“You’re not going to chain me to the bed, are you?” She laid the innuendo on thick.
His face went beet red nearly instantly, and he mumbled something under his breath before clearing his throat. “Nope. Nope. Definitely won’t be doing any of that.”
She laughed again and shut her eyes. She was so damn exhausted. “I’m probably going to need clothes. I have literally nothing with me except my phone.” She paused and shook her head as she remembered her stowaway. “And an undead rat.”
“Ally already has some for you ready to go on the plane, along with toiletries, new IDs, and a passport.”
“Ally?”
“My partner.” He smiled. “You’ll like her.”
“I’m shocked they let women into the Order. Is she a nun?”
“No, she’s a sister.”
“There’s a difference?”
Rinaldo let out a long, overdramatic sigh. “Heathens.”
Maggie laughed again. “My bad, sorry. I didn’t get the memo.”
“Nuns are what you think of as the stereotype. Sisters still take vows, but they’re not nearly so strict.” He gestured his hand vaguely. “She said she wanted to become a nun, but when she learned she couldn’t own a smart phone, she tossed that idea right out. That girl is always on Facebook or Instagram or whatever you kids use these days.”
“Hell if I know. I’m not on any of them either.” She shut her eyes and leaned her head back against the seat. “I—” only have one friend. “I don’t have friends.” Rinaldo clearly didn’t know what to say to that, as the conversation drifted away into silence.“Besides, I don’t have a last name, anyway. Not a real one.”
“I’m sure you do. You just don’t remember it yet. You’ll get there.”
She didn’t respond for a long time. When she did, it was more than a little bitter. “This isn’t like Little League. I don’t need encouragement, coach.”
It was his turn to cringe and tap the steering wheel again. “Memories are a touchy subject. Got it. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. It’s not your fault.” She went back to watching the scenery go by. “I just…I get sick of it. I get sick of being like this—of being broken.”
“Then let us help you.”
She smirked. “I don’t think I have a choice, but thanks for the sentiment. Besides, I…” She paused, changed her mind, and shook her head. “Never mind.”
“What?”
“It’s nothing.”
“I’m a priest. Come on. We’re good for things like this.”
“You’re a priest with a gun who carries tranquilizers. I’m pretty sure your version of ‘confession’ involves putting holes in somebody.”
“Well, no, but I…okay, yeah, you’re right.”
When her phone vibrated in her pocket, she fished it out with a sense of dread and hope before she checked the screen.
Spam email from Wayfair. She was both relieved and disappointed.
I bought a chair that one goddamn time, and I swear I’ll get spam from them for the rest of my freaking life. Lives. Unlife. Whatever I have.
She kind of wished it had been a message from Harry. Or even from Gideon. But she chose not to go with them. Why would they reach out to her? She made her damn choice. She had to deal with it.
Whatever.
She glanced over to Rinaldo, and saw his brows were furrowed in the middle, and he was chewing on his lip. He looked nervous. Moreover, he had the look on his face of a guy who realized he was screwing up at a funeral. It made her smile. “You’re not used to dealing with people, are you?”