Saints & Spies by Jordan McCollum

Author:Jordan McCollum [McCollum, Jordan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Suspense, FBI, Organized crime
Publisher: Jordan McCollum
Published: 2015-10-20T16:00:00+00:00

Molly switched off the lights to the cafeteria and turned to leave, but once again, Doyle Murphy blocked her way, standing in the door. It was too late for her to casually change course, and no one was around to save her. Doyle’s hands settled onto his hips — he expected to get whatever he wanted from her.

“Did you get the food you were needin’?” She kept her tone light.

Doyle snorted in amusement. “Where’s Father Tim?”

She looked over her shoulder, but the dark cafeteria was empty. “Haven’t seen him for the last hour.”

“Guess I’ll go hunt him down.” Doyle started down the hall.

Ice coated Molly’s heart. “Oh, were you still wantin’ an appointment with him?”

Doyle turned back. “You know, maybe you’re the one to talk to.”

“Sure now.” She gave him half a smile.

He took two paces toward the car park, then looked back at Molly. She clamped down on the fear roiling in her stomach and fell in step with him. He walked her through the car park to the parish office. “Glad we’re finally working this out.”

Molly’s heart slid down a centimeter. No. She wouldn’t be party to a mob’s plot. She was a Garda.

That was right. She was a Garda. Molly held her head higher. She could handle this. “I think we’d better not talk here.”

“At home?” Doyle folded his arms. “When?”

“Tuesday. Eight.” Molly seized her keys and her opportunity to end this encounter. “Can’t have anyone in the office after hours, you know yourself.”

He nodded slowly, examining her as if his hooded eyes could gauge her honesty. She slipped into the office and locked the door behind her. Molly settled into her chair and leaned back to stare at the beams on the sloped ceiling.

Father Tim had no idea what he was up against. Even Molly only had the evidence from the datebook, and rumors to go with it, to guess what these men were capable of.

As much as this outfit’s power and impunity terrified her, she was still better equipped to face them than Father Tim was. She had to keep Father Tim safe.

Because she loved him.

Molly sat up in her chair. She couldn’t let herself think that. Already tonight —

What had they done? There was no undoing it, no denying it. Perhaps no stopping it.

She flinched at her own thought. Of course she could stop it. She could control her feelings and save Father Tim from ending up like Father Patrick. That was why she was protecting him — he was her priest. Not because of the knowing light in Father Tim’s eyes, or how he’d defended her and her Irish culture, or how he remembered silly things like barmbrack and Crunchie bars, or how much she’d wanted him to cross those last centimeters tonight.

Molly turned to her desk. She had to stop thinking about that moment. She slid open the top desk drawer. Between the barmbrack ring and Lucy’s book lay the Crunchie bar. She tore into the gold and purple wrapper and took a bite of the chocolate bar — but either the quality of imported sweets had declined or .

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