The Priest (The Original Sinners #9) - Tiffany Reisz Page 0,105
the end of the drive. The gate was half-opened, and they went through.
Everywhere they looked, they saw metal sculptures. Naked women cavorting, naked men cowering. A high-pitched whine was coming from a free-standing shed. The Doc’s shop.
Nora stared at one sculpture of a woman in a robe holding an arrow and ramming it into the balls of a male angel who was either really into it or really, really not into it. Hard to tell if the face was moaning or screaming.
“A reverse St. Theresa and the Angel,” Nora explained. “I think I want it.”
“Nora.”
“Sorry.”
They went to the shop doop. Cyrus was half-worried they’d scare Doc into setting himself on fire if he pounded on the door.
He did it anyway.
BAM BAM BAM.
He had to do it a few more times, but eventually it got the man’s attention. The machine sound ceased and a clattering came from within, then a muffled swearing sound. Finally, the door opened.
Doc stood before them in stained canvas trousers and a t-shirt that appeared to have burn holes in it.
“Oh, Doc,” Nora said. “You are in so much trouble.”
“Mistress Nora,” he said with a grin. “I was hoping we’d meet again.”
“You better let us in,” Cyrus said.
“With pleasure.” Doc stepped back from the door and held out his arm to usher them in. “Watch your step.”
There was shit everywhere. Boxes and buckets full of sand and water, equipment, tools, the whole insane nine yards. As the smoke cleared, Cyrus saw various workstations in the shop. One for welding, one for polishing, one for engraving.
“I’d ask you to sit,” Doc said, “but—”
“We’ll stand.” Nora crossed her arms over her chest. “You don’t seem very surprised to see us.”
“Surprised? No. Pleased, most definitely.” He reached for her hand, and Nora swatted it away, rather viciously Cyrus thought, pleased.
“Give it up,” Cyrus said. “I’m done watching your stupid act. You lied to us.”
“I didn’t lie.” Doc held up both hands. “I would never lie to the Queen.”
“Doc, seriously,” Nora said. “It’s getting old.”
He lowered his hands. “You’re really not as much fun as they say you are, you know.”
“Ah, you’re one of those,” Nora said, nodding. “You only like the idea of women. You don’t like actual women.”
“You wound me.”
“You wish,” Nora said.
“The man whose picture we showed you—that’s Isaac Murran,” Cyrus said. “You know him. You either made or engraved a chastity device for him. Or both.”
“I don’t reveal the names of my customers,” Doc said.
“You already ratted him out as being in one of your classes,” Cyrus said.
“That was before he was a customer. After trading a few emails with the man, then he became a customer. After that, you get nothing else from me.”
“He’s dead, Doc. He killed himself. Shot himself in the head. Right before he did that, he called me.” Nora pointed at herself. “He had my business card. You gave it to him, right?”
“The seal of the confessional doesn’t break simply because the sinner dies,” Doc reminded her. “You, of all dommes, should know that. Yes?” He grinned a mean, nasty grin.
Nora narrowed her eyes at him. So Doc knew she was sleeping with a priest. And he didn’t mind taunting her about it.
Cyrus minded, however.
“That’s it. I’m going to punch him. You don’t mind?” Cyrus was speaking to Nora while looking at Doc.
“Go for it,” Nora said.
Cyrus reached for Doc’s shirt, but the old man stepped back and into a table. A small butane torch rolled off the table and onto the floor.
“Fine. Fine. But this can’t get out,” Doc said. “Not a word of it. I do private commissions and those private commissions pay my mortgage. The business isn’t licensed. It’s all cash. I don’t want to spend the rest of my golden years in jail for tax fraud, all right?”
“Come on,” Nora said. “You really think I report my tips to the IRS. We’re on the same page. We’re supposed to be on the same side.”
“Can we go into the house, at least?” Doc asked as he picked up the torch. “Before we burn the place down?”
“Lead the way,” Cyrus said. “You do anything squirrelly though, and I’m calling Uncle Sam on you today.”
They let Doc turn off all his equipment. He seemed to be working on some sort of human-sized cage. An ornate iron locking mechanism was in the middle of being assembled on his worktable. The man had talent, that was for sure. Not that Cyrus was going to tell Doc that.