Chapter 20
Twenty
Mercy
We descend on Dominic’s door, three Sinners at the height of nerves, sugar, and adrenaline.
The key snicks open, and I’m at once reminded why prison cells are a thing: the Saint is fucking huge.
He’s perched on a solid wooden chair, back to the wall, shaved head gleaming beneath the overhead bulb, and reading an honest-to-God Bible.
His designer suit jacket hangs on the bedpost. His dark shirt is perfectly pressed, even in captivity.
The contrast is bananas. He’s so still, it’s like walking into a mausoleum.
He doesn’t even flinch when Raven swings the door open wide enough to rattle the hinges. But he does look up, big grey eyes flat and unbothered as he slowly closes the Bible.
“Dominic,” I greet. “You know why we’re here.”
“Sì.”
Silence stretches.
Okay, then.
It’s time to get real with our interrogation tactics. Tawny stands by the door, arms folded, while I investigate Dominic’s belongings, and Raven stands dead ahead of him in a staring contest he won’t win.
Apart from his Versace suit, Rolex, and Ferragamo shoes, the Saint doesn’t own much, except for some gym clothes, a few pieces of religious paraphernalia, and the Italian Bible in his hands.
“I went through your phone,” Raven eventually says.
I run my finger across the desk, but no dust comes away. There’s not much else to search in the room, so I hold out my hand for him to place his Bible in. He does, without so much as a blink.
“Nothing to say about that?” Raven asks him.
Silence.
He’s not as fluent in English as Cisco, so I quickly translate. I’m a better linguist than the others, so it makes sense. Raven still scowls at me, though, as if I’m cramping her style.
You translate then, I say with my glare.
She pulls out the cell phone that must belong to the Saint, flicks through a few messages, then holds the screen up to him.
“What is this bullshit?” she demands.
“Scusa?”
“You only ever chat with Father Angelotti, Wesley, Zeke, and—” She thumbs through to a different chat. “Old Monsignor messages.” She waggles the phone. “It’s all small talk. Bullshit.”
He shrugs.
Raven tosses the phone into his lap. “What exactly does a Saint do?”
I pause my page flip through the Bible, interested in his answer.
Raven counts on her fingers. “The priest is the exorcist. Zeke is the firepower. Wesley is the smart one. But you—what is your purpose here?”
His eyes lock with hers. “I ask myself the same question every day.”
She snorts. “What does Rome really want?”
Another shrug barely ripples Dominic’s muscles. “To stop the end of the world.”
I slam the Bible closed and put it on the desk.
“He’s nobody,” I tell Raven. “Moral support.”
“Nah.” Her fingers twitch at her side. “He’s something. He’s just hiding it.”
I move to the closet and open it for a deeper look. More boring clothes. He’s a neat freak like Leila and Hannah. Lord save Raven if this is her man.
“Stand,” she orders.
Knees crack. Fabric rustles. I glance over my shoulder and catch Tawny hiding a smirk at Dominic towering over Raven, toe to toe.
“Turn around, Saint.” She twirls her finger. “Wide stance. Hands on the wall.”
His jaw flexes, but he stays calm and glances around. The room is too small for free wall space. Raven kicks his chair out of the way to give him room, then he does as he is told.
As soon as his back is to us, I drop the act and my jaw, gesturing at the man with the perfect ass.
“Fucking hot,” I mouth to Raven. “You should definitely hit that.”
I also mime fucking with my fists, pumping beside my thrusting hips.
Raven scowls darkly at me. But Tawny gets it. She’s biting her lip, fanning her face.
The Saint’s pose defines all the God-given assets in perfectly defined Versace clarity.
Raven bares her teeth and jabs a finger in the air at both of us. A warning, maybe?
We’re silent for too long, and Dominic glances over his shoulder. “Is okay?”
“Is very okay.” I whistle low.
“This finished?” He tries to face us, and I glimpse his confused expression before Raven grabs him by the guns and shoves him back against the wall.
“You’re not done.” She gets on her tiptoes to line up her lips to his ear. “You’re done when I say you’re done.”
She shoves off him and starts pacing.
Okay. She’s more agitated than she should be. We share a brief meeting of the eyes, and then she pulls out her dagger and holds it to the side of Dominic’s neck.
“Strip,” she demands.
He tenses. “Scusa?”
“Time for a cavity search.”
Dominic goes so quiet that I think he’s turned to stone.
Raven is just trying to push his buttons, the same way she’s been doing since he arrived. I hope. But he doesn’t take the bait. He never does.
In Italian, he answers, voice deep, “If my disrobing will bring you to a place of greater peace, little shadow, then I accept.”
Ombrina…
“Little shadow?” I ask, staying in Italian. “Because she follows you around?”
His eyes sparkle at me from over his shoulder.
“Someone has to make sure he’s honest.” Raven points her dagger at me, then at the back of his head—the branded cross—and then back at me.
Maybe she expected something other than the disbelief in my eyes because she quickly refocuses on Dominic.
“You could be a wolf in sheep’s clothing,” she mutters into his ear, on tiptoes.
I move to stand beside Tawny by the door and whisper behind my hand, “We’re not really going through with this, are we?”
All I receive is a perplexed look in return.
“Come on.” Raven prods Dom’s lower back with her finger. “We don’t have all day.”
He hands his head and mutters a furious Italian prayer, but then starts unbuttoning.
This is a tactic, right?
This is all to make him feel uncomfortable, so that he gives in and blurts out whatever secrets he holds … but honestly … I think I’m getting turned on.
Button after button is released with slow, methodical action. Dominic peels his shirt off his broad, ripped shoulders, revealing smooth, hairless skin everywhere. Back muscles rippling. Lats perfectly oblique as he twists and tosses his shirt onto his cot.
Jesus Christ, those abs.
Fucking Adonis belt pointing down, down, down to where he’s now undoing his belt and half facing us, frowning at Raven’s lips.
I think she is still talking. Something angry because she’s waving her dagger in his face. None of it registers because Dominic drags his hands down his hips, exposing his tight trunks--and I see the outline of his cock.
My mouth goes dry. “Fuck me.”
“Me too,” Tawny adds quietly.
“For your sake, Rave,” I mumble, “he’d better be a shower, not a grower.”
“Agreed,” Tawny hums. “That thing would rip—”
Raven’s dagger suddenly embeds in the door between Tawny’s and my head, hilt juddering.
“Shut the fuck up,” she snarls, then switches to Mexican because he won’t understand. “He can understand English well enough. Saying things like that isn’t helping the cause.”
“Okay.” I show my palms.
“Sorry,” Tawny mumbles, then mouths to me behind Raven’s back, “She’s scary today.”
“Make yourselves useful,” Raven barks, “and hold him down for the cavity search.”
Wait. Is she really going through with this?
Tawny and I shuffle over, wearing identical looks of trepidation. Dominic, still half turned, sees it and starts to really worry. Raven gives him her back and winks at us. Her bitch-face mask is back on by the time she completes a full pivot.
Relief hits me hard. The game is still afoot.