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“Splendid.” Taylor appeared annoyed when Dillon went right back to his phone. “Are we boring you?”
“No, asshole. Look.” Dillon held it up so they could see what was on the screen. Three mug shots.
Taylor took it from him and read aloud, “Priest arrested for filming himself in an unholy trinity with two dominatrices on the altar of Saint—”
“Let me see that.” Brendan snatched the phone from Taylor’s hand. “An unidentified witness noticed stage lighting through the window of a church and observed the half-naked priest having sex with two women wearing corsets and high-heeled boots. The witness took video footage and sent it to police, who arrived to find the three with assorted sex toys…holy shit.”
“Yeah, holy shit.” Dillon raised a brow. “Isn’t that Rourke?”
“It is,” he confirmed the name the young priest went by here at the club. Brendan hadn’t seen him in at least six months. Maybe more.
“Those girls look familiar too,” Dillon added.
“Don’t tell me that fucking priest is a member here, mate.”
Brendan slowly nodded. “Was a member.”
“Let me guess,” Taylor intoned. “He played with Salena.”
He kept nodding and rubbed his temple. “And those girls were friends of hers. They’ve been here too.”
Bo smirked. “A priest, Bren?”
“We vetted him, same as everyone else. Not for me to judge.”
Taylor swallowed his whiskey. “Salena doesn’t have friends. I’d bet my new Gibson that cunt is the unidentified witness and she set them up.”
“But why?” Bo questioned.
“Because she’s vile and that ‘unholy trinity’ can be linked to here.”
Dillon thrummed his fingers on the table. “Yeah, I can believe it.” Then he turned to Brendan, a grin slowly spreading on his face, and said, “I’ll fuck that bitch. And not how she likes it.”
Not if I get to her first.
Hours later, after the club was empty, Brendan locked the red service door and stepped into the alley. Salena and sullied church altars were the last thing on his mind as he walked. He was too tired to think of much at all except getting home and falling into his bed. Sleep devoid of dreams.
Brendan was almost to the opposite end of the converted warehouse when he heard the sounds that made him turn his head. They weren’t quite hidden in the shadows of the back stairwell, dimly lit by the lamppost in the alley. He was kissing her. She kissed him back. His hand left her waist and disappeared beneath her white sweater. She opened her eyes and saw him standing there.
For an instant her eyes locked with his.
He wanted to…
No.
He kept on walking.
Sunlight streamed in through the slats of the blinds, painting stripes on her bedroom wall. Katie rubbed sleep from her eyes and reached underneath her pillow. She glanced at her phone, surprised it was already noon, but then she didn’t get home until almost five.
In the morning.
And once she got in her bed she had a hard time falling asleep. She tossed and turned. Her brain just wouldn’t turn off. It was all his fault, too. How was she supposed to forget about Brendan when he was everywhere?
He was too close, and there seemed to be no way to escape him.
The phone vibrated in her hand.
Cam: Good morning, beautiful! I hope you slept well.
