Page 65 of Desert Thorns
“How’s the arm, Marino?” I asked, even though I didn’t feel like talking to him. I didn’t feel like talking to anyone at all. Just wanted to get back to the monastery and go for a swim. Disturbingly, a part of me wanted to go back to the glowworm cave so I could relive the moments I’d had with Harley. My conscience would never allow this, though. I needed to refocuson God. There was no room for a woman, no matter how much I loved her.
“Had worse,” Rome said. “Didn’t hit any bones or tendons, only muscle. I’m supposed to wear a sling, but I tossed it after ten minutes. Too restrictive.”
A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth, but I wasn’t really feeling it. “What can I do for you?”
“Had my DRPD source check out the bunker. Said it was empty. No MANPADS, no weapons, no bodies, no blood.”
I folded my arms and leaned against the F-150. “Which means what? We lost our chance to take Fuller down?”
“I don’t know, man.” Rome roughed a hand over his face, the golden cross dangling from his left ear catching the headlights of a passing car. He curled his hand into a fist, his eyes darkening. “No. I will hunt the guy down if it’s the last thing I do. For Harley.”
My heart spasmed at the mention of her name. “Do you know where she is? She . . . left. This morning.”
A gaggle of women moved past us, whispering and ogling Rome. He didn’t even bat an eye at them. They shoved a Latina wearing a red skirt and white blouse forward, and she floated up to us.
“Can I be your backpack sometime?” she asked Rome.
“No.”
Her eyes widened at his gruff answer.
As always, I felt the need to mediate. “Trust me,” I said, giving her a smile, “you don’t want to get on that bike. He rides like a maniac.”
She looked at me, taking me in. “Hey, I know you. You’re that monk that got arrested. You’re Keaton Grady’s brother, Kingston or something, right?”
I groaned inwardly. Of course she had to recognize me. How did I explain to her that I hadn’t gotten arrested, just pulled over and frisked?
“Can I take a picture with you?”
The hope lighting up her dark eyes almost made me say yes, even though I was ready to bolt.
“Listen, lady,” Rome said gruffly. “We’re trying to have a conversation here. So if you please could give us some room.”
She threw her hands up. “Geez, sorry.” With that, she whipped around and rejoined the other women.
Rome scoffed, then refocused on me. “Harley is staying with me.”
I swallowed hard. Sure, I’d told her to go to him, but the idea of her seeking comfort in him . . .
Drop it, man. You have no claim on her.
Not to mention her safety had priority.
“She okay?” I asked, my voice suddenly raw.
Rome stretched his neck. “Was pretty upset, but she’ll be fine. You know she’s a tough one.” He sighed. “Sorry this happened.”
That makes two of us.“We had it coming.” Except I hadn’t expected it to rip my heart out of my chest like it had. “Is there anything I can do to track down Fuller?”
“Nah, you’ve already gotten too wrapped up in the whole thing. You go back to living the monk life. You’re about to become a priest, right?”
“That was the idea.” After everything that’d happened I wasn’t so sure anymore. A priest was supposed to lead by example, not fall for worldly pleasures. A few months back I’d told Keaton that I would always be a Grady, the epitome of a rotten life. I’d been right.
What if being a priest wasn’t my vocation? What if I’d heard God wrong the entire time? My chest tightened. What else was I supposed to do? Saint James—being a monk—was all I knew.
“Hey.” Rome’s amber eyes flashed. “My theology isn’t on your level, but if I know anything, it’s that the Almighty can get you out of whatever mess you’ve gotten yourself into. He might allow you to eat the consequences, but He’ll stick by your side, walking every agonizing step of it with you.”
I nodded. Knew that, but I didn’t deserve it. Rotting in hell, that’s what I deserved.
