Author: Tiffany Reisz

“She doesn’t have to.”

Griffin’s voice came from the doorway to the bathroom. Michael gasped and looked up. Nora pulled away enough to turn her head.

“Shit,” Michael breathed, his heart freezing, his stomach dropping, his whole body turning to ice.

“You meant all of that, didn’t you?” Griffin asked, looking down at where Michael sat in a pile of misery on the floor.

“Griffin, I’m sorry.” Michael pulled his knees tight to his chest. “I’m so sorry. Forget I said all that. I’m just—”

“Stand up,” Griffin said with the unmistakable tone of an order.

Michael came immediately to his feet.

“I’m so—” Michael began but Griffin didn’t let him finish the apology.

Griffin reached out and cupped Michael’s neck and pulled him hard against himself. Before Michael even knew what was happening, Griffin’s mouth was on his.

The kiss was everything Michael had dreamed about—powerful, possessive, unyielding. Griffin held Michael’s face in his hands, allowing Michael no chance for escape. But as Griffin’s tongue sought his, as their lips found each other, Michael knew he never wanted to escape.

Slowly Griffin pulled back.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the second I saw you,” Griffin breathed, pressing his forehead to Michael’s. “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you, Mick.”

Michael couldn’t believe the words.

“No…no way. I’ve been here two months. If you wanted me—”

“Your fucking priest told me if I laid a hand on you, he’d never let me see Nora again.”

Michael whirled around to face Nora, who watched them both with the tiniest hint of amusement on her lips.

“Nora? Father S said—”

“He has his reasons,” Nora said. “And yes, he told Griffin he’d revoke his 8th Circle privileges and kick him out of the community if he tried anything with you. And he wouldn’t let us see each other again. But I told you before, Griffin. Søren’s not a monster. You can talk to him. Call him. Explain—”

“Fuck calling him. And fuck the explanations. He thinks he’s God making all our decisions for us. What happens with me and Mick is none of his business. And I’m going to go tell him that. Right now.”

Griffin grabbed Michael one more time and gave him a kiss that left Michael panting and aching. But it ended all too quickly as Griffin wrenched himself away and left the bathroom.

“Griffin!” Nora called out. Both she and Michael nearly had to run to keep up with Griffin’s long, determined strides. “It’s about to storm. Can’t you wait until tomorrow? Just use the damn phone.”

“That won’t be good enough for Søren, and you know it, Nora. When I went to him six years ago and told him I was in love with you, talking wasn’t good enough. I had to prove myself. I was too pussy to do so then. And I didn’t love you enough to man up. For Mick, I will. If only to show that self-righteous, pretentious asshole priest of yours that he’s not the only dom with balls around.”

Michael looked at Nora in abject terror.

“Griffin’s not going to fight Father S, is he?”

Nora shook her head.

“No. Søren’s a pacifist.”

Michael sagged with relief. As strong and tough and young as Griffin was, he had a feeling Father S could wipe the floor with anybody on the planet.

“Thank God.”

“No, Søren doesn’t want to fight Griffin. He wants to break him.”

“Oh…” Michael watched Griffin disappear down the hall. “Fuck.”

Nora nodded. “My sentiments exactly.”

Michael waited for Griffin to reappear from wherever he’d gone. Maybe he could talk some sense into Griffin. He remembered the story Griffin had told him that morning after his first night with Nora—Griffin had gone to Father S to ask permission to be with Nora. Father S said not until Griffin was willing to submit to real pain, real dominance. Griffin couldn’t go through with it back then, not for Nora. But him…for him…

“I can’t let him do it. It’s stupid. We’ll figure something out,” Michael said, desperate to keep Griffin safe. “I’ll talk to him. I’ll talk to Father S. He—”

The sound of a roaring engine interrupted Michael and put an end to whatever plans he had to stop Griffin from his ridiculous idea of confronting Father S.

“What the—”

Nora sighed.

“That would be a Ducati monster peeling out of the driveway,” she said. “And in high gear too. He’s gonna get a shitload of speeding tickets if he’s not careful.”

“Nora…” Michael looked at her, his stomach a knot of pain and hope and sadness and joy in one aching, roiling mess.

She exhaled and laughed.

“Can we not have one week without some major drama around here? Come with me, Angel. I want to show you something.”

* * *

Suzanne drove back to the city but didn’t stop there. She kept going, kept driving and didn’t stop until she’d arrived in Wakefield, Connecticut. The entire way there, she thought about Søren, Father Stearns, Elizabeth’s brother… How could they all be the same person? To Claire he was the ideal older brother. To Elizabeth he was the symbol of the worst part of her life. To his congregation he was practically God incarnate. And to Nora Sutherlin he was “Beloved.” But that she loved him didn’t mean he loved her back, not in the same way perhaps. Suzanne knew Patrick loved her, was in love with her. But she didn’t feel the same.

Or did she?

Pulling her phone out of her purse, she dialed Patrick’s number. She nearly laughed at the relief in his voice when he answered.

“Suz. Goddammit. Where have you been? Is everything okay?’

“It is. I think so. Better anyway. Can you do me a favor? I’m driving and I need to look something up.”

“Sure. Anything.”

“Can you see if a woman named Elizabeth Stearns from New Hampshire has any kind of criminal record?”

“Google won’t help much with that. Let me call my NYPD friend. He can look it up.”

Suzanne hung up and waited. But she didn’t have to wait long.

“So?” she said when she answered.

“Arrested on suspicion of manslaughter. Father fell to his death down several flights of stairs. He was notoriously healthy and virile for an old geezer, so no one believed that he’d just fallen.”

“No conviction?”

“Nope. No witnesses. Spotty evidence. The only really incriminating thing Elizabeth Stearns did the day after Daddy’s death was head straight for Wakefield to talk to her priest-brother.”

“The cops thought she confessed the crime to him.”

“They did. Tried to get him to talk. Wouldn’t say a word even though the sister’s not Catholic. Apparently only baptized Catholics are supposed to go to confession so they leaned on him pretty heavily to spill it. Even the diocese wanted him to spill it. He refused on theological grounds.”

“And on the grounds of covering his sister’s ass. Knowing what her bastard of a father did to her, I don’t blame him at all.”

Patrick exhaled and the phone buzzed in her ear from the force of his breath. She smiled. Patrick…what would she do without him?

“So you’re done, right? This is done? You’re coming home now, right? Right?”

Suzanne grinned into the dark.

“Got one more thing to do first.”

“Then you’re coming home, right?”

“Right. But don’t wait up. This might take a while.”

“I’ll wait up.”

The smile lingered on Suzanne’s face long after she’d hung up. At about ten o’clock she arrived in Wakefield and Sacred Heart. A few lights still burned in the church and set the stained-glass windows subtly glowing. How beautiful the church looked by night…how peaceful, how sacred. She still didn’t really believe in God. Nothing would ever convince her that some man in the sky was running the show down here on Earth. But for once she started to believe a little in one of His believers.

She entered the church and found it empty. But surely Søren would return before long to turn off the lights and lock up. Søren… She realized all of a sudden that he’d become Søren again in her mind. But although she knew his name, knew his secrets, she didn’t feel quite worthy to call him by the name only his most trusted intimates knew him by.

“Father Stearns…” she whispered aloud as she stared at the altar at the front of the church. She’d never call him Søren to his face or in her heart and mind again. Glancing around, Suzanne saw a small staircase that led to the choir loft. She climbed the stairs and stood at the edge of the balcony area and surveyed the entire sanctuary.

Sanctuary. In olden times she knew that criminals and runaways would seek real sanctuary inside the walls of churches. The church was holy ground, sanctified, and the authorities treated it as a place of real power not to be meddled with. For the first time since childhood, Suzanne felt safe in a church and safe with a priest. She used to think the only cure for the ailments of the Catholic Church was wholesale destruction. It gave her pleasure to quote Denis Diderot’s words, “Man will never be free until the last king is strangled with the entrails of the last priest.” She’d met both a king and priest in her investigation and had to admit that while the world might not be better off with them in it, it certainly was more interesting.

Below her she heard the door open and Father Stearns strode down the center aisle toward the altar. She watched him a moment and smiled as he crossed himself, gave a quick, elegant bow next to a pew and sat down to pray. In his hands he held rosary beads, and she had to wonder for what special intention he prayed. She started to call out a greeting to him, but she heard the door below her open again.

“Søren!” A man’s angry voice echoed throughout the sanctuary. Suzanne took a step back from the edge of the railing and hid herself in the shadows. Father Stearns stood up and turned around.

“Griffin…how nice to see you in church.”

Suzanne’s inhaled in shock. She couldn’t see the man’s face, but from his muscular build and the photos that she’d seen, she recognized Griffin Fiske, the son of the chair of the New York Stock Exchange.

What the hell…

“None of that,” Griffin said, his voice flush with fury. “Don’t pull any of the bullshit mind-fuck stuff on me. You know why I’m here.”

“I don’t actually.” Father Stearns stood in the center of the aisle and gave Griffin a placid smile. “But tell me. We can discuss whatever you like.”

“Let’s discuss how my love life is none of your fucking business. Let’s discuss what an arrogant, pretentious asshole you are for thinking you can tell me or anyone who they can or cannot be with.”

“Eleanor is very fond of you, Griffin. I’ve yet to discern why.”

Griffin took a menacing step forward.

“Maybe because unlike you, I don’t try to control her every move.”

“Yes, Eleanor is utterly oppressed, isn’t she?” Father Stearns’s voice dripped with mockery. “Eleanor acts like a child because she’s full of childlike joy. You simply are a child, Griffin. A spoiled child who has never had a real relationship in his life. I’ve watched you use people up and discard them over and over again. If you think for one moment I would allow you to use up and discard someone I love—”

“Me?” Griffin laughed bitterly. “Me? I use people up and discard them? Are you blind? Are you deaf? Your precious Eleanor uses men like fucking tissues. One good hard blow and she tosses them out. Her editor? Her intern? Her thousand ex-lovers? Jesus Christ, Søren, even—”