Page 36 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part 1

Cresting the landing on the dormitory floor, I watch as Raven forces Wesley into his room ahead. Tawny does the same for Zeke. My room is next in line, but Mercy has stopped behind me, first locking in Dominic. He goes without a backward glance.

When the last door slams and the key turns in the lock, it is just the Sinners and me.

Mercy’s soft yet firm body brushes my arm as she opens my door. It takes every ounce of willpower I own to avoid rubbing the point of contact, to soothe the riotous nerves. As she waits, boldly staring at me, I can’t help but feel I am on my knees. It is always like this around her. She is shorter than I am, but I feel small. No, not small. Perhaps humble. Good in a way I’m not sure I’ve ever known, except that one week in summer I spent fishing with Uncle Nico.

“In you go,” she intones.

I should turn and run. There is nothing but air between my back and the staircase.

Leave them behind, the devil whispers. Cut your losses. I’ll be your famiglia. I’ll keep you fed.

Hand slipping into my pocket, I clutch my rosary and thumb the beads. I stare back at the woman before me, at her flushed, dewy, and flawless skin. Untamed hair, wild and free. Baggy gym clothes hide more of her curvaceous body than usual, yet somehow, it still feels obscene. A tiny beauty mark sits so close to the corner crease of her lips that it disappears when she is upset … like now.

“Tonight, Padre,” she growls, gesturing to the doorway.

“Interrogate me first,” I demand, voice rougher than intended.

Her brows wing up, and something in her study of me, the cock of her round hips, brings heat to my cheeks.

“Why?”

I clear my throat. “Because⁠—”

A prickle up my spine urges me to turn moments before a rhythmic banging grows behind me—a thumping up the stairs. Hannah arrives first, and then Jasmine crests the landing with her suitcases in hand.

She glowers at me but asks Mercy, “Where are we bunking now?”

“You’re with me.” Mercy points at the door directly across the hall from us.

“Hannah, you’re with Leila.” Raven taps the door beside her with her boot.

“I know,” Hannah clips and strides past, ignoring me completely.

Tawny jogs to the staircase. “I’m going to chase down that pizza!”

Mercy reaches out as if about to grab Tawny, but Jasmine blocks her when she stomps to her room, suitcase dragging behind her. She opens the door. Stops. Turns and glares through my open doorway.

“We have to bunk,” shrieks. “And they get a room to themselves?”

“Right now, I don’t give a fuck.” Hannah pushes into her room. “I’m jonesing for a shower.”

“You can’t have a shower before me!” Jasmine cries. “I’m the one covered in blood and gore.”

Mercy stiffens. Narrows her eyes. “If it bothered you that much, why didn’t you wash on the jet?” She pauses. “Wait, you flew public dressed like that? How come Hannah is clean?”

“I was a little busy looking after three orphans to worry about changing!”

“The entire time?”

Hot, angry lances of fury spear my way. “Because of him!”

“Not him,” Mercy returns, ever so quietly. “Not specifically.”

But she is not defending me, I don’t think. She watches for a reaction and waits. Testing. Something in the exchange just now has unsettled Mercy. No one else seems to notice the shift in her opinion, but I do. I know when Mercy is upset, when she is happy, when she is sad. I know when she is dangerous versus when she is joking. I know when she is … needy. Just by looking at the tilt of her head, the tension in her body, the cock of her hip. By how visible that little beauty mark is at the corner of her lips.

Jasmine doesn’t take the bait. She huffs and drags her suitcase into their room, kicking the door shut. I face Mercy and find her eyes are already on me. She steps closer, consuming my space, and I’m forced to suck in a breath, but I taste her fresh, feminine scent. My insides clench. Ache.

I take a step back and repeat, “Interrogate me first.”