“Don’t be.” Konstantin ends the call, and I hang up, tossing the phone into the center console. I see the girl glance at me, fear evident in her wide green eyes, and as the car slows, she moves so quickly that I don’t realize what she’s about to do at first. Not until her hand has closed around the door handle, and I hear theclickas she goes to shove it open, undoubtedly to try to jump out.
I slam my hand down on the lock button, and she lets out a frustrated sob as they engage with a sharp sound.
"Let me out," she begs, her voice shaking. "Please, just let me out. I won't tell anyone what I saw, I swear."
I don't respond. There's no point in explaining to her that her promises don't matter. The Russo family won't take any chances, and neither can I. Instead, I focus on the road ahead, taking us toward the one place I know will be open at this hour, where I can get what I need done quickly and without questions.
The girl tries the door handle again, more frantically this time. "I said, let me out!"
"Stop," I snap, my voice harsh. I see her flinch out of the corner of my eye, but all that matters is that she listens to me. "You're going to hurt yourself."
She laughs, a choked, bitter sound. “You’re worried about me hurting myself? Why? Whoareyou?”
I don’t respond, my lips thinning as I stare at the road ahead. The rain is lashing the windshield in sheets, making it hard to see. I know that what this girl witnessed tonight was brutal, even by my standards. I can’t imagine what she must think of it, how it must have affected her. But I don’t have time to dwell on that. She doesn’t understand what she was dragged into, or how it’s changed her life forever, whether she wants it to or not. She doesn’t understand that tonight is an end, or a beginning, and I don’t have time to explain it to her.
Konstantin needs me back at the mansion. I’m going to handle this first, but…I don’t have time for long-winded conversations. I just need to get it done.
I swing the car hard to the right, pulling into another gravel parking lot. In front of us, its cream-colored façade gleaming in the rainy darkness, is a church.
The priest here, Father Martinez, knows me. He knows Konstantin. And while he might not approve of what we do, he approves of the changes Konstantin is trying to make, the balance that he tries to keep. He understands that Konstantin tries to do some good.
I feel sure that he’ll help me.
The girl is frozen again in her seat, staring at the building with wide eyes. Her mouth parts, confusion wreathing her features, and I try not to look at her lips. Even rain-soaked, her strawberry-blonde hair darkened and sticking to her cheeks and neck, she’s beautiful.Beautifulisn’t even a good enough word, I think. She’s stunning. I have to tear my eyes away, to force myself not to take her in. Her eyes, that mouth, her small breasts under the dark grey T-shirt she’s wearing?—
I look away, sharply, my jaw working as I feel my muscles tighten and my cock twitch. She’s frightened, and vulnerable, and young, and I’m as much of a beast as those men back in the warehouse if I letmyself feel desire for her, no matter how beautiful she is. I glance at her again, sitting there trembling in her T-shirt and cutoff shorts, and I take a slow breath, turning to face her.
“Why are we at a church?” she breathes, staring out the windshield, not looking at me.
“You need to come with me.” I undo my seatbelt. “We don’t have much time.”
She whips her head around, those green eyes wider than ever. “Forwhat? I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell me what’s going on!”
I let out a sharp, frustrated breath and get out of the car, walking around to her side and opening the door before she can lock herself in away from me. I reach for her, grabbing her waist to pull her out of the car and setting her down on the gravel between myself and the vehicle. I don’t let go of her upper arm—I know she’ll try to run if I do.
She tries to jerk away instantly. “What the fuck are you doing? Why are we here?”
The rain is still pelting down. I resist the urge to pick her up, throw her over my shoulder like a caveman, and carry her inside. It might be effective, but Father Martinez might take issue with that.
I lean close to her, and she backs up instantly, her back hitting the side of the car. I reach up, pushing a lock of rain-sodden hair out of my face as I glare down at her. “You can come with me, or I can pick you up and carry you inside. Your choice.”
She stares up at me, chest heaving. Her green eyes are dark in the dim light of the parking lot, and I see a smattering of freckles across her tanned nose. Her lips purse—Godher lips are fucking beautiful—and she shoves at my chest,hard.
It startles me just enough to give her an opening. She ducks under my arm, clearly about to sprint across the parking lot, and I catch her elbow just in time. It takes me all of a second to scoop her up into my arms, striding quickly toward the glowing lights of the church windows as she struggles and shoves against my chest.
“Put me down! Let me go—who the hell are you… put medown!”
I ignore her. There can be explanations later, time to talk about what’s happened, but it isn’t now.
The heavy wooden doors of the church creak as I push them open. Inside, the lights are on, and candles flicker in the dim light, casting dancing shadows on the walls. I shove the door closed behind us and put the girl down, still holding onto her elbow as we both stand dripping on the wooden floor.
“Father!” I call out, my voice echoing in the cavernous space of the church. There’s only silence and the sound of the rain beating down on the roof, so I shout again, my voice carrying. Next to me, I can feel the girl shaking, but she’s gone very still again. It feels as if time has slowed down around us, but I know it hasn’t.
A door toward the back of the church opens, and Father Martinez walks out.
He’s perhaps in his late forties or early fifties, dark hair streaked with grey, a handful of wrinkles on his kind and patient face. He pauses for a moment, sees me, and his mouth turns down slightly. “Damian. What are you doing here at this hour? And who is she?” His eyes narrow, and he walks toward us slowly, as if he has all the time in the world.
He might, perhaps, but I don’t. The girl jerks at my grasp again, but I hold her tight.
