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14

It wasthe early morning hours when Rinaldo finally pulled up on the airstrip. The black jet was already idling, waiting for its human cargo—living and unliving—to board. He glanced at the young woman next to him.

Pity. That was what he felt for her. He saw a blazingly intelligent woman who had been treated very badly by life. She had all the appearance of a woman who was standing on the edge of a cliff. And here he was making it worse, nudging her closer to the edge. He pitied her, but he also pitied himself a bit for having a role in the nonsense.

He missed the jobs where he went in and shot some people, broke a curse, and got to walk out with his head held high. Jobs where things were simple. He shook his head and fought the urge to scoff. Now he was lying to himself.

Things had never been simple. He had just been too young and too stupid to see the world properly. He wished it had been by his own doing that he learned the hard way that life wasn’t binary. But no, like all the hard lessons he had ever been taught, it usually came like a punch to the face.

Turning off the rented BMW, he jerked his head toward the door. “Come on, buttercup. Time to go.”

Marguerite eyed the plane doubtfully. “I still don’t know about this. How can I trust you?”

“We can talk about this later.”

“And what if I say no?” Her green eyes flashed in defiance. “You going to drag me on there?”

His jaw ticked, and with a long sigh, he leaned back on the upholstery. The jet would have to wait another minute. “I’m not going to drag you onto the plane, Maggie.”

“How do I know that Harry wasn’t right, and that you’re taking me to the Vatican to shove me in a cage?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, grunting in pain as he pressed the sore tendons. Shutting his eyes, he sighed. “You don’t.”

“What?”

“I’m trying to be honest with you here, kiddo. I’m not a Bishop. I’m a foot soldier. They send me out to knock heads together and maybe, if I’m lucky, perform an exorcism or two. I don’t know either.”

Maggie was silent for a long moment. When she responded, her voice had lost the angry edge. “I’m sorry. I’m being a bitch.”

“Nope, I drugged you up. You’re not being a bitch.” He leaned back against the chair and stared out the windshield. “All right. Say the word, and I’ll drive away and take you somewhere else. Or you can get on that plane.”

“What do you mean?”

With a sigh, he put the keys back in the ignition but didn’t turn the engine over yet. “I know that at the Vatican are clues to who you are—and what you are. I know that at the Vatican is proof of why you should be on our side against Raithe. What I don’t know, Maggie, is if you’ll be safe. From us or anyone else. But what I can promise you is this—I’ll do everything I can to help you.”

“Why would you help me? You don’t know me.”

“But I know people like you. Time to go. With or without you. Here, you can take the car.” He took the keys back out of the ignition and dropped them in her palms. “I’ll make sure it’s paid for. Or you can come with me. Your call.” And with that, he climbed out of the vehicle. Grabbing his suitcase out of the trunk, he strolled toward the plane.

He heard the car door open and shut. He waited to hear the driver’s side door open and shut as well. But instead, he heard the sound of sneakers on the sidewalk as she jogged up beside him. “What do you mean, people like me?”

“Complicated people.” He smirked half-heartedly, teasing her. As they approached the plane, he looked up the boarding stairs that had been folded out for them. The interior of the plane was glowing brightly in the darkness. His sad attempt at a smile bloomed at who he saw. “Ally-girl. Sorry we’re late. She’s a feisty one, and she was starving.”

Warm laughter rang out in reply from the blonde woman at the top. “Could have gotten it to go. You were just dragging your feet again. You know you’re going to get an earful when Gabriel hears about this. Oh, hello! You must be Marguerite. Come on up, hon.” Taking the wheels of her wheelchair, Ally backed up from the door and went farther into the plane, as if assuming Maggie would be right behind her.

Rinaldo smiled at the nervous young woman beside him and gestured to the stairs. “Go on.”

With a sigh, and a mutter of “this is stupid” under her breath, Maggie climbed the stairs into the jet. Her eyes instantly went wide as she took in the expensive private plane.

“Little bit better than coach, eh?” He chuckled as he followed her up. The staff instantly went to work preparing the plane for takeoff.

Maggie looked down at the alcoholic beverage a staff member had already put in her hand. She blinked. “Little bit.”

“Think of it like a vacation, kid.”

She shot him a look but, shaking her head, sighed and walked farther into the plane. But not until after she took a sip of the drink in her hand. A pretty big drink.

Grinning, he decided that all things considered, he rather liked her. He wondered how problematic that was going to become. Because if his years in the field had ever taught him anything, it was that things were never simple—and complicated things always came with trouble.

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