Unlikely, because he dismissed me without losing another word. But he definitely sensed that something wasn’t right.
Thank God for seminary and the opportunity to escape Father Cruz, and even more, Harley, for the rest of the day. At least physically. My brain on the other hand . . . The thought that Harley had probably watched me swimming laps in Serenity Lake this morning, that she’d seen me in my boxers, sat in my gut like a smoldering coal. And the kiss. Man, the kiss.
Over and over I tried to shake the thoughts, but no matter how hard I begged God to make them stop, they kept mercilessly playing on repeat like a movie that couldn’t be stopped.
When seminary was over for the day, I almost dreaded to go back to Saint James. I was about to turn onto the road winding up the mountain when a motorcycle overtook me, the rider gesturing for me to follow. Rome. He took the dirt path leading through the jungle to Silent Wharf, and I tailed him until we emerged at the abandoned harbor. The sound of waves lapping concrete welcomed me when I got out of the F-150, the smell of old gasoline and rotten fish heavy in the air. It was almost dark, a scatter of stars already visible.
“How is she?” Rome placed the helmet on his Yamaha and sauntered over to me.
“Good.” I scanned the run-down concrete buildings along the shore and the barely floating boats. “What are we doing here?”
“Got new intel.”
“That was fast.”
“No sleep for the wicked.” Rome gave me a jaded smirk, then sobered. “Harley was right, two of our family were involved with her ex—behind our back.” He stalked to the mouth of the concrete pier, and I followed. “They’ll never do that again.”
The way he said it left no doubt about what he’d done. The muscles in my shoulders tensed. Good thing he was on my side. “What about Fuller?”
“Dropped off the face of the earth. But don’t worry. I’ll find that son of a—” He coughed. “Sorry, Brother.”
I dismissed his apology with a shake of my head. “What are we doing here?”
We’d reached the end of the pier, and Rome unearthed his phone. Turned on the flashlight. “See this?” He pointed at small, dark spots at the edge of the pier. Dried Blood.
My gut convulsed. The idea that someone had been killed here in cold blood . . . “I think that’s a case for law enforcement.”
“Not yet.” Rome turned off the flashlight. “Harley did the right thing. Fuller is very popular in the DRPD. Nobody would believe her allegations. While I have a trustworthy contact in the DRPD, there’s nothing he can do without solid proof.”
“So you’re saying we need to find said proof?”
“Look at that, the monk has a brain.”
“He does, and the same brain tells him a monk doesn’t get tangled in the Mafia’s affairs or play Nancy Drew.”
“Not even for Harley’s sake?” When I didn’t say anything, the right corner of Rome’s mouth pulled into a smirk. “Man, you really have the hots for her, don’t you?”
I stared out at the dark ocean, feeling the urge to dive in. Swimming helped me to process and rearrange my thoughts. When something came between me and my laps, I couldn’t focus all day.
“I don’t hear you denying it,” Rome said.
No, I couldn’t deny my feelings for Harley because then I’d have to lie. Which I never did. But neither was I willing to admit my attraction to her out loud. Some things were better left unsaid.
“Look, man.” Rome’s tone was now void of any amusement. “I’m not gonna tell you guys what to do and what not, but Harley’s been used enough by men. I don’t wanna say she’s naïve, but she believes in the good in people, which led to exploitation on her account in the past. If you turn out to be one of those dimwits, you’re gonna have to report back to me.”
I stared at the guy. On one hand I was grateful Harley had people who cared about her, on the other I was offended that he thought I was the kind of man who’d take advantage of a woman. “I won’t do anything with or to her.”
“I’m not saying you would. Just informing you of the consequences.”
Right. “Do you have a problem with me personally, or is it because I’m from a monastic community?” I wasn’t usually one for confrontation, but if Rome wanted me to work with him, I needed to know what the issue was.
He glowered at me. I obviously hit a sore spot.
There was something my brain tried to get ahold of, but cou—
The revelation hit me like a fist to the gut.“I know all about you guys at Saint James.”The scandal. He was about the right age.
“You were one of the boys at Saint James.” My conclusion emerged breathless and strained, like I’d actually been punched.
