Aidan shrugged. “There was something…I don’t know. I was pretty focused on staying alive.”
I stepped closer and touched the cut beside his mouth again. His eyes opened, met mine, wide and surprised. I couldn’t resist running my thumb along his lower lip. “We need to see to this,” I said, and I stared him down until he gave a slight nod.
“I…” He trailed off and bit that plump lower lip. My hand was still cradling his face, and I told myself it was because I was checking the cut. But mostly I was staring right at his mouth. “I should lock up first,” Aidan whispered.
I took my hand away from his face. “I’ll come around to check all the doors with you.”
“Thank you,” he said, and then his expression changed, went from dazed into relief. “Thank you for coming back. I prayed for help and—there you were.”
I gave a light scoff and took a step back from him, letting him out of the confessional. It was a place I hadn’t been for a long time, and I was just glad I hadn’t burst into flames or something when I’d crossed the threshold. “Don’t think God has much use for me. But I’m glad I came back, too.”
We set off to the large front doors, which Aidan locked with a large key, then drew the bolts across. “Why did you?” he asked as we walked back down the nave.
“Hm?”
“Come back.”
“Oh.” I watched him snuff the few votives that were still burning. “I wanted to make sure Mr. D didn’t leave you with too much clean up. Isn’t it bad luck to put out the candles?”
“There’s no such thing as luck, Teo. Plus God understands fire hazards just as well as humans do. And that was very kind of you, but, well, Finchwasin a hurry.”
“You let him get away with too much,” I told him as we turned toward the hallway that led back to the church hall.
“He has a short attention span,” Aidan said ruefully. “And I don’t like keeping him too long on Friday nights, since he has his Date Night.”
I shouldn’t have said it, because Mr. D was technically my boss, but I did anyway. “He’s disrespectful.”
“He’s just kidding around,” Aidan said easily. He locked up the side door, and then we reached the community hall. He paused in the hallway, looking around, nervous again.
“You want I should do a sweep?” I asked. “Look around?” I added, in case he didn’t understand.
His eyebrows pulled together, but he shook his head. “I’m sure it’s fine.”
“I’ll do a sweep. You stay right there.” I didn’t want Aidan worrying about anything, and definitely not about some stinking Irish asshole. So I took out my gun again and checked the rooms, the cupboards, even under one of the tables that had a long cloth over it. “We’re clear,” I said at last, and beckoned Aidan over to the back door. “You wanna lock that door while we’re still here?”
He came over to lock the back door that led into the community hall and gave me a quick smile. “Thank you, Teo. You—you make me feel very safe.”
“That’s my job.” I was paid to do it for Finch D’Amato. For Aidan O’Leary, I’d do it for free. “Where’s the first aid kit?”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s fine—” he began, touching the cut by his mouth.
“Uh-uh,” I said firmly. “You need something on it. You don’t know where that asshole’s—uh, excuse me, that jerk’s knife has been.”
He gave a faint smile. “Youcancurse in front of me, Teo. I’ve heard it all. Mostly from Finch, as it happens.” He took me through to the kitchenette, where there was a small first aid kit in one of the cupboards over the sink. I made him sit at the table as I cleaned off the cut. It was small, but I hated to see anything marring that pretty face of his. God probably preferred his priests unmarked, too, I figured, trying to remind myself that he was off-limits.
Definitelyoff-limits.
Aidan closed his clear blue eyes as I tipped his face up toward the light, and I dabbed gently at the wound with an antiseptic-soaked cotton ball. “So what was that all about, anyway?” He flinched. “Sorry, did I hurt you?”
“No. Just stings a little.”
After a moment, I prompted, “Well? The Irish guy? What did he want?”
“I’m not sure.”
“He didn’t say?”
Aidan’s eyes opened again, no longer clear and trusting. Now they were only fearful. “I don’t think…I can’t really talk about it.”
