from 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.”
Penny follows my eye line and cocks her head. “That’s quite smart actually,” she admits.
Of course she’d think that, the fucking little grifter. “Come.” I take her hand and pull her toward the booth. With the light from my cell phone, I illuminate the narrow eaves behind it, making the cobwebs glisten like strands of glitter. “My brothers and I would hide behind here and listen to all the locals confessing their sins.”
“Ah, so you’ve always been a nosy shit,” she snaps, yanking her hand out of mine. Behind us, the door groans in the wind, and she quickly clings onto me again.
“We wouldn’t just listen, Queenie. Our father would get us to decide on the worst sins we’d heard through the week, and then…” I chew on the inside of my lip. Sure, Penny is no saint, but I still hate being so fucking crude with her. “Eliminate them.”
Her eyes pierce through the shadows. “What?”
“We’d kill the worst sinners.” I shrug, recalling the fond memories of my childhood. “The ones who’d admit to raping their wives when they’d come home too drunk from the bar. Ones who hit cyclists on Grim Reaper road driving home after a night shift and left them for dead.”
Penny takes a deep breath, processing my words. “So, you were basically choir-boy vigilantes?”
I can’t help but laugh. “More like Viscontis-in-training. Violence is a way of life for my family, and I guess my father wanted us to start early.”
“Did you hate it?”
I glance at her. “No. Truth is, we loved it—me more than my brothers. It started my fondness for games, I suppose.”
She tightens the blanket around herself, glaring at the confessional like it’ll suddenly come to life and tell her all the secrets spilled within its oak walls. “You loved it so much you started the hotline.”
“Yes. After our father died and my brothers and I scattered to different corners of the earth, I decided to bring the game back on a more…professional level. It gave us a reason to stay close. Now it’s bigger than Dip.” I reach out and stroke her cheek with my knuckle. “Bigger than you, Queenie.”
Her gaze touches mine, dancing with confusion. “You choose the worst confession from the hotline, hunt them down and kill them?”
“Mm. Once a month.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Shh, he’ll hear you.”
She doesn’t laugh at my joke. Instead, she studies me like she’s seeing me for the first time. “Why are you telling me this?”
Angelo’s words bounce between my ears. Prove to her that you’re not the massive cock you’ve made yourself out to be.
“Because I need you to know I didn’t set up the hotline because I’m some weirdo that gets off on listening to people confess their sins.” I pause. “Sure, some of them are juicy, but being nosy was never my end game. We choose the dregs of society, and we kill them. Of course, I’m not some sort of savior, and yes, it’s ironic because killing them also makes me a bad person, but there’s no denying the world is a better place without them.” I take a deep breath. “You weren’t using the hotline for its intended purpose. And, sure, when I first heard you call, I was thinking of all the petty ways I could fuck with you—”
“The tuna subs,” she says dryly. “Ripping the page out of my For Dummies book.”
I flash her a sheepish grin. “You telling me wouldn’t have done the same if it was the other way around?” Only a beat passes, but it’s enough to know the galvanized wall around her heart has fissured. I move closer to her, capitalizing on the progress. “There was never a malicious intent. The novelty of fucking with you wore off so quickly, baby. Soon, I just became obsessed with hearing you talk. About anything and everything—I didn’t care. As long as your voice was in my ear, I was happy.”
There’s a thunderous silence between us, set to the backdrop of the wind rattling the boarded windows. When she finally speaks, it’s nothing by a tiny, one-worded question. A whisper in the dust-filled air.
“Why?”
I run my thumb over her pillowy lip. The truth slides from my mouth like warmed butter. “Because I love you.”
She stares at me for a few more moments, her expression stiff and unreadable. My heart drops as she suddenly pulls away and walks around the confessional, running a finger over the intricate woodwork and latticed doors.
With a quick glance back at me, she dips inside the penitent compartment and shuts the door behind her. Without questioning it, I slide into the other compartment and shut the door, plunging us into darkness.
Penny’s slow, heavy breaths seep through the latticed opening that divides us.
“Do you really love me?” she whispers.
I press my temple against the iron grate. “Yes.”
There’s a pause. “That night in the phone booth, you told me you’d never been in love before. If you’ve never felt it, how do you know?”
I close my eyes. I’ve got too many words and not enough ways to order them. How do I know? Because saying it aloud is as easy as breathing. Because even the mention of her name lights my skin on fire. Because she’s my first thought in the morning, and my last at night.
Because I just. Fucking. Know.
I swallow. “Because even though I’m unlucky with you, I feel even unluckier without you.”
Her breathing grows denser, filling the hollows in my chest. I suddenly remember why I brought her here: I need to know you’re not like the others.
As her body trembled against mine on the headland, I realized all the money and the gifts and the fancy meals would never bring her reassurance. Only my actions and my words will. She’s damaged. Broken by men from our world, and it’s my responsibility to patch her back up and make sure she never shatters again.
When I hook my fingers onto the latticed grate, my fingertips brush against hers on the other side. “I’m not going anywhere, Queenie. Not ever.”
“Even if you almost get killed again?”
My laugh filters through the grate. “I’ve just accepted that near-death experiences are a hazard of being with you.”
The grate rattles softly. She must have put her head against it too, because I can feel her warmth and smell her perfume. I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting against the urge to punch through this wall and grab for her. Instead, I take all the restraint I can muster and slip a hundred dollar bill out of my pocket, then push it into the grate.
“Kiss me.”
After a few seconds, it slides back the opposite direction and drops back onto my lap. Then there’s a shuffle and hinges groan, and soft candlelight fills my booth. My gaze slides to Penny darkening the doorway. She stoops to clamber inside and sits on my lap.
Her cheeks are wet and warm against mine. She brushes her lips up my jaw and over my mouth, and whispers against it.
“This one is free.”
