Page 8 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part Two

“Prego.” He smiles. “Buona giornata.”

By the time I’m walking past the baggage conveyors alongside Mercy, I’m buzzing with jittery energy.

“Cisco,” she hisses, jogging to keep up.

But I can’t slow down. “If they ask why you are here, you are not my companion; you are my responsibility. Understood?”

“Goddammit.” She tugs my sleeve, forcing me to stop. We stand in the thoroughfare to the exit, and she ushers me out of the way until we’re against the wall.

Humid Italian air filters through the sliding doors as passengers leave. I used to love this smell.

“Look at me,” she demands.

Grinding my teeth, I do as I am told and lock eyes with the bluest of blue. “We should go.”

“Not until you tell me why you are so upset.”

“Why aren’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

She looks at me, baffled. Does she not recall the previous twenty-four hours? The newly translated verse from this morning? “You know what I mean.”

Her eyes narrow. “You seemed okay last night . . . considering what happened. Even this morning.”

She is too . . . calm.

“You are not bothered about what Wesley said?” I lean in and whisper into her ear, “The prophecy.”

Her hand flutters to my hip as if she wants to pull me in, and she tilts her head until her cheek brushes mine. Her scent invades my lungs and curls between the bars of the devil’s cage.

“You think I’m Lilith, too?”

“Lilith—no, that is bullshit.” Old news. “I am talking about the other part.”

“Ooh.” She pats her pocket. “I haven’t read that yet.”

I ease back and lift my gaze to the ceiling. God help me. Please. I beg of you. Save me from this woman.

“It’s fine, babe.” She pats my cheek with a fond look in her eyes. “I’ll find a quiet spot when we get there, read it, and then burn it in the sink.”

My cheeks flush with warmth at her affection, and I force it away with a frown.

“Do it now.”

I reach into her pocket and fish around for paper, but she giggles and squirms away playfully.

“That tickles.”

“This is not the time for games,” I grumble. “Come here before someone notices.”

Tugging her close, I press her spine against the wall, using my body to pin her motionless so that I can reach into her pocket uncontested.

“A little more to the right,” she moans into my ear. “That’s the spot.”

I can’t help but laugh. It’s a quick, sharp release of tension, and then I’m smirking at her, shaking my head, holding out the folded note Wesley gave her.

“You will be the death of me, Misericordia.”