I didn’t know the guy well enough to judge whether he’d play with his career for a better paycheck. But money blinded a lot of people. “How many MANPADS are we talking?”
“Twelve. Two hundred grenades, and all sorts of firearms.”
“And where did they go?” Harley asked. “It’s not like he can hide that stuff in his garage.”
“I’m guessing some kind of storage.”
Made sense. “What now?”
Rome jutted his chin at me. “You keep protecting her, I’ll keep searching. My men are watching all airfields and ports.”
Chest tightening, I slid a glance at Harley. That meant she would stay even longer. More possibilities to mess up.
Funny how I’d preached to her about repenting of our sins and then letting them go, yet I still hadn’t talked to Father Cruz. Sure, I’d confessed everything to God, but that wasn’t enough. Father Cruz needed to know and then decide the consequences. If I’d get excommunicated, or worse, expelled. If Matt came forward, the latter was more likely. I still couldn’t believe he’d tried to kiss me.
Lord, I . . .Had no right to beg for His mercy. This one was on me. I’d messed up—bad—and had to accept whatever the consequences would be.
Rome cleared his throat, his gaze bouncing between me and Harley. “Holy crap, you—”
“Don’t.” Moonlight glinted in Harley’s glower. “Whatever is on your mind, keep it there.”
Rome lifted his hands in a placating gesture. “Not saying anything.”
How had he figured it out? Did we look that guilty? If he could tell at a glance, so could anyone in the monastic community.
My gut contracted. I’d really,reallyscrewed up.
“A’ight, I’ll keep you guys posted.” Rome straddled his bike and donned the helmet. “Harley, you’re not coming back to work until this is cleared up. And you kids keep your pants on.” He looked at me. “Or your habit down.”
I gritted my teeth. The fact that the son of a Mafia don could call me out on my sins showed how far I’d fallen. The messed up thing was, that, despite the guilt eating me alive, I couldn’t stop thinking about last night. Earlier today I’d read in Judges how Gideon had held the people of Sukkoth accountable by tearing their flesh with desert thorns and briars. Maybe that’s the kind of punishment I needed—a good whipping with desert thorns and briars. Because obviously repenting did nothing.
“You’re one to talk.” Harley smacked Rome’s helmet with her flat hand.
He caught her wrist and pulled her close. The harshness in his move almost had me step in, but Harley laughed. He said something to her I couldn’t hear, then let her go.
After Rome had disappeared down the road, I escorted Harley back to the guesthouse. We stopped at the door, her inside, me outside.
“Goodnight, Harley.” I tried to keep as much distance between us as possible. My body was already heating up simply because we were alone. The only sound came from an army of crickets surrounding us. Same setup as last night. Dangerous.
“Goodnight, Kingsley.”
As if rooted to the ground, neither of us moved. For the longest moment, we just stared at each other in the dim light of the kerosene lamp Harley had set down next to the door.
I was the one who broke the spell. But instead of leaving, I took two steps forward, shoved Harley into the hallway, and kicked the door shut behind us. The all-consuming need she had talked about this afternoon seized me, mercilessly silencing all sirens blaring somewhere in the back of my head. The same thing had to be happening to her, because she made no move to stop us either.
I used my body to back her against the stone wall and captured her lips with mine. She tasted like passion and love and . . . temptation.You need to . . . stop, man. Don’t go . . . go there again . . .
The heavy fog of desire shrouding my mind thickened again, shutting up my inner voice for good. The feeling of Harley’s curves under my touch, her smell and taste, had me completely at her mercy.
My breath came heavy when I pulled back just a little. “I love you, Harley Raines,” I whispered the words born in the depths of my soul.
I heard her suck in a breath, but couldn’t make out much past my leaden eyelids. Didn’t matter if she rejected me for it, or if she didn’t say the words back, but I needed her to know how I felt about her. How much she meant to me.
Her hand cupped my jaw and she stroked my beard. “I love you, too, Kingsley Grady.”
Chapter 19
Harley
