Raphael (Deadly Virtues #1)(14)

Father Quinn got to his feet and nodded. “He will be rendered speechless when he sees you, sister.”

Maria lowered her eyes at the compliment. She would find no pride in this mask they had painted on her. She would find no pleasure in this task. This was a sacrifice to God. And she would not be derailed from its purpose.

“Remember,” Father Murray said, “you will know him when you see him. He is beyond attractive. He has olive skin and dark hair that falls over his eyes.” Father Murray paused, a strange look overtaking his face, as though he were lost in a memory of some sort. Clearing his throat, he finished, “But it is his eyes that will confirm it’s him. Light-brown eyes that appear oddly golden.”

Maria nodded. Nervously, she played with her hair. “That,” Father Quinn said, pointing at her moving hand.

Maria dropped her hand. “Sorry. I play with my hair when I’m nervous. It’s why the headdresses we wear at the monastery are a gift.” She tried to smile through her mirth, but it was swept away by her rising anxiety.

“No,” Father Quinn said. “Keeping doing that. Raphael will like it. It will draw his attention. That and the move I showed you.” Father Quinn looked at her expectantly. Maria, understanding she was to practice one final time, tipped her head to one side, pulling all of her hair over one shoulder, baring her naked neck. And as Father Murray had insisted, she ran her red-painted nails down the bones underneath her skin. A caressing, seductive movement. It made her feel sick every time she did it.

“Yes,” Father Murray hissed. The pleasured burst of praise made Maria stop dead. Her gaze snapped to the priest. For the first time since she had met him, Maria saw something unusual in his expression—want, need . . . all from staring at her bared neck. Maria quickly righted her hair, covering both shoulders and hiding her throat. Father Quinn took hold of Father Murray, who was still staring. The touch of his superior’s hand snapped him from whatever impure thought he was lost in. Father Murray’s eyes widened when he saw Maria staring, and Father Quinn whispered something into his ear.

“I’ll be right back. I need to check on something.” Father Murray fled into his bedroom. Maria flinched as the door slammed shut and she heard the running water of the shower.

“He is tense,” Father Quinn said from beside her. Maria jumped; she hadn’t realized the older priest was so close. “He wants this sinner caught. Taken off the streets to protect innocent lives. It pains him that this task has fallen to us, to the church.”

Sadness plowed through the high defensive walls Maria had built years ago. “I understand.” She tightened her grip on the purse. She knew what it was like to feel failed by the authorities. She knew how it felt to lose hope.

“Are you ready, child?”

Maria nodded at Father Quinn, trying not to fall into the black well of despair. She had crawled out of the abyss once. She wasn’t sure she had the strength to do so again.

He checked his watch. “It’s past midnight. The club will be brimming with carnal sinners. Do you have your cards?” Maria checked in her purse for the ID card the priests had supplied her with and the card that allowed her into the club. Father Murray told her no questions would be asked of her—it was club policy. “Keep that purse with you at all times. And press that button when you see him, or if you feel you are in danger.” Maria nodded again. Her voice was silent as she mentally prepared for what was about to happen.

Maria made for the door, but Father Quinn stopped her with his hand on her arm. She spun around, and Father Quinn pushed a rosary into her hand. Maria had left hers at the convent for safekeeping. She missed the beads as they slipped through her hands in prayer. “Keep this with you, Maria. Do not wear it around your neck or have it where anyone will see. But keep it with you for courage. To know the Lord and Mother Mary are with you.” As soon as the rosary was dropped into her palm, peace filled her. She looked at the new rosary in her hand and studied the red beads and ornate silver cross, Jesus hanging on the crucifix, redeeming mankind’s sins. On closer inspection, Maria noticed a miniscule “B” carved into Jesus’s chest. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “But what does the ‘B’ stand for?”

Father Quinn’s eyes flashed with something she couldn’t understand. But he quickly recovered enough to say, “I was told it was originally to represent the Boston archdiocese.” Maria nodded, although she was surprised she had never seen such a design before. Father Quinn laid a hand on her shoulder. Maria froze. She wasn’t comfortable being touched. Especially by a man. Father Quinn leaned in close. “But I like to think it stands for ‘Baptist.’ As in John the Baptist. The man whose sacrifice paved the way for Jesus to save all mankind.”

Maria let those words wash over her. “I like that too,” she replied and kept the rosary in her hand. She turned to the door and, without looking back, stepped out into the hallway and began her mission.

In the privacy of the elevator that would take her to the hotel’s foyer, Maria tucked the rosary into her left bra strap. If she couldn’t wear it publicly, she would wear it as close to her heart as she could manage.

Her legs were jelly as she crossed the marble floor of the lobby and walked on unsteady feet out into the frigid Boston winter. The club was only a few yards away. Keeping her head held high, she played her part as best she could. Feigning confidence had been the greatest challenge so far. Maria was used to keeping her eyes to the ground, hands clasped in constant prayer. Her hands were not linked, but she could still find peace in her faith. Hail Mary, full of grace, Maria prayed silently in her mind as she approached the liquor store. She walked through the automatic doors and headed to the back room, praying she had the entrance right. A steep staircase awaited her on the other side. A large man stood at the bottom of it. Maria handed him her cards as he looked her up and down with a salacious smirk on his face. Handing back the cards, he opened the gate that allowed her to pass upstairs.