“I was hoping to convince you to return for a while. Stay here and rebuild. They need a leader, and you are a born leader, Anthony.”
“Stay here? On the island?” He missed his home greatly, but he would be lost without Skye.
“I understand you have begun a new life in Santa Louisa.”
“I am rebuilding the mission, but that is the least of my responsibilities right now, as I’m sure you are aware of what we are confronted with.”
The cardinal nodded, then turned to look at the stained-glass windows. “These are dark days,” he said. “We haven’t faced such a difficult trial in our lives, Anthony. In my support of St. Michael’s, I have always believed we need the righteous acts of selfless men to maintain balance until our Lord comes again.”
Anthony heard a
“The …
Anthony was stunned. The cardinal wanted him to retreat and save the monastery? Surely there were others better suited to the task than he. And how could he leave Skye and Rafe alone to battle the Seven?
The cardinal continued. “The few benefactors the Order has cultivated over the years are wavering now that Philip is gone. He had been the silent power. He was the one gifted with encouraging the faithful to open their purses. The trip he made to parishes across the world more than ten years ago brought in a substantial amount of money, but as you know, maintaining St. Michael’s and Olivet separately, in addition to the travel and tools-I should not have to tell you that funds are extremely tight.”
“This is about money,” Anthony said, disappointed.
“Not only money.”
“With all due respect, Cardinal, my abilities are better served on the battleground, not inside the fortress. Especially in these perilous times. We don’t have years to stop the Seven Deadly Sins; we have months. We have captured one, and we will find the others. And to reunite Olivet with St. Michael’s would be disastrous. We split the two more than one hundred years ago because a coven nearly destroyed us. It is far more difficult to take out two places, in addition to the dozens of parishes and universities where members of the Order are living and working. After-yes, I will consider returning to solidify the Order. St. Michael’s was my home for many years; I miss it. But my home is now in Santa Louisa.”
“And with Sheriff McPherson.”
“My feelings for Skye are second to my duty.” As he said it, Anthony wondered whether that was true. Could he leave Skye forever if that’s what it took to save St. Michael’s? He hoped to never have to make that choice.
But the cardinal wouldn’t be talking to him if the situation wasn’t desperate.
Anthony said, “I will make calls. I have contacts all over the world I can cultivate. I can raise the money we need.”
“Perhaps that will slow the inevitable,” the cardinal said without conviction.
The cardinal turned to face the two boxes that sat on the long, narrow table. “Dr. Lieber brought these here with him. Perhaps if we find the answers we need, we’ll have a resurgence of support.”
Anthony would have preferred to go through the material alone, but he had no choice. Keeping the cardinal on their side, as their advocate, was crucial, now more than ever.
He slid over one box to the cardinal, opened the second box for himself, and silently, they read the dead doctor’s extensive notes, hoping to find the answers in these pages to save humanity.
Rafe woke when Moira sat up abruptly in bed.
He squinted. They’d fallen asleep with the lights on. He had no idea what time it was and glanced over at the clock: 6:45. He assumed a.m., since the cop who expected them at “oh-eight-hundred hours” hadn’t kicked in the door and arrested them. What had they had, four hours’ sleep? If that.
He turned back to Moira. “Good mor-” He stopped.
Her back was covered in scars. Some faded, some prominent; some long, some short nicks. One started at her shoulder, dark and wide, and tapered to nothing at the top of her round buttocks. He lost count at twelve … he remembered asking about the scar across her stomach last night.
Rage bubbled inside him. Rage that anyone would hurt Moira-whip her, beat her, hurt her so deeply that the scars on the outside were the least of her injuries.
“Good ‘mor,’ too,” Moira said sleepily. She rose and stretched like a cat, beautiful in her nakedness, long and lean and muscular. She crossed the short distance to the bathroom and closed the door behind her.
Rafe couldn’t rid his mind of what Moira had suffered. He had his fair share of scars, though faded and hardly noticeable. Most of them he’d received as a young child, before he turned up at St. Michael’s. The cut on his cheek had been during training at Olivet. That scar irritated him because it didn’t have to happen; Rico had been making a point the hard way.
Did Rico fully comprehend what Moira had suffered? Or was she simply another tool in the battle against evil? Expendable, replaceable.
Not to Rafe. He could not let her be a martyr in this cause. In any cause. There had to be another way. He would find it.
He heard the shower running, and he rose from the bed and knocked on the door.
“Moira?”
She opened the door, still naked. “You knocked?”
“It would save time and water if we showered together,” Rafe said.
Moira wanted to turn Rafe away. Not because she didn’t want to be with him; on the contrary, she didn’t want to leave their bed. She’d wanted to stay at his side, on top of his body, under his body, anywhere near him to absorb his warmth, his strength, make love to him all day. The idea that she couldn’t get enough of Rafe Cooper overwhelmed her. This was wrong on so many levels. Neither of them would live a long life, for one. Rafe distracted her, and any distraction could be fatal. Not to mention, the only other man she’d loved, she’d killed.
She shivered, unable to think about Peter.
“Rafe, maybe-”
He kissed her, covering her mouth with his, and preventing her from saying whatever she’d been about to say. Since Peter, she’d avoided getting close to anyone, knowing it would end badly. In death. His or hers. Or both of theirs. Their lives were neither stable nor safe.
So perhaps because of that precariousness, shouldn’t they enjoy this moment in time? What if this was it, and today was all there was? What if she’d never again feel his urgent hands on her body, his passionate mouth exploring her lips, his arms embracing her so completely that she didn’t know where she ended and he began?
She gasped when he lifted her off the ground and carried her to the shower. She wrapped her legs around his waist as hot water coursed over them.
Last night was sensual and sweet; this morning was sexy and fast, up-against-the-wall passion. Rafe supported her with the weight of his body and his hands cradling her ass. She gasped as he entered her in one deep movement, then stood there. Their bodies were tense and hard, every nerve ending raw and excitable. Moira’s breath came in shallow moans as Rafe moved in and out, his mouth on hers, his tongue mimicking the rhythm of his confident thrusts. Every sensation was heightened, the sound of water pounding over them, on the tile, swirling down the drain. The steam-filled bathroom sizzled with the electricity of their lovemaking. She felt weak and strong at the same time; she longed to peak yet she never wanted this rare, powerful feeling of being more than alive to ever end.
“Moira,” Rafe whispered. “Dear God, but I love you.”
Waves of his passionate emotions flooded her. She couldn’t respond, couldn’t think. They clung to the other as if drowning, and maybe they were, the steam suffocating them like an obsession, Moira’s burning need to give everything she had and take everything Rafe could give. It was so much more than she’d ever desired to share with
