Page 42 of The Reaper

I hope this email finds you well. We’ve received the memo of your relocation and below is the information for your meeting with our church leader in New Hampshire. They are expecting your presence on Wednesday, April 12, 2023, at 12:00 p.m. Accommodation for you has been arranged should you decide to stay overnight. This is an urgent matter and cannot be rescheduled. The success of your mission depends on this meeting. Time is of the essence.

Sincerely,

Archbishop Lloyd

While I was thankful that details about my mission were finally in motion, the seed of anxiety began to grow.

***

Hours later, my heart sank at seeing the flat tires on the car Jessica had rented for my trip to the Archbishop Retreat Mansion upcountry. “We can call for a replacement,” she said, wringing her hands, her eyes red with tears and narrowed in confusion. “I don’t know what happened. Tim and I drove it here just fine.”

“It’s okay.” I tapped her shoulder, soothing her. “Abrupt change in weather does that sometimes.” The temperature last night fell way below Boston’s spring average, leaving frost on the ground. It could be why all four of the tires were flat. “We’ll figure something out,” I added. I needed to come up with a plan quickly if I wanted to make the noon meeting.

It’d been weeks since my arrival in Boston and I was desperate to learn more about my mission. Was I expected to stay here long term? Was there any special assignment? I glanced at my watch. I had exactly two hours to get there and, according to the map I saw early this morning, the driving distance to Sugar Hill would take a little over ninety minutes, and that was without traffic.

“Father?” Jessica asked, bringing me out of my musing.

“Yes?”

“Do you think you can reschedule to later today? I can call them and ask for a different car.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t reschedule.” She wouldn’t know that when they summoned you, you went.

The low purring of a motorcycle caused both of us to turn toward the street. A sleek red bike stopped at the curb, the rider using a leg to balance. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew who it was.

“I’ll take you,” growled the voice that stirred my desire.

Jessica gasped. “Who are you?” Her eyes were as big as dinner plates before they narrowed in suspicion.

“I’m a friend. Father Saint James and I go way back,” he answered. Again, I didn’t need to see the smug look on his face to know he was grinning beneath the tinted visor.

Jessica looked at me then back to Archer, who was now standing next to the rental car.

“What happened here?” he asked, examining the tires.

“Flat tires,” I answered.

“Well, that’s too bad,” he said. He directed his attention to me. “I don’t mind.”

“I don’t want to put you out because I need to stay overnight.”

Jessica and the man stayed quiet. “So …” Jessica began. “You could at least get there, and Tim or I could pick you up tomorrow?”

This was the craziest idea ever, but I couldn’t delay for much longer. “Okay,” I said, picking up my small duffel bag from the ground. “Is there a place to store this?”

“We’ll make it fit.” Damn if that statement didn’t make me feel hot and bothered.

“Let’s go then,” I said, and made my way to his motorcycle.

“Thank you,” Jessica said, looking relieved that today hadn’t turned out to be a disaster. “What’s your name?” she asked, but Archer kept walking as if he didn’t hear her question.

“Use this.” He took his helmet off, handing it to me. He used his fingers to comb his wild hair back in place. He took his jacket off, revealing a tight black henley, and held it out as well.

“No, I don’t need that,” I said.

“You’ll freeze your ass off,” he said. “This ain’t no New Mexico.”

“How did you know I was from New Mexico?”

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