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I never would have guessed that Ezra was religious or attached to this small Catholic church in San Diego. Perhaps he was giving a confession or whatever. Wasn’t that what Catholics did?
“Hello there, can I help you?”
I jumped at the question and the sudden appearance of a man walking across the lawn toward me from a side door.
“Uh . . . no, I’m waiting for someone,” I said, straightening the hem of my shirt. It had been riding up my stomach.
“Aren’t we all,” he replied with a warm, ironic smile.
“Right.” I looked over to the doorway then back to Ezra’s motorcycle, unsure which direction to retreat to.
The man was unbothered by my darting eyes. He was dressed in all-black clerical clothing. The white collar around his neck marked him as a priest, but the line of sweat disappearing behind it made my throat tighten.
“Are you new to the church?” he asked.
“Yes, but I’m visiting with a friend.”
He looked around, and his eyes snagged on the motorcycle before meeting my gaze again. “You must be very good friends if you’ve come to church with them.”
I nodded, wishing that Ezra would come outside and save me from explaining to this man of God that I was a nonbeliever.
“It takes a special connection to embrace each other’s faith,” he continued and made another short step closer. “I’ve lost many friends in my path to God. I commend you for your bravery.”
“I’m just here for moral support.” My comment was more of an invitation for him to leave, but I had a feeling he hadn’t accepted it.
“Moral support,” he repeated, dragging the words over his tongue and through his teeth. “Wonderful.”
“Thanks.” I made to take a step around him, but he shifted into my path.
“If you were to join us for worship, I could guarantee it would open your eyes to great truths.”
I took a step back. His casual tone was gone, and the severity in his eyes dug down into my gut.
“Truths about God?” I asked, clarifying that he was still only trying to shove his religion down my throat and not a gag.
“There are many fallacies about the temptations of others. Sometimes, it takes the support of strangers to rid yourself of those indulgences. The holy always overpower the wicked.”
Was he slut-shaming me in a church courtyard?
I internally screamed harder for Ezra. For him to walk down the steps and whisk me away to wickedly overpower me in our hotel room, far away from this creep.
“Thank you for the invitation,” I said, “but I think I should go find my friend.”
“All are welcome. Truth can penetrate even the darkest souls.”
With that unnerving statement and a perk of his brow, he turned around and disappeared around the corner, leaving me frozen in place. My stomach hollowed and I had the distinct impulse to run—fast and far. If only I could get my feet to move.
“Pru.” Ezra’s voice sounded dangerous as he emerged from the church moments too late and crossed the short distance to me.
His patch-covered jacket engulfed my vision and pushed away the blinding white gleam of the church walls. When his hands clamped around my arms and pulled me even closer, I felt the harsh anger coming from him, but it didn’t feel directed toward me.
“I told you to stay by the bike.” He looked around us, and the hardness of a man ready to bring death down on someone’s head was heavy in his eyes. “Where did he go?”
“Wha—where did who go?” My brows furrowed as I looked up at him.
“The priest. Where did that weasel skulk off to?” He bent his head to meet my confused gaze, and I pointed in the vague direction that the man had gone. Ezra whipped his head around to look then turned back to me. “We should go.”
“But—”
