Page 13 of Property of Quake

When I step into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind me, the uneasy feeling remains. Grief is one thing, and Melissa is experiencing something more. She’s haunted in a way I haven’t witnessed since… Ryan.

I make my way to the chapel, knowing prayer is the only thing that’ll help clear my thoughts. Sunlight filters through the stained glass windows, throwing beautiful color across the polished floor. I’m halfway to my destination when Sister Beatrice steps out of a room.

“Sister Emiliani,” she greets. “I was just coming to look for you.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, of course. I’m actually hoping you’ll join me in the office.”

My stomach flips. I’ve come a long way from the little girl who was left here, but there are times when fear becomes the dominating emotion. “The office?”

Sister Beatrice smiles as she tilts her head like she knows what’s going on in my head, but she doesn’t acknowledge it. “One of our donors showed up unexpectedly. You’ve been working diligently to coordinate the children’s programs, so I thought it would be beneficial for you to meet him.”

My fear melts away. “I’d love to.”

We walk in silence to the office at the front of the building. Sister Beatrice opens the door, motioning for me to go in ahead of her. As soon as I step across the threshold, my eyes are immediately drawn to the man standing inside.

He’s tall, much taller than the men I’m used to at approximately six-foot-four. He’s dressed in jeans, a black long-sleeved shirt, and a black leather vest. Confidence pours off of him, the kind that fills the room with zero effort.

“Sister Beatrice,” he greets. “I’m sorry to show up unannounced.”

“No need to apologize, Mr. Jeffries,” she says.

He smirks. “It’s Quake, Sister.”

The name is odd, but I don’t have a chance to give it much thought before introductions begin.

“Sister, this is… Quake.” I stifle a smile at her discomfort. “Quake, this is Sister Emiliani. She grew up here and now helps manage several of our outreach efforts and children’s programs. And Quake,” she says, glancing back to me. “He’s been a generous donor and supporter of Sacred Haven for several years.”

Quake’s eyes cut to mine, assessing. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says.

“You, as well. And thank you for your support.”

“No need to thank me,” he says, extending his hand.

Without thinking, I settle my hand in his, and the moment we touch, electricity shoots through my body. It’s not painful or frightening. It’s just… unexpected.

My breath catches as his expression changes, telling me he felt it too. The handshake lasts a beat longer than appropriate, and then I remember who I am and where we are.

I yank my hand back, clasping it with my other one and clearing my throat.

“So, what brings you here today?”

3

QUAKE

The office feels different today.

I’ve been coming to Sacred Haven for years. At first, my visits stemmed from a drive I’ve carried since I was a kid. Over time, my reasons evolved, became deeper, and were driven by an intense belief that I had to balance the scales between good and evil, or at least do my part. It also doesn’t hurt that the club is heavily involved in giving back to the community. Hell, our civic engagement is how Whiz met Zoey.

Normally, walking through the front door is familiar, standing in this space is part of a routine I’ve developed over the years. Coming here has always brought me a level of comfort that nothing else has. But today?

Today, I’m aware of more than the space, more than my motives, routine, and comfort. And it has everything to do with the nun who sent a jolt of lightning through my system with a simple handshake.

Motherfucker.

“Mr. Jeffries?”