Page 55 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part 1

“Um. Right. I’m just going to … yep, leave.”

“But not the country,” Raven reminds.

He side-eyes me on the way past. “We’ll talk about those new prophecy lines later.”

I stop him, click my fingers at Tawny, and she hands me the papers. I hand them to Wes. “First, talk it over with Thea.”

I see it in his eyes that he knows what this really means. He’s one of us. We trust him. Decision made.

When he’s gone, I turn to the others. “Time for the next sacrificial lamb.”

Nineteen

Mercy

The instant I turn the key in Zeke’s door lock, he calls through it: “Come in, ladies. Don’t mind the mess.”

I stroll in with Raven at my flank and Tawny at the rear. Zeke is sprawled on his cot, boots up, hands folded behind his head, as if the mattress is a Texas hotel suite and not six inches of monastic-issue punishment. Despite his casual demeanor, the dark circles under his eyes and a crumpled, slept-in fan club T-shirt reveal he’s just as frazzled as Wesley was. I’m not surprised, really. His history with Leila goes back to their childhood.

A duffel bag by the desk is open, revealing a gun-cleaning kit. No gun.

Shit.

Zeke grins, flashing white teeth. “Morning, boss.”

I turn to the girls. “Did anyone bother to confiscate his weapons?”

Blank looks.

“His phone?”

“Um.” Tawny has the decency to look guilty. “I was … hungry.”

“We’re all hungry!” I snap. Groan. Shake my head.

This is going from bad to worse. Anyone would think we’re amateurs.

“Don’t feel bad,” Zeke drawls, “I have that effect on people.” He waggles his brows. “Especially the ladies.”

Raven cuts to the chase. “Drop the act, cowboy. What’s your angle?”

He stretches, cracking one shoulder, then the other. “Don’t got one. Unless you count Leila.” He grins. “She has a nice angle. One I take advantage of⁠—”

I hold up my palm, cutting him off. “We know.”

Tawny huffs. “And that’s … not an answer.”

He winks at her. “It’s the only answer I got, blondie.”

I cross to his desk and scan for notes, letters, a dirty magazine—anything to catch him off guard. Nothing. Just a stack of ammo clips and a dog-eared comic book. He won’t shoot us. He’s too afraid of what Leila will do if he does. The gun is probably tucked away somewhere because it’s his baby, and he’s terrified I’ll confiscate it.

Zeke and Wesley aren’t the main concern in Team Saint, but we still need to do our due diligence.

“Let’s get serious.” I perch on his desk, arms crossed. “Tell us something the Vatican’s hiding. Some secret off-book operation, a honeypot, a murder list.”

He whistles, low. “You want gossip, you’re askin’ the wrong guy. Wesley’s your bookworm. I’m just firepower.” He flicks his gaze to Tawny. “You want to know about bullets, I’m your man.”

Tawny, bless her, tries to look fierce. “You’re really not scared? You do get we’re here to interrogate you, not ask for your autograph?”