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“I wasn’t aware we had an appointment.” I stride over to the liquor cart and retrieve the Macallan whiskey. I refill the old man’s glass and then settle into one of the leather chairs. He remains standing, drinking, staring at the Rothko painting in deep shades of red dominating the far wall. I know he hates it. He thinks he hates it because it is devoid of people, but I think he hates it for the same reasons I love it. The deep reds remind him of violence he’s wielded through people like me to keep the peace. He likes to believe he’s above the fray, that he’s a holy man with an honorable mission, but the Church is nothing more than a vessel of power, and to hold power, you shed blood. Some of that red is from innocents.
He forces his eyes away from the painting to look over my shoulder. “There’s an issue with Santino. You’ll need to take care of it.”
I will myself to show no reaction. He wants me to take down Kane Santino and Santino’s gang? “What’s the issue?”
“He plans to kill someone who was under protection.”
“Plans to?”
“Our work isn’t cleaning up after people. It’s prevention.”
That’s debatable. “Whose protection?”
Bishop slams his glass down on the table. Thousand-dollar whisky sloshes over the sides. “You don’t need to know. The only thing for you to do is act. Take him out and make an example of him.”
“I’m not a machine, Bishop. You don’t get to point me in a direction and fire me off like a cannon. If you don’t feel comfortable sharing the details of why Kane Santino needs to be disciplined by the Church, I don’t feel comfortable executing your orders.”
The Bishop rears back, his face red and mottled. “How dare you question me!” His jawline quivers in indignation. “I’m the Bishop. I control here. You can have this all taken away in a heartbeat.”
I grind the back of my teeth together and strive for an even tone. “I’ve kept the peace in this territory for a long time. I know the players. Kane Santino is an important part of the balance. If we remove him, other factions who aren’t as scrupulous—”it’s ironic that I’m using this word for Santino. I know he’d laugh if he heard me—“would cause chaos, so before I turn this city upside down, I’d like to know what sin Santino committed—and murder is not sufficient. People are killed every day.” I tip my head toward the painting.
The Bishop’s nostrils flare. He doesn’t like his authority being questioned. “Fine. You want details? He stole a girl from her father. The father had planned on sending the girl to David Marks, but Santino plans to keep her, which violates the contract that Santino has to marry the Soritz girl.”
“Kane Santino wouldn’t marry that girl. She’s sleeping with a member of his team.” And why Santino hasn’t gotten rid of that team member, I don’t know. Seems like a dumb move, but I’m not about to interfere. If Santino has problems within his ranks, then he’ll have to mete out the discipline. “As for the girl, I don’t think the Church should be facilitating sending young women to a man named Butcher Marks who thinks Hannibal is an inspiration and once stated that true enlightenment is only seen through a dying person’s eyes.”
“He paid quite a bit of money for her.”
Of which the Bishop got a good cut, and if the goods aren’t delivered, he will have to return the money.
“I’ll talk with Santino. He still has the girl. I’ll see what can be done. It’s not like Marks bought the father.”
“Marks believes the girl has been sullied. He wanted a pure one. He said he paid for two girls, and one of them is missing.”
I grow still. Two girls?
“You’re to find the other girl, retrieve the one from Santino, punish him, and deliver both girls to Marks. After you’ve finished your duty, you can come and give me your confession.” He waves a hand at my bare neck. “You are obviously engaged in sinful behavior that will need to be sanctified.”
Silently, I get to my feet and show Bishop the door. Lars makes eye contact with me over the old man’s head. He’s heard everything and is wondering if we’re going to war. I signal back that we are but not the one that the Bishop thinks is going to take place.
CHAPTER14
ANGEL
I thinkI’m losing my mind. Because I swear the other side of my bed looks like someone had been sleeping there. I grab the pillow and smell it. I’m not crazy. It’s Bjornsson. Then again, I might be telling myself that so I feel better.
I haven’t seen the man in days. Why would he sneak into my bed? When he up and disappeared after what happened in the garden? Before that, I couldn't get the man to leave me alone, and now I can’t find him anywhere. And believe me, I’ve looked.
I go in search of him every day, pretending to explore the massive church or whatever you want to call this place, trying to find him without asking. No one stops me, but some doors are locked. A few don’t have handles at all to open them.
Annoyed by the pillow, I throw it across the room before I crawl out of bed. I use the bathroom to make myself halfway presentable. I’m not bothering to change out of my pajamas. The first few days, I changed my clothes a few times.
Boxes of clothes from my favorite store and others arrived. He’d remembered what I said. It warmed me at first. I’d found them after I came back from lunch to my room. The closet was filled to the brim. But after a few days, I figured there was no point.
People move around this place like ghosts. The clothes quickly became nothing more than that. Clothes. Not sure why I need them. I don’t go anywhere. Bjornsson isn’t even around for me to show them off to or tease.
It hurts that he hasn’t come around. Which is ridiculous on my part because I’d been the one to run from him. Now I’m pissed he’s not bothering me. I want to leave, but maybe that’s the plan. To slowly drive me insane so I’ll tell them everything I know about Laurel. I hope they have a Plan B because there’s no way in hell that’s happening. I need to find a way to escape, but I’m not sure that’s possible.
Now that I think about it, it might be time I start driving everyone around here insane. I ponder what I can do as I make my way toward the kitchen. I don’t want to annoy other people. I want to annoy Bjornsson.
