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, likehe 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 informationabout 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.”