Page 97 of Vicious Behaviors
“Yes. But it’s different for you. I made a vow to abstain from violence… and I broke it. I broke that vow, along with many others, just to keep you. It was selfish. It was cruel. And now I’m drowning in the consequences of those choices.”
“Baby, you’re really starting to freak me out,” Enzo says, frowning deeply. “If you’re laying the groundwork to break up with me, then forget about it. You’re fucking mine, remember?”
“I am yours,” Alejandro whispers, brushing a hand along Enzo’s cheek. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not struggling with having blood on my hands again.”
“McDonagh fucking deserved it. That bastard almost killed you,” Enzo growls, gripping Alejandro’s hand and pressing it to his cheek, only lifting it to kiss the inside of his wrist.
“No one deserves to die because of my mistakes, Enzo.”
“Weare not a mistake, Alejandro! Our love is not a mistake.”
Alejandro stares into his eyes, visibly shaken by the pain in Enzo’s voice. Then he leans in and kisses him, soft, deep, aching.
When their hands begin to tug at each other’s clothes, I take it as my cue to leave. I turn away, slipping silently out of the chapel, giving them back their privacy.
My heart pounds in my chest as I try to make sense of what I just overheard. Perhaps Marcello didn’t kill Father McDonagh after all. Maybe his killer was someone far closer to the priest than I thought. The weight of doubt pressing on my chest lifts, if only slightly.
I rush to my car, hands trembling as I reach for the burner phone stashed in the glove compartment. It rings twice before Haynes picks up.
“You have news?” he says, skipping any kind of civilized greeting.
“Better. I might have a lead. Get me everything the Bureau has on Father Alejandro Torres.”
“Why?” Haynes asks, skepticism thick in his tone.
“Because he just might be the killer we’ve been looking for.”
Chapter 21
Marcello
My tense muscles loosen the second I spot Izzie stepping into the gym. The place hums with the clank of weights and the rhythmic thud of gloves hitting heavy bags, but she’s the only thing I see. I cut across the room before she gets too far, her warm, honey-gold gaze softening when she notices me walking toward her.
“Hi,” she says with a smile, her fingers curling around the strap of her gym bag.
Not satisfied with her simple greeting, I slide the handle off her shoulder, let the duffel drop to the floor with a heavy thud, and cradle her face in my palms.
“Not good enough,” I murmur before pressing my lips to hers and letting the peace her kiss always brings wash over me.
I’ve lived my whole life in the dark. Wanting her is the first time I’ve ever craved the light.
When I force myself to pull back from our kiss, Izzie’s eyes are half-mast, her cheeks flushed, and her lips deliciously swollen.
“Did you just hard-launch our relationship?” she asks, glancing around at the gym full of gawkers who have clearly stopped mid-rep to watch.
“I have no idea what that means,” I reply, slinging her bag over my shoulder.
“Of course you don’t.” She giggles, leaning into my chest to hide her blushing cheeks from the attentive audience around us.
I kiss the crown of her head, then gently tip her chin up with my finger. “How was class?” I ask, since she’s been buzzing all week about teaching her first self-defense session at Sacred Heart.
“It was great,” she says, beaming. “I got the job.”
“You sound surprised,” I tease, brushing my knuckles along her cheek.
“I kind of am. Sister Margaretta runs a tight ship, and I wasn’t sure she’d want me on board.”
While Izzie seems to have had her doubts, I never did. She’s a perfectionist, pouring herself fully into everything she does. I knew she would make an impression on Mother Superior as well as the girls she was teaching. She sure as fuck has made an impression on me.
