I AM A DEPRAVED MAN, AND I FEAR THERE IS NO CURE.
And Amaya Paquette is a woman who has far more wickedness in her than the average person. She tempts and torments and teases, and then she smiles and makes me forget why I’m supposed to stay away.
Now here she is in my church, taunting me with more. Granted, I came looking for her, knowing the school is rehearsing in the youth center down the hall.
But when we barely miss being caught by someone, reality crashes back in.
I take another giant step back, anxiety stringing up my nerves like Christmas lights, wrapping around me so tight my stomach hurts.
This obsession will end, and we can both move on one way or another. I’ve already known for quite some time that my monster can’t kill her— he’s as obsessed as I am. But the other idea I had takes root fully.
I’ll request that Bishop Lamont transfer me somewhere else. And if he argues, then maybe I’ll figure out somewhere else to go, something else to do. They never needed me here anyway. Not really.
Corruption is rife in the church. Parker’s moneymaking choices pour from Bishop Lamont’s mouth, and I want no part of it.
Besides, if a simple woman can bewitch me so easily, maybe I need more internal reflection than I realized. As if stalking the streets and murdering a man out of jealousy wasn’t reason enough.
The acts may sate the monster, but they leave the man inside bloody and torn.
I don’t regret it though. Would do it a thousand times over again if given the chance. Although I am surprised they haven’t found his body yet, and I wonder if he’s still rotting away in the dumpster behind her work.
The work that she wasn’t at last night when I went to watch her.
After realizing I wouldn’t find her, I forced myself to head back home instead of her house, because I was terrified she’d be there inviting me in. I had set a boundary of us becoming friends, and I knew our secret meetings in the window would blast it apart to bits.
Clearly, being around her at all does the same.
Florence walks closer and she glances between us, her eyes softening when she sees me.
“Father Cade.” She reaches out to grip my arm.
I paste a smile on my face and nod my hello.
“Amaya.” Her smile drops. “Sad to hear I was taken off your defense.”
My spine straightens.
Defense?
Amaya laughs. “I’m sure you’re devastated.”
Florence’s gaze drops down to Amaya’s hands, and mine follows, my breath whooshing from my chest when I see the giant diamond glinting from her finger.
A claim.
From someone who isn’t me.
I knew it was happening, but this makes it feel more real.
Florence smirks. “I see you’ve grown resourceful. Who’s the unfortunate guy?”
Amaya’s chin lifts, a bit of haughtiness coming into her features, like she’s happy to be able to rub this in Florence’s face.
Like she’s proud to be Parker’s.
Something burns in my middle as I see the change.
I hate that it’s another man giving her that confidence. It makes me insane with the need to hunt down Parker and beat him to death.
“Oh, didn’t you know?” Amaya says sweetly, a sugary sweet grin taking over her face. “I’m marrying Parker.”
Florence’s mouth pops open, her eyes widening in alarm. “My Parker?”
I cock my head. Interesting.
Amaya’s eyes sparkle. “The one and only. I know you had a thing for him once upon a time, so no hard feelings, I hope.”
If I have to listen to either of them swoon over Parker for another minute, I’ll lose my mind.
“And why are you here, Mrs. Gammond?” I ask.
“Helping with rehearsal.” She steps closer. “It’s so nice of you to let the kids practice here, Father. You’re breathing life back into this parish, and it’s amazing to see.”
I hum my approval, her words petting me with their praise. It’s all bullshit though. I haven’t done a thing other than stalk Amaya and beat myself for the sin.
She side-eyes Amaya. “Although I wish we’d be more… selective about who we let in the front doors.”
Amaya blinks at her, then turns and walks away without another word.
Everything in me wants to follow, but something Florence said keeps me in place.
Taken off Amaya’s defense.
Smiling, I place my hand on the small of Florence’s back, ushering her into the empty room. “Mrs. Gammond, if I can have a word?”
She follows me effortlessly. “Of course, Father.”
The moment we’re in the room, I close the door and spin around to face her. “What did you mean about defense?”
Florence bites her lip and looks uncomfortable, shifting the weight on her feet. “I really can’t say.”
I chuckle, shaking my head slightly and changing my tactic. “Forgive me, I just…if there’s something going on in Festivalé, something I need to be aware of with regard to who I let in our church…around our children, I’d like to know.”
“If anyone knows I told you, I could lose my job.”
“Consider this a confession.” I lean in close, frowning. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
She nods slowly. “Amaya’s been instructed not to leave the state.”
My brows shoot up, surprise hitting me square in the chest.
“Why?”
“Because she murdered Andrew Gleeson.”
The statement shocks me, and I physically stumble back. “What?”
She nods. “Well, allegedly. She’s not really a suspect, but it’s only a matter of time. I was the defense put on her case, but she clearly didn’t like that much.”
Florence chuckles and I cannot, for the life of me, figure out how anything about this is humorous.
Memories of the past few days flash like a highlight reel. The way I was consumed with rage and killed Andrew with my bare hands, then tossed him in that dumpster where he belongs.
How a few nights later, Amaya showed up on my doorstep in the middle of the night, eyes red-rimmed and teary, and how instead of letting her speak, I gave in to my weakness and pinned her to the wall.
How the next day, she was engaged.
Regret swims through my veins like poison.
She came to me first.
And I turned her away.
