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She swallows. Opens her mouth to say something, but then clamps it shut with resolve. It’s dark up here on the headland, but not dark enough that I miss the suspicious sheen coating her blue eyes.
My heart clenches. “What’s wrong?” I drag her into my chest, sliding my hands under the blanket so I can feel more of her. Fuck, she’s shivering, even with all the extra padding. “Talk to me, Queenie. Do you want me to be mad?
“I don’t know what I want,” she grits, her hot breath seeping through my shirt. “None of it’s working.”
“What do you mean?”
“Spending all your money isn’t making me feel better, Rafe. I don’t care for any of your gifts, either. Fuck, when you stopped for gas last night, I took three-hundred dollars from your wallet and feltnothing.She tilts her chin to look up at me. “I put it back.”
“Jesus,” I mutter, rubbing her nape. “Really?”
She jerks her head toward my enormous face on the billboard. “I thought maybe revenge would be what I needed. I thought we’d come up here, and I’d see your phallic face in lights and I’d feel like all was right between us. But it’s not.”
I drop my forehead to hers, pain swelling inside me. “You don’t want money; you don’t want gifts. I’ve apologized a million times. How do I make this right, baby?”
She’s trembling. Fuckingtrembling.I want to crawl inside her and make it stop.
She sucks in a steadying breath and rests her cheek below my collar pin. The walls of my stomach tighten. I swear; if her answer to my question is, “Nothing,” then I’m ninety-nine percent sure I’ll tug the Zippo out of my pocket and burn the world down.
Instead, she curls her fingers into my shirt pocket and lets out a sigh big enough to melt her body into mine. “I need to know you’re not like the others.”
We stand there for a few minutes, my chin resting on her crown, her hot breaths skating up my neck. Despite the bitter chill, my skin burns hot and impulsive. I can’t fucking think through all the noise in my head. I hate that it’s my brother’s smug-ass tone that trickles through the chaos and brings me my answer.
I slide my forearm around her waist and gently pick her up.
“Come on, we’ve got another detour before dinner.”
Pennyripsherhandfrom mine and slowly backs out of the church doorway.
“If you think I’m going in there, you must be insane.”
I pin her with a look of lazy amusement. “If Gabe doesn’t get smote when he steps inside, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“God isn’t my concern. Ending up as the subject of a true crime documentary, on the other hand…” She glares at the black abyss behind me. “You go first and turn some lights on. I’ll wait here.”
There are two things I could point out at this moment. The first, is that there hasn’t been electricity in this joint for years. The second, is that it’s far more spooky standing outside in the graveyard alone than coming inside a dark church with me, even with my men watching on from the road.
Nevertheless, I head into the sacristy, blow the dust off some old votive candles, and scatter them along the altar. Penny’s gaze scorches my back as I light them with my Zippo. When a hazy orange glow eats away enough of the darkness, her reluctant footsteps echo down the aisle.
“Why are we here, Rafe?”
Her warmth brushes my back as I stare up at the Virgin Mary.
“My father owned this church.”
“I know. I grew up in Dip too, remember?”
“Did you also know he was a fraud?”
Penny huffs out an awkward laugh. “I suppose I’ve always found it suspicious that the head of the mafia was also a deacon. I figured it was a tax evasion thing.”
I smile. “It was partly a tax evasion thing, partly a blackmail thing.”
“What do you mean?”
I turn around and look down at her. She’s fucking adorable, bundled up in her blanket with nothing but her big eyes and a few strands of red hair showing.
“My father became a deacon because Roman Catholics love nothing more than a good confession.” I shift my gaze to the confessional in the corner. “He had dirt on everyone and their mama.”
