I get up from my perch on my desk, patting my pockets to make sure I have my keys. “At the church, but I’m heading out now.”
“Alright, well, I’ll let you go. Call me tomorrow to let me know how it goes with Taylor.”
“Will do.”
After we hang up, I pocket my phone and pull out my keys. Closing my office door behind me, I lock it. The church is always quiet this time of night, even though the doors are unlocked for anyone to come in to pray if they feel the need. I’m always the last one to leave, and I like to keep the church accessible to anyone when I’m here.
On my way down the center aisle of the church, I notice a couple of the hymns on the pew, so I stop to put them in the sleeve on the back of the pew where they belong. My head jerks toward the back of the church when a crash sounds. On swift feet, I move in that direction, already knowing exactly what I’ll find. I’ve only gotten brief glimpses of the girl. She always manages to slip out before I can stop her.
The hallways are dark as I navigate them toward the back room where the food pantry is. I pick up my pace to a jog when I hear a scuffling sound. Rounding the corner, I’m suddenly shoved backward into the wall. My hand reaches out, barely grazing a black sweater before it slips away.
“Hey!” I yell at the retreating back and start running after her. For such a small thing, she moves pretty fast. “Wait!”
Her steps don’t falter as she darts around a corner into the sanctuary. I’m only about ten feet behind her. Determination to find out who this girl is, and to help her in any way I can, has my legs stretching into longer strides. Reaching out a hand to grab the back of her sweater, I miss when she suddenly takes a turn between a couple of pews and some cans fall from her arms. My foot lands on one as it rolls in front of me. Grabbing the end of a pew, I barely manage to catch myself before I fall. By the time I right myself enough to continue my pursuit, the girl is already at the end of the pew and running toward the door at the back of the church.
“I can help!” I yell at her.
This time, my words have her slowing. She comes to a stop, keeping her back toward me, but turns her head to the side. With a ball cap covering her head and her hair hiding most of her face, I can’t see her that well. Just like the week before, from what I can see of her, she looks to be in her mid-teens.
I don’t move, afraid if I do, she’ll run off. Her shoulders rise and fall rapidly.
I keep my tone soft. “I know you’ve been taking food from the pantry. If you’re in some kind of trouble, I can help.” Her shoulders stiffen, so I quickly add, “Whatever it is, I’m bound by the church to keep it between us.”
Her head moves, and her chin drops like she’s looking at the floor. I take a hesitant step forward.
“Please, I only want to help,” I offer quietly.
When I take another step, it’s a mistake. She must notice the move, because she’s dashing toward and through the door. I take off after her again, but by the time I make it outside, she’s nowhere to be found. I slowly walk down the steps, my eyes moving back and forth down both sides of the street. I scan the darkness, looking for any movement, and don’t find any.
I stand there for I don’t know how long as disappointment sours my stomach. Shoving my hands into my slacks pockets, I take one more look around.
I’m not sure what it is, but something about the girl piques my interest. A whisper in the back of my mind tells me I’m supposed to help her.
Chapter 2
JERSEY
Peeking my head around a tree across from the church, I watch Father Adair as he scans the streets. The light shining down on him from a nearby light pole illuminates his features enough for me to clearly see frustration lining his face.
Being a man of the cloth, whose sole purpose is to help people, not only religiously, but in life, I can imagine Father Adair’s disappointment of me once again slipping away. This is the closest I’ve been to being caught, and that’s one thing I can’t afford to do. It was stupid of me to stop when he shouted he could help me. If only that were true. I wanted to believe him, but it’s not just my life hanging in the balance. Someone else is depending on me. I could possibly chance my life, but I’ll never do it with Sam’s.
After several more moments of Father Adair looking around the area of the church, he shoves his hands into his pockets and finally turns away, walking slowly up the steps. I watch his retreating back, wondering why in the world a man such as him would be a priest. There’s nothing wrong with the position. I just wouldn’t have figured a man who looks like him would stay celibate.
Father Wesley Adair is gorgeous. Dark-brown hair long enough to touch the collar of his clerical collar, a body built with muscles he has no way of hiding under his clothes, incredibly tall, and if my eyes haven’t been deceiving me, he has tattoos crawling up his arms. I haven’t been close enough to see the color of his eyes, something that, for some unknown reason, sends regret churning in my stomach, but I imagine them to be a lighter color.
When the church door closes, I sag back against the tree and release a long breath. That was too close. I’ve been taking food from the church for weeks now, but I’m wondering if I should find somewhere else to get what I need. The next time, I might not be so lucky.
Hugging my bag to my chest, I check my surroundings before I dart off down the street, making sure to stay in the shadows. I take back alleyways, away from any lingering people who may still be out this late.
Coming to a stop at an old, abandoned building, that used to be office space, I look all around me before I push open the heavy metal door and slip inside. My lungs deflate, and I take in my first real steady breath since leaving the church. My feet echo off the walls as I walk through the trashed building and hit the stairs. Up three flights and a right at the end of the hall, I’m quiet as I go into one of the rooms. A bundle of blankets lay in one corner and that’s where my feet take me.
I drop to my knees and immediately set my hand on the blanket. It stirs and a head full of shaggy blonde hair and dull blue eyes pop out.
“How are you feeling?” I ask as I set the back of my hand against Sam’s forehead. I’m relieved when I’m met with cooler flesh. He’s still warm, but not as much as he was earlier.
“My head hurts a little, but I’m better.”
“That’s good, sweetie.” I try to add warmth into my smile, but I’m not sure I manage it. I’m glad his fever seems to have broken, but it’s hard to be happy with the situation we’re in. “Let’s check out your wound.”