Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“So what’s the plan? What’s the scam?”
“Excuse me?” What the fuck was he on now?
“Well, I know you ain’t no Manwarring. It’s that other bitch who married the only Manwarring son. I thought for a second you might be like a cousin or something, but then why would you be here? Why would you care? So what’s your scam? Did you want in on this shit? You want me to cut you in?” He squinted his eyes and looked me up and down.
“No, I have no interest in your scam.”
“Dude, you didn’t even have to go through all this work. You wanted to scam the bitch for money, all you had to do was fuck the mom. Fuck, since the summer I was sixteen, I made an extra five grand a month letting her suck my dick. It’s easy fucking money. She’d probably go for you. I know she ain’t as much to look at as her daughter but turn her over and you can’t really tell.”
I took the gun back out of my pocket and pulled back the hammer, ready to end this miserable son of a bitch’s life.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, I told you what you needed to know,” he argued.
“So?”
“So, I told you so you wouldn’t hurt me.”
“Did I say I wouldn’t hurt you?” I asked. “Don’t worry, I’m a priest. I’ll forgive your sins before your soul goes straight to hell.”
Panic finally set in, and this asshole realized what was happening. By some cosmic intervention, he realized he wasn’t tied down. He got to his feet and rushed me. He was still high, still disoriented, making him slow and clumsy.
I stepped aside, and he ran straight into the pitchfork that was tied to the wall.
The sharp stainless steel tines of the fork stabbed him straight through the neck. His eyes were still wide as he gripped the tines of the pitchfork, trying to pull himself off.
By the way the blood was pouring down his body, I knew he’d be dead in seconds.
I grabbed the light and my phone, turning them both off. Then, as the light faded from his eyes, I made the sign of the cross over his body, and I left.
Sometimes, you didn’t need to get your hands dirty. Sometimes, I thought maybe God was watching. I wasn’t arrogant enough to think he was on my side, but maybe he hated Mary Quinn as much as I did.
CHAPTER 16
ROSE
My heart ached, filled with grief and guilt, as I sat on my bed and gave in to my tears.
I didn’t love Raul, not the way I’d convinced myself I had when we started our relationship. For me, he was a crush, a man that I shouldn’t want, a man my mother would never approve of. He was attractive, had a smile that made my knees go weak, and was the first man to look at me and truly see me.
Raul was sweet and kind. He risked not only his job but also the jobs and livelihoods and even the home of his entire family to be with me.
How did I return that sacrifice?
I fell for a man who was even more forbidden and taboo than he was. I showed Raul my love by ignoring his text messages and then letting a priest fuck me in the confessional.
When I got home that night, after an extremely long, hot shower that still didn’t make me feel clean, I realized I needed to let Raul go. We needed to have the conversation that would end our so-called relationship—such as it was—for good.
I never got the chance.
There was far too much shame and guilt in my heart for me to face him that night. I procrastinated and told myself that in the morning, I would call him and make this right. I would confess to him, and if he’d still have me, we’d make plans, and I would let him take me away from Father Manwarring forever. If he was too hurt by my betrayal and decided I wasn’t worth his love, then I would accept that, too.
Either way, I would be punished for my sins.
The truth was, I was just too much of a coward, and probably wouldn’t have called him.
Then, this morning, over breakfast, my mother gave me the news as if it was the funniest thing she had ever heard. She laughed about how our stupid gardener had impaled himself on a pitchfork. She pressed her manicured nails to her chest, tilted her head back, and cackled with glee. Saying things like maybe it was intentional, maybe it was suicide because he knew he would never rise to anything. Or maybe he really was so stupid that he didn’t know which end of the pitchfork he should be using.
I’d always known that my mother was a vile, hateful woman, but to take such pleasure that she was almost giddy at the death of another human being was sickening. She calmed herself and gave her butler orders to send flowers to the family with condolences and whatever else was to be expected.