Page 19 of Intimately Faithful

His default settings came factory made with him programmed to always put Aoife at the forefront.

She reached across the table with her free hand while she held a mobster’s daughter and clasped his fingers in gratitude.

He squeezed back, because he couldn’t help himself, as fire raced up his arm.

So it begins.

His addiction roared, and he opened the door to that flood of love all over again.

FIVE

“Lost love was just hiding.” – Aoife

Turns out, Danny did know someone who’d have a better idea as to what to do than he himself did.

One phone call gave him a meeting, now he just had to wait.

He wanted to keep informing the police as an option, as he’d told Aoife.

He was a law-abiding citizen now; he couldn’t just step over the law and think he could take on the mafia and live to tell the tale.

He was a realist, not a fucking moron and this wasn’t a Hollywood action movie where everyone got up at the end and walked off alive and well.

Nor did he have the kind of backing an organization such as the fearless mobsters would back down from. The Murphy’s held their small niche, but it was no match for the Russian mafia, dangerously established decades ago. That was asking to be killed and as much as he preached about the heavenly afterlife, he wasn’t ready just yet to find a new apartment on the other side.

“I have things I need to do today.”

“Priest things?” She asked standing at the sink looking like she’d lived in his house for a decade as she dried the cups and placed them back in the cupboard.

He swallowed a hard lump, turning from the sight to shrug into his jacket. If he went on looking he’d want to see more of her around his house and for now … for now there was more pressing shit to deal with.

“I’m a pastor, not catholic, remember? I need to visit a few sick parishioners, make sure they don’t need anything. Then I have a meeting with the mayor about landscaping funding for the grounds here before it starts to look like a jungle. There’s only so much I can rope the local teens into doing free labor. But after that I’m going to make a run to Target, so write me a list of everything you need. That means clothes for you and Misha too.”

“I won’t be needing anything for me,” she said, chin in the air. Pride staining her tone. Some color returned to her cheeks in the last hour.

Confession was good for the soul.

But the danger still loomed.

“Do you plan to wear the same pants over and over? Write the list, Aoife.”

She sighed. “I’ll pay you back.”

“No need.”

“But I will. I want to. I don’t want charity.”

She was proud, and stubborn as only Irish lasses could be, so he let it go.

With the list shoved in his back pocket thirty minutes later and Aoife holding the baby, trailing behind him, he made his way to the front door.

It was too domesticated. Too real. And his beating heart didn’t know what to make of it. The urge to kiss her goodbye at the door was screaming through his veins.

How fucking easy he fell back into that head space. How easy.

It was his churned stomach that made him snap. And Danny Murphy didn’t snap at anyone. Hardly ever and usually it was because someone tried to talk to him before his morning run. He tended to go before the sun was up to avoid the early birds, otherwise he found people liked to stop him in the street and talk his ear off.

Turning on a smiling Aoife and a baby with her big eyes gazing up at him, his heart lurched. “I’ll be back. Don’t go outside.” He growled and watched her ginger eyebrows fall over her eyes and her lips frown at the edges. Dammit. He turned around, ready to pull the door open and felt her hand on his arm. “Danny? Thank you. For everything. I won’t go anywhere. I’ll be right here when you get home.”

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