Not even for Harley’s sake?” When I didn’t say anything, the right corner of Rome’s mouth pulled into a smirk. “Man, you really have the hots for her, don’t you?”
I stared out at the dark ocean, feeling the urge to dive in. Swimming helped me to process and rearrange my thoughts. When something came between me and my laps, I couldn’t focus all day.
“I don’t hear you denying it,” Rome said.
No, I couldn’t deny my feelings for Harley because then I’d have to lie. Which I never did. But neither was I willing to admit my attraction to her out loud. Some things were better left unsaid.
“Look, man.” Rome’s tone was now void of any amusement.
“I’m not gonna tell you guys what to do and what not, but Harley’s been used enough by men.
I don’t wanna say she’s na?ve, but she believes in the good in people, which led to exploitation on her account in the past. If you turn out to be one of those dimwits, you’re gonna have to report back to me. ”
I stared at the guy. On one hand I was grateful Harley had people who cared about her, on the other I was offended that he thought I was the kind of man who’d take advantage of a woman. “I won’t do anything with or to her.”
“I’m not saying you would. Just informing you of the consequences.”
Right. “Do you have a problem with me personally, or is it because I’m from a monastic community?” I wasn’t usually one for confrontation, but if Rome wanted me to work with him, I needed to know what the issue was.
He glowered at me. I obviously hit a sore spot.
There was something my brain tried to get ahold of, but cou—
The revelation hit me like a fist to the gut. “I know all about you guys at Saint James.” The scandal. He was about the right age.
“You were one of the boys at Saint James.” My conclusion emerged breathless and strained, like I’d actually been punched.
Rome’s hands curled into fists as he turned his head away, his shirt straining across his chest with every ragged breath. He looked like he was about to beat the living daylights out of someone. Like me.
“I’m so sorry, man,” I said quietly. Bile pooled at the back of my throat. No surprise he had an issue with me.
Rome rounded on me, grabbed the collar of my habit, and got in my face. “I swear to God, Grady”—he growled, his Italian accent thick—“if you tell anyone, I’m gonna cut off your tongue and feed it to you.”
Maintaining eye contact, I kept my voice and demeanor calm. “I won’t, you have my promise.”
His gaze drilled into me, and although it was almost dark now, I could see the moisture gathering in his eyes. “You bet you won’t.”
He shoved me back so hard I stumbled a couple of steps, almost going over the edge of the pier. I caught myself, then watched him stalk past the run-down boats back to the harbor.
I followed a few paces behind. Our conversation wasn’t over. “What about the evidence?” I asked, once I’d reached him. He sat on his bike, helmet on.
“I’ll comb the whole cursed island until I find those crates. It’s only a matter of time.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Keep your mouth shut.” With that, he revved his bike, then tore off.
Long after he’d disappeared in the jungle, I stood there, staring into the dark. Where on earth had Harley’s ex gone, and why was he hiding? Was he even hiding, or was he simply plotting his next move? What about Rome, Lord? He’s not okay. Is there something I can do for him?
And Harley . . . I dreaded to go back to Saint James and face her.
But I didn’t have a choice.