Page 23 of Kept

The priest just nods sagely. “It usually is.”

“Are priests supposed to say that?” I try to square the image of this cheerful, witty man with the stuffy, scary ones from my childhood.

He shrugs. “I’m not a normal priest.” The man walks to the opposite counter and pulls out a notepad and pen from a drawer. “Before I forget, look through the fridge and see if there is anything you need.”

“Need?”

“Yes.”

“Like… to eat?”

“Or drink.”

I look from the notepad in his hand, to him, and back.

“Okay, look,” I set my cup down, harder than I meant to. Some of the coffee splashes out of the cup and onto the clean white marble of the island. “We’ve just about reached the end of my weird shit-o-meter. What the fuck is going on?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why am I here?” I can’t decide if I’m angry or scared. Probably both.

“He didn’t say.”

I throw my hands up in frustration and walk back into the living room and up to the giant windows that wrap around the space. I thump my forehead on the cool glass.

I hear footsteps behind me.

“I’ll answer what I can, but I won’t guess.”

Out of the corner of my eye I see him sit down on the far end of the sofa.

I turn, my arms crossed over my chest. “Is he going to kill me?”

The priest doesn’t blink, or hesitate. “No.”

I scoff. “You seem pretty certain of that. Inside information?” I point towards the sky.

He gives me another disarming smile. “No. But I know my brother.”

Great. Brotherly loyalty intact. “Sure, fine, fantastic.” I flinch at my sarcastic commentary. “I’m sorry, Father. You’ve been very nice. I’m just—I’m just scared.” I walk back through the apartment and to the bedroom I woke up in.

CHAPTER 13

Vincent

Jesus Christ, all I planned on doing was talking to her. But then I walked in and saw her fucking naked with that gorgeous ass in the air, and I lost all rational thought. It probably followed all of my blood—straight to my dick.

I have never been so pissed at a phone in my goddamned life. If it had been anyone other than Marco calling, I would have broken the fucking thing and buried my face between her thighs instead.

“Jesus, what pissed you off?” Marco says in lieu of a greeting when I walk into the dockside warehouse.

“You do realize I’m the fucking boss, right?”

He whistles and then gives a little bow. “Apologies, Don De Luca.” We’re alone, save for the unfortunate fellow tied to the chair, but if he were anyone other than my brother, I’d be seriously tempted to shoot him.

Marco walks up to the man, the same bouncer we planned on chatting with last night, albeit slightly worse for wear. He’s lost a bit of blood, and apparently a finger. Marco taps his cheeks.

“Wake up, sweetheart, you have a visitor.”

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