Page 26 of Absolution

What have I done?

Gaze still cast from mine, her jaw hardens in a way that makes me want to bite down on it while I pin her to the wall. “I know what I saw. And I’m not afraid.”

“You look pretty afraid to me. I can feel you trembling.”

“It’s not fear.” Damn her when those green eyes meet mine, brimming with the kind of wicked desire that lets me know exactly who has the upper hand. “I want you to kill him. Discard him the same way you discarded that body. I need him out of my life, or it’ll be my body tossed into some reeking hole in the ground.”

“You’re asking me to kill a man for you.”

“Are you going to tell me you didn’t kill the man you dumped?”

“He kidnapped a child. Kept her in a cage. Hurt her. Raped her.”

“And because I’m not a child, I’m less deserving of your empathy? I’ve already told you, I have no other choice. This is my cage. And I can assure you, he’s hurt and raped me, too.”

Pinching the bridge of my nose fails to calm the sudden shit-storm swirling inside my head. “Ivy, contrary to what you might think, I’m a priest. Not a hitman.”

“Funny. You looked perfectly comfortable from where I watched. Who is it … thebishopI would need to contact in this matter?”

My eye twitches, and before I can stop myself, I grip her throat, pinning her to the wall behind her. “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”

“Or what? You’ll kill me, too? Father?”

“You’re quite the little serpent, aren’t you? Disguising yourself as innocent and naïve?”

“And you’re a wolf in sheep’s clothing, so how bout we both shed these skins and be real for a moment. You want my silence. I want my freedom. Surely, we can come to an agreement.”

“Is this why you invited me up here? To dig your fangs into me?”

“It’s not just me he’s hurt. He’s a murderer. He’s killed families. Just like yours.”

“You know this? You’ve seen him kill?”

“No. It’s just a feeling. You’d feel it, too, if you met him.”

“I’m not going to kill based on abad feeling. They have websites for that. As for what you think you saw, I won’t be blackmailed into playing your little games.” I release my hand from her throat, remorseful that I lay them on her, at all. I’d call it reflexive, but I’ve never threatened a woman that way before—not even one who played me, which tells me Ivy has awakened some uncontrollable urges inside of me. All the more reason to stay as far away from her as possible. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to the church.”

I turn to leave, but at the tight grip of my arm, I swing around, and perhaps the warning in my eyes is enough, because she lets me go.

“You think I’m just some weak woman out to rope you into my shit? I got into a bad situation with a very bad man, and I can’t get out.” Her voice cracks on the last word, and maybe the tears that follow are the first sincere show of emotion, but I wouldn’t know. “Nothing I’ve tried will remove this bastard from my life. So, you can bet your ass, I’ll take whatever bold steps I have to in order to get my life back. If that means asking a priest to kill for me, so be it.”

I don’t even let that sink in before exiting the apartment. And as I make my way down the staircase, I reach down to adjust the second massive erection she’s worked up in a matter of two days.

12

Ivy

The mind is a terrible tormentor, sometimes, the way it can make a person relive something in punishing repetition. Nearly a week has passed since Father Damon heard my confession, and all I’ve thought about since is the look of betrayal in his eyes. Not a hint of fear in that dark broody gaze, but the hurt and shock damn near made me buckle. I didn’t want to hurt him. Every part of me wanted to apologize and assure him that I would never say a word to another soul. I wanted him to trust me and know that I would never deceive him by going to his superior.

But if I give him that assurance, I’ll be forced to entertain Calvin for as long as the asshole breathes, and that kills me more than having to relive the punishing look in Father Damon’s eyes.

I click send on the email addressed to Bishop McDonnell, carbon-copied to Father Damon.

Just a warning shot at this point.

In the email, I merely sing Father Damon’s praises, touting him as an incredible leader and spiritual guide to the community. Short and sweet, and packed with so much punch, my fingers are tingling. I decided to wait until just before I walk out the door for work, because any sooner would have had me sitting around all day, biting my nails, wondering if he’ll get a hankering to kill me, instead.

I need him to know I’m serious. Particularly after yesterday morning, when I entered Mamie’s room to find a bouquet of flowers Calvin sent her. The accompanying card read:Smothering you with love.

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