Page 67 of I Will Break You

“Tom. Call me Tom,” he says, his gray eyes sparkling.

He’s far too good looking to be a priest with his strong brow, perfectly straight nose, and a jaw like Batman. In the store’s strip light, his caramel-colored hair even sweeps around his face like a halo.

I try not to gaze at lips that look soft enough to kiss. Men like him prefer church girls, not sinners. That’s if they’re not already bound by vows of celibacy. But I’ve read enough smutty romance to know that sort of thing won’t stop a pervy priest.

“There was a lot of police activity on the drive this morning. Do you know what happened?”

My heart sinks a little into my stomach. I have no idea why I’m disappointed he only wants gossip about the street. It’s not like I wanted to get anything started. Besides, if Xero can kill a man and carve out his tongue for offering to lick my pussy, then chatting up a sexy priest would be like writing his name in a Death Note.

Reverend Tom leans into me, his lips so close to my ear that my skin tingles with static electricity. “You can confide in me anytime.”

Tingles spread across my skin. I jump back, my eyes flying open, my cheeks burning. “I think one of Relaney’s friends was found hanging,” I blurt. “And the police came to investigate.”

His brow furrows. “But it wasn’t a suicide.”

“What makes you think that?” My voice rises several guilty octaves.

“They only send in forensic teams for murders.” He nods, as though he knows all about about criminal investigations.

I shuffle on my feet, not knowing what he wants me to say. Chappy sure as hell didn’t cut out his own tongue and hang himself from the ceiling.

“Do you know anything about evil spirits?” I ask.

His eyes widen. “You think he was possessed?”

“Umm… maybe? I’m just asking. I thought, because you deal with the supernatural, you might know something about getting rid of ghosts.”

He looks at me for several heartbeats, like he’s trying and failing to solve a nonsensical riddle. “So, you’re afraid the man’s spirit will linger?”

My jaw tightens. Why am I continuing this conversation? I should pay for my booze and leave. But Catholic priests cast out demons in the movies. Maybe vicars of his denomination can do something similar?

“I’ve heard salt can create a barrier,” he says, his eyes dancing with amusement. “And, of course, there’s holy water.”

“Where can I buy it?” I blurt.

He chuckles, the sound rich. “Come with me.”

I walk with Reverend Tom through the supermarket, to the aisle that sells bottled water. A few women we pass cast him admiring glances and smiles. I can’t blame them. He’s stunning if you like them vanilla. I, however, do not.

All the while, the phone in my purse buzzes with messages. Knowing my luck, it won’t be Myra telling me she’s found my manuscript and has set up a bunch of meetings for the book fair.

Reverend Tom picks up a bottle of Evian and wiggles his fingers. “Watch this.”

“Wait.” I rush down the aisle, my vodka clinking within the metal basket, and grab two plastic water bottles of a brand I don’t recognize. “Can you do it with a cheaper one?”

He smirks. “Of course.”

I bounce on my heels, my heart soaring as he blesses the water. When he places it in my basket, I beam.

“Thank you. This is awesome!”

He gives me that look again. The one where he thinks I might be unhinged. His gaze flickers with questions he’s too polite to ask. Smile fading, he says, “Amethyst, are you alright?”

“Of course. What do you mean?”

As his gaze travels down to my neck, my stomach plummets to the linoleum. If Officer Vayne noticed red marks on it hours ago this morning, then they’ve probably already turned purple. Dipping my chin, I try to make them less noticeable, but it only makes his brows pinch with concern.

“I’m only next door if you need to talk about anything. You know that, right?” he asks.

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