The Priest (The Original Sinners #9) - Tiffany Reisz Page 0,39
“Get to the bottom. Start at the top again. Apologize. Flowers. Beg for forgiveness. Win them over.”
“Power trip.”
“You got it. Therapist thinks—I do, too—that it’s because my father died of a heart attack when I was fifteen. Tough time to lose your dad. I started looking for any way to feel better, to feel in control. I found girls.”
“What changed? You don’t seem like much of a player anymore.”
“I got shot,” Cyrus said. “I was off-duty, rolled up on a bunch of squad cars outside a gas station. Owner got shot during a robbery. They had it under control so I went home. Drove past this alley, saw a kid running—matched the description down to his yellow Adidas tennis shoes. I knew it had to be our guy. I got out and ran down the alley…came out the other side and BAM—hit right in the shoulder. Another cop thought I was the guy.”
“Jesus Christ,” Nora said. “You got shot by another cop? He didn’t recognize you?”
“All he saw was ‘black dude running.’ Good thing he’s a shit shot, or I’d be a dead man.”
“Fuck.”
She didn’t ask any stupid questions. Cyrus appreciated that. “Fuck” was the right response. At least she didn’t ask Did it hurt? like a lot of people did. Yeah, it hurt. Of course it hurt.
“Two weeks laid up in the hospital. Nobody but family came to see me. I had my phone. I let every girl on my list know their poor baby Cy had taken a bullet in the line of duty. I was waiting for my medal, waiting on some sympathy.”
“At least a sponge bath, right?”
“Not one of them showed up.”
“Not one?”
“They had me figured out.” Even as he said it, he remembered one person had shown up at the hospital to check on him, one of the girls on his list. Detective Katherine Naylor. She’d made the mistake of coming when his mom was there. He’d pretended like they were nothing but coworkers, and that had been the last of Katherine.
“Not even Paulina?”
“I hadn’t met her yet,” he said. “I did a couple weeks after I got out. I was staying with Mom while I was recovering. Her rule—you stay in her house, you go to Mass with her every Sunday.”
“Sounds like your mom and my mom went to the same Mom School.”
“Mom introduced me to Paulina at church. Love at first sight. For me. She looked at me like she’d been reading my internet search history.”
Nora laughed at that. She did have a good laugh. The kind of laugh that made a man stand up a little straighter in his seat.
“Took a long time to convince her to give me a chance. She’d heard enough horror stories from Mom in their prayer group to make me work for her. For three whole months I could only see Paulina at Mass. Lucky for me, she goes every day.”
“So you started going every day?”
“Every God damn day,” he said.
“Explains why your website says you only help out women and children. You’re doing penance.”
“Maybe so,” he said. “Maybe that’s what it is.”
“I think you’re more Catholic than I am.”
“Bad Catholic. Paulina was this close to joining the Ursulines in town.” He held up his hand, fingers a hair apart. “I stole her right out from under God’s nose. Might be going to hell for that.”
Nora said, “It’s okay. We’ll ride share.”
He laughed, couldn’t help it. The lady was fun. Fun enough to be a real friend? Time would tell maybe.
“You’re all right, Nora.”
She smiled. “Better reserve judgment there, buddy.” Nora hit the gas.
Chapter Thirteen
They arrived at St. Valentine’s, and Cyrus told her to park on the street near the back, close to the parish house.
When Nora turned off the car’s engine, that’s when Cyrus realized he didn’t quite know how to introduce her to Sister Margaret.
“Ready?” Nora asked.
“Hold on. Trying to figure out how to lie to a nun,” he said.
“Oh, that’s my area,” she said. “What are we lying about?”
“You. If I’m going to let you snoop around Father Ike’s room, I better tell Sister Margaret something about you.”
“Hmm…maybe tell her I’m a private eye in training?”
Cyrus stared at her.
“Okay, stupid lie,” she said. “Tell her I’m a psychic you hired to read the vibrations of the room?”
“I could maybe tell that to anyone in this town but a nun.”
“True. Catholics don’t really trust psychics. You could tell her I’m a therapist who knows a lot about the psychological issues Catholic priests deal with.”