Rev by Jeanne St. James

Chapter Four

Reilly satin the passenger seat and studied the plain, two-story house in front of them. The white paint on the wood siding was faded and peeling. It needed a fresh coat at least ten years ago or to be updated with vinyl siding. The house wasn’t falling down or anything, it just needed a facelift.

The Bronco’s engine still rumbled since Rev had put the shifter into neutral as he also stared at the house. He hadn’t even engaged the parking brake yet, almost as if he was weighing his options.

His expression was unreadable but his stiff body and the fingers white-knuckling the steering wheel said it all. This was not a joyous homecoming.

He was dreading it.

That made her wonder, for the hundredth time since yesterday, why he wanted to come back here at all. He said he wanted to make sure his father was dead. Simply reading the obituary would give him that. So would getting another phone call from his uncle once his father passed.

He didn’t need to put himself through turmoil just to witness it.

She wanted to say something but didn’t know what. Whatever she said he probably wouldn’t appreciate right now. Instead, she sat quietly—a struggle in itself—and let him work out whatever he needed to work out in his head.

Most likely whether to stay or go.

The problem was, if he didn’t say something soon, words might simply explode from her like a drunk unable to contain his vomit. She dug her nails into her palms in a desperate attempt to keep herself quiet.

She could do it. She could be patient. The whole point of going along was to be supportive and, if he needed her to keep her mouth shut, she’d do her best.

Staying quiet wasn’t her strong suit, so she hoped he appreciated the effort she was taking. She tried to concentrate on their surroundings instead, like… The fact that his parents didn’t live in a neighborhood. It wasn’t a farm, but the house was situated along a country road with other homes within view but not close enough to be on top of each other like in the suburbs.

She also noted that three vehicles were parked in the stone driveway. All plain, boring four-door sedans.

The lawn seemed—

Reilly jumped when he stomped on the parking brake and shoved the shifter into first gear before shutting off the engine. He yanked the keys from the ignition and stuffed them deep into the front pocket of his jeans.

For some weird reason, her heart began to pound. She wasn’t nervous about meeting his family. She was nervous for Rev.

She’d known and worked with him for a year now, and the way he was acting was not normal for him. Hell, it wasn’t normal for most people visiting their parents.

But she could understand it. She would feel the same way if she had to visit her own. In her case, though, she’d never do that, even if they were dying. Neither deserved her time or attention. Neither deserved even a second of thought. She had never been their priority, even when she was in her mother’s womb, so why would she ever make them hers?

What she was taking away from Rev’s words and behavior was that his parents didn’t deserve his time or attention, either. They had done something to severely damage their relationship with him and Saylor. She doubted it was anything minor. Maybe whatever it was was even heinous.

That made her thumping heart quicken.

“Rev,” escaped from her, even though she hadn’t meant it to. But the dread thickening the air of the Bronco’s interior had begun to seep into her own chest. “We should just leave.”

He turned his head, his blue eyes hard when they met hers. “No.”

The tension in the Bronco’s interior ratcheted up a notch or two. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Told you not to fuckin’ come. Once again you forced your way in the middle of somewhere you don’t fuckin’ belong.”

She caught her grimace and smoothed it out. He was striking out and she just happened to be conveniently close. She understood that, too.

She would give him a pass. This time. “Now that we’re sitting here, I know it was the right decision for you not to come alone.”

“Don’t need you or anyone else.”

She pressed her lips together in her attempt not to snap at him for being a dick. That was not what he needed right now.

Her heart seized when the front door of the house opened wide and a tall man stepped out. He didn’t look ill or feeble so it couldn’t be Rev’s father. The older man was dressed in a plain black suit with a black button-down shirt and a white clerical collar. As he walked down the porch steps, he did not turn toward the parked vehicles, instead he took long strides right toward the Bronco.

“Fuck,” Rev muttered under his breath.

It wasn’t a good sign if the visit was starting out with a muttered curse in reaction to a man of the cloth. Or whatever they were called. Reilly had no idea. The only time she’d ever stepped into a church was when a friend got married a couple of years ago.

She rated that experience a one out of five stars. #WouldNotRecommend. The wedding service was endless, and she didn’t understand why they kept standing and sitting and kneeling over and over… Especially when Reilly was wearing a short dress.

“Fuck,” Rev muttered one more time as the preacher, pastor, whatever, stepped up to the open driver’s side window.

At least Rev hadn’t closed the windows and locked the doors.

Reilly had no idea how long it had been since Rev had last been home, but the gray-haired man in the crisp clerical collar didn’t have any problem recognizing him. But then, Rev did have a face that was hard to forget.

“Brother Michael. It’s been far too long.” Not a friendly greeting, but actually quite icy. An unexpected tone from someone she figured was a church leader.

“Not long enough,” was Rev’s grumbling answer.

Shit.

Without any kind of reaction to Rev’s insult, the man glanced past him to her frozen in the passenger seat. He pointed a stiff, plastic smile in her direction that was nowhere near genuine but only because it was expected. “I see you brought your wife.”

What? “I’m—” Her words were interrupted when Rev’s hand shot out and clamped on her knee. He squeezed it almost to the point of pain.

“Yes, my wife decided to accompany me in this trying time.”

She blinked. Say what? Why was he speaking like that? Like he had a stick up his ass and wasn’t a carefree biker who dropped his pants and whipped out his dick every time the wind changed direction.

The man turned his gray eyes back to Rev. Reilly noticed the way his cold, narrowed gaze slid from the barbell piercings in Rev’s right ear to the hoop in his nostril and then over to the barbells in his left ear before coming back to settle on Rev’s face with an expression that looked like he’d just sucked on a lemon. Or a whole orchard full of lemons.

“It’s a dark time for our congregation, Brother Michael. Your father is such a pillar of our community. A leader to look up to. A perfect example of a God-fearing man whose life’s work is to serve the Lord. His loss will leave a gaping hole that may not be possible to fill.”

Rev’s fingers twitched painfully on her knee. She grabbed it and gave it a little squeeze of her own so he wouldn’t unintentionally pop off her kneecap in his simmering rage.

Reilly didn’t know whether to laugh or throw up at that description of Rev’s father. Even with the little she knew so far, she could guess that was all a bunch of bullshit. To say that to the man’s son was even more insulting. Obviously, it was said with a purpose.

The purpose wasn’t to console Rev, it was to make a damn point. A very sharp one jabbed in Rev’s chest.

“You receive his deathbed confession yet?”

The man made a sharp tsk-tsk sound. “Brother Michael, you know our order doesn’t do last rites or take confessions. A man’s sins are solely between him and God. No one else.”

“How ‘bout their victims?”

The creases at the corners of the pastor’s mouth deepened when it became tight and his shoulders stiffened. “Your father has always been an upstanding member of our order. Since you lost your way and left our community, he’s also become an elder who is revered and respected.”

“‘Hear now this, O foolish people, and without understanding; which have eyes, and see not; which have ears, and hear not.’”

Reilly’s eyes went wide as she stared in shock at the back of Rev’s dark blond head since he still faced the preacher. Or pastor. Or whatever the fuck the man was.

Did the cursing, pot-smoking, fuck-anyone-with-boobs biker just quote some sort of scripture?

She ran those words over again in her mind and realized what he said held the same meaning as “none so blind as those who do not see.” But for some reason he did not choose that simple and effective reminder, he recited that particular passage for a reason.

These two were verbally sparring with backhanded insults.

Maybe Rev was more complex than she ever thought.

She slid her gaze from him back to the clergy’s face. The older man no longer hid his now very unfriendly and unwelcoming expression. The religious leader no longer hid his disdain at Rev’s presence.

Reilly wasn’t liking this. Not at all. Something was very, very wrong. Had they stepped into some Stephen King or M. Night Shyamalan movie? Were things only going to get worse from here?

“Did you only come home to make trouble, Michael? Have you not outgrown that stage in your life and become a man? Or are you still a stubborn, petulant child who did nothing but create problems for your parents and steal your sister’s innocence?”

Rev’s whole body jerked, then his chest inflated so slowly that Reilly tightened her hand over the one he still had pinned to her knee so he wouldn’t swing at a man wearing a clerical collar.

Though, maybe she should let him. The condescending asshole deserved it.

When he tried to tug it free, she put her other hand on top and put her weight into it, too. “Don’t,” she whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

He didn’t even bother to glance at her but turned his face enough so she could see his jaw working and a muscle jumping in his cheek.

He needed to start the truck and they needed to get the hell out of there. Whatever this was, it was not going to get any better. She’d seen these types of movies, they never ended well.

Finally, Rev managed, “Not here to be judged by you or anyone else.”

“How about God?”

“Only here to say my final goodbye.”

“Did they ask you to come?”

“Brother Matthew did.”

“Then Brother Matthew made a mistake,” was the last thing the man said before turning and going to one of the dark sedans. Rev, with his nostrils flared and his lips now an angry slash, tracked his movement.

He breathed slowly, deeply and steadily like he was trying not to blow a gasket as he watched the sedan carrying the pastor drive away.

“Time to go,” she whispered.

With a single nod, he shoved open the driver’s door, yanking his hand from her knee.

“That’s not what I meant.”

He stood just outside the Bronco and ducked enough to look inside at her. “You stay in the truck. Doubt I’m gonna be long.” He slammed the door shut.

Oh no. No. He was not going in there alone.

She scrambled to open her door and climb out of the raised four-by-four. She almost twisted her ankle in her heeled boots as she jumped down, but she caught her balance and hurried after him. Only almost face-planting once along the way.

She caught up to him at the porch. “Think about this, Rev.”

“Nothin’ to think about.”

She stood at the bottom of the steps and sighed, watching him take determined steps to the front door. She expected him to pound on it, but he didn’t, he just turned the knob and flung the door open, going inside.

“Shit,” she muttered and jogged up the steps, across the porch and into the house before he could slam the door in her face.

She caught the door and closed it behind her, then turned and froze.

Yes, she knew only too well how these types of movies ended.

With desperation, destruction and, ultimately, death.

* * *

He felther presence at his back. He heard her shallow breathing. “Go back outside.”

“No, I’m not letting you do this by yourself.”

She was so fucking stubborn and always had to wedge herself where she didn’t belong.

“Don’t need you, Reilly.” Complete fucking lie.

While he’d never relied on anyone before, for some reason he was relieved she was there. Now was not the time to figure out why.

Matthew stepped out of the room to the right and into the hallway. He stopped when he saw them. “I thought I heard voices.” His lips moved like he was trying to force a smile but couldn’t quite manage it.

His uncle approached them and when he got within a few feet of Rev, he jutted out his hand. While his voice wasn’t cold, it wasn’t warm, either. “Welcome home, Brother Michael.”

He ignored the outstretched hand. “Name’s Rev. You don’t wanna call me that, call me Mickey. Haven’t been Michael since the day I walked out that door behind me.”

In reality, he didn’t walk out that door. He snuck out the back in the middle of the night with only the clothes on his back and a few things tossed into a brown paper bag.

Matthew dropped his hand and his brow furrowed. “Rev? Like reverend? Have you continued on the path of serving God?” The man actually sounded hopeful. Rev was about to smash the shit out of that.

“Fuck no. Short for revenge.”

A nervous laugh bubbled out of Reilly. She pressed a hand to the small of his back and stepped to his side. “Rev like rev an engine since he’s a mechanic.”

Matthew’s eyes fell on the woman by Rev’s side. “And this is?”

Reilly chewed on her bottom lip for the second she glanced up at Rev, then extended her hand to his uncle. “I’m Reilly—“

Rev dropped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side, tearing their clasped hands free. “My wife.”

Matthew’s eyes went wide. “Oh, your parents will be pleased to hear you’ve settled down.” Rev’s jaw shifted as his uncle’s eyes dropped to Reilly’s full hips. “Any little ones yet?”

Motherfucker.

“I keep her busy. Four, so far.” He dropped his arm from her shoulders and patted her ass. “She’s a good little breeder.” Reilly choked and he lifted his hand from her ass to pat her on the back. “You good, babe?”

Reilly nodded with one hand on her throat, still unable to talk. A fucking miracle in itself.

“And you didn’t bring them along?” Matthew asked, surprised. “I’m sure your parents would appreciate seeing their grandchildren.”

“Wouldn’t bring my babies around here. They’re safer at home.” Rev lifted one eyebrow. He didn’t give a fuck if his uncle picked up on his meaning or not. In fact, he hoped he did.

“Well… Your mother’s in the kitchen and your father has been in the sitting room ever since he’s been confined to a hospital bed. Who would you like to visit first, Broth… Michael?”

Neither.

“Mickey or Rev,” Rev reminded him.

Matthew tipped his head. “Yes… well. You’ll always be Michael to me. It’s a good strong name.”

Rev leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “Don’t give a fuck what you think about that name. It’s no longer mine.”

Matthew went pale and he cleared his throat. “So, um…”

Rev ignored him and glanced around. Nothing had changed. Not one thing since the day he left. A large wooden cross was the only decoration that hung in the narrow hallway that led to the back of the house.

He curled his hand around Reilly’s hip, gave it a little squeeze and guided her past his uncle and down the hallway that ran along the stairway to the second floor.

They might as well deal with his mother first. He didn’t even know if his parents knew he was coming.

“You tell them?” he asked over his shoulder as he continued toward the back of the house.

“No, I… wasn’t sure if you’d show up. I didn’t want to disappoint them if you didn’t.”

Rev doubted they’d be disappointed if they never saw him again. They probably thanked God every day since the day he disappeared.

Since they weren’t expecting his arrival, this would be a surprise family reunion.

Perfect.

When they stepped into the kitchen, his mother was at the stove, he swore wearing the same apron she wore when he was a kid. Her dark blonde hair, now with a few strands of gray, was pulled up into a tight bun and her back was to them.

“Sister Rachel,” Matthew called from behind them.

Rev stood frozen in place, his fingers tightening on Reilly’s hip as the mother he hadn’t seen in about twelve years turned and looked at him. With those few strands of gray hair and the wrinkles lining her make-up free face, she looked a lot older than her forty-six years.

It shouldn’t be a surprise that the way his parents lived their lives had aged them faster than normal. Or at least his mother.

It took her a full second before recognition filled her face. As soon as it did, it turned hard. And about as welcoming as Pastor Thomas’s.

Her blue eyes landed on her brother, who pushed past them to act as a buffer between mother and son.

“What’s the meaning of this?” she asked sharply, wiping her hands on her apron.

Yeah, this would be no loving family reunion. Not even close.

No smile. No tears. Just a frown marred her face. “Why is he here?”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Reilly’s face tipped up toward his and her eyes flicking back and forth from him to the woman who gave birth to him.

“I figured it was time for everyone to make peace,” Matthew said to his sister. “It’s time for things to be settled between you all.”

“Didn’t come here to see you,” Rev announced, shooting his uncle’s peace-making efforts to shit.

“Where’s your sister?”

Not “You look great, son,” or “Thank God, you’re alive. We’ve been worried,” or “We’ve missed you so much.”

Nope. That might mean they cared.

Matthew stepped between them, turning to face Rev. “I didn’t get a chance to tell them yet.”

“Sarah’s dead.” No lie was told when he spouted that out without bothering to soften the blow. Sarah had been dead for a long time. It was Saylor who lived in her place now.

He waited for his mother’s reaction to the knowledge that her only daughter was dead. Again, nothing. No tears, no gasp, not even a look of surprise.

She didn’t even ask how Sarah died.

His mother was emotionally frigid. She always had been. But then she’d been married to a man who had controlled her and her thoughts since she was seventeen. Women in their religious order were only allowed to serve God, their fathers and then their husbands. And, of course, bear children.

That was it.

They did not work outside of the home. They did not drive. They didn’t have one damn unique thought.

And sex was not supposed to be enjoyed, it was to be endured only for procreation. A woman who enjoyed sex was a whore. Even though, as many times as Rev was forced to read the bible, he never read anything in the “good book” that said a woman couldn’t enjoy sex.

Because the men sure did. Even with their daughters.

Seeing his mother reminded him what life Saylor would’ve lived if she hadn’t found a way to escape on her own. By acting out and committing crimes.

Though, Rev would’ve done his best to get her out of there as soon as he could’ve. But when he finally escaped at sixteen, he couldn’t raise his baby sister.

So, she did things to get herself out of the situation by stealing, fighting and anything else she could think of that would get her thrown into juvie over and over. She’d hardly be out for a week before she would do something to get thrown back in. A week home was probably too long. Hell, a day was probably too long.

Finally, she made sure to do something that would keep her locked up until she was eighteen. With what she did, she was lucky she wasn’t charged as an adult, skipped juvie and went right to prison.

Once she was released that final time, Rev brought her to Manning Grove—using the excuse she wasn’t welcome at their parents’ home—because there was no fucking way she’d ever go back to Coatesville, this house and their father.

Over Rev’s dead body.

He’d felt guilty leaving her behind in the first place. But his parents never would’ve tolerated him taking Sarah with him. He would’ve ended up charged with child abduction and, once found, she would’ve been delivered right back into their hands.

Hishands.

The hands that doled out punishment for every minor infraction. Even imagined ones. The hands that doled out different punishments to his daughter than his son.

Rev struggled to breathe as he stared sightlessly across the barren kitchen. Nothing was ever left out unless the item was in use. The counters were clear, the table was empty, the walls were bare except for another cross. None of the crosses in the house were the kind with a crucified Jesus. None were fancy. They consisted of only two strips of polished wood.

The house was not full of knickknacks or decorations. No family photos. No drawings or crafts made by their children were displayed. Plain curtains were used only to block the sun or to give the family privacy. Or to be pulled to avoid seeing what her husband was doing to her son in the backyard.

Was it to fight the temptation to go out and stop him? Or was it because she believed Michael was getting what he deserved?

Or was it because if she intervened, she would take his place and receive the lashes instead of him? Of course, with some additional strikes added on to the number for stepping out of her place.

He wondered how many times his father had made his mother bare her back so he could paint stripes on her skin with a switch. All with the excuse to remind her on how to be a good wife.

Or did she marry him already trained to serve him? Trained by her own father like Michael’s father had been “training” Sarah?

Everyone in their church seemed to look the other way when it came to things like that. Like it was normal. When it wasn’t.

None of it was normal.

It was all fucked up.

All of it.

He made fun of the Shirleys and their cult-like ways, but in truth, he had grown up in a community no better than theirs.

Unlike the Shirleys, they did not hide and keep to themselves, they walked among the greater community. Their secrets hidden in plain sight.

Their children constantly complimented for being so well-behaved.

Until they weren’t.

Until they acted out. Until they fought the chains that bound them.

Until they fought to be free from the restraints forced on them by their parents, grandparents and the members of their order.

Those disobedient children were prayed over.

And when that didn’t work, they were punished.

Brought to heel.

The rod was not spared but instead used generously.

It was also highly encouraged.

Rev squeezed his eyes shut and simply breathed as a hand pressed to the center of his back, grounding him. Bringing him back to the situation at hand.

Which was his mother. Stepping closer. Inspecting him. Seeing the multiple piercings in his ears. The hoop in his nose.

The forbidden tattoos that covered his hands. He had worn a long sleeve T-shirt but it was impossible to hide the tattoos that spilled past his cuffs and onto the backs of his hands.

She would probably drop to her knees and ask for God’s forgiveness if he whipped off his shirt and she saw what was underneath.

Not scars from his father’s punishment. But different types of markings. More of what was already revealed. What she only got a glimpse of. The marks his father left behind on his back now mostly gone and the very bold statement of who he was, where he now belonged, in their place.

He chose not to join the fellowship his parents groomed him for, but instead a fellowship of another type. A brotherhood that stood stronger together than apart.

Also full of secrets. But nothing like the secrets kept within this house.

Within their church.

Within their minds.

She did not hide her disgust, or the fact that she was judging him, when she said, “Leviticus 19:28, Michael. Have you forgotten by accident or by choice?”

Ye shall not make any cuttings in your flesh for the dead, nor print any marks upon you.

“On purpose, Mother mine.”

Her mouth tightened and her blue eyes narrowed. Yeah, there was no doubt where he got his eyes from. Only his weren’t so damn judgmental.

“You are not welcome here, Michael.”

He shrugged “Ain’t a surprise.”

“So then, you will leave.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Brother Matthew, see your nephew out,” she ordered.

“I won’t, Sister. I had a purpose when I asked him here.”

“To create problems. John doesn’t need this stress right now. His passing over should be peaceful.”

Rev hoped to fuck it was anything but. The real reason why he came. Why he was putting himself through this. Bringing himself back to a past he’d left far behind.

She turned and headed back to the stove, clearly dismissing them.

Reilly tugged on his arm. “Maybe we should go, Rev.”

“Rev?” His mother spun back around, a wooden spoon in her hand, her face now showing some emotion. Disbelief. “Are you a Reverend now? What church allows all those tattoos and piercings?” She pointed the spoon in his direction and waved it up and down. “The marks of the devil.”

“His wife said it’s a nickname since he’s an auto mechanic, Sister.” Matthew still trying to be the Schmidt family whisperer.

“Rev your engine,” Reilly explained weakly next to him, still gripping his elbow.

“That’s not an appropriate name,” she said sharply. “What kind of name is that?”

“One I chose and you did not.”

Her head snapped back and her words became extra crispy, just like he liked his fucking fried chicken. “We gave you the perfectly good name of Michael, the archangel. The great protector and leader of God’s army to defeat the forces of evil. But you have become one of them, haven’t you?” Disappointment filled his mother’s face. There was the mother he used to know and tried to love. “You have chosen the wrong path. I always knew you would. I knew you would never grow up and be worthy of that name.” She sniffed. “Maybe it’s better you don’t use it.”

He hadn’t used it since he was ten. He insisted all his friends call him Mickey. Only his parents, his extended family and the members of their church used the name Michael. Or Brother Michael.

He hated it. He even stopped answering to that name in school. The teachers finally relented and began to call him Mickey, too.

He kept that name until Trip rolled into town and resurrected the Bloody Fury. When he became a prospect, they called him Mouse, a stupid play on the name Mickey. And once he was patched in, he got to decide for himself. Dutch said the name Mickey was for a pussy and he needed a more manly road name.

One day at the garage he was revving an engine and Dutch decided to bitch about it. The more he bitched, the more Rev gunned the engine. That was when the idea to use the road name Rev popped into his head. Rev not only liked it but knew it would annoy Dutch, so it stuck.

“The devil has always been inside you. We tried to remove you from his clutches. We tried to help you but you resisted us at every turn. Starting when you were very young. If I told you to look up, you looked down. If I told you to turn left, you turned right. If I told you to keep your Sunday clothes clean, you purposely got them dirty. Pure evil.”

Reilly’s grip moved from his elbow to his wrist and she tugged. “We should go, Rev.”

“Didn’t do what I came here to do. Not leaving ’til that’s done,” he murmured, not taking his eyes off his mother and the item in her hand.

Instead of asking about his intentions, his mother rushed back across the kitchen with the wooden spoon, making Rev’s head snap up, his spine stiffen and his breath seize.

He couldn’t help but close his eyes as he braced to feel the pain associated with that familiar tool of punishment. Usually used when he said something out of line in the kitchen while she was cooking. Or when he wasn’t moving fast enough while setting the table or washing the dishes. Or when he tried to sneak some food.

But instead of feeling the impact of the spoon, Reilly’s grip was torn from his arm. He opened his eyes to see his mother tightly holding Reilly’s left hand.

He saw what his mother saw. No wedding band on Reilly’s finger.

“Traveling with a woman who’s unmarried. Who also bears a mark.” His mother dropped Reilly’s hand and swept her hair away from her scar, staring at it for far too long. “The devil’s mark.”

Reilly yanked her head away, pulling her hair free from his mother’s fingers. “That’s right. That mark was made by a devil. One who died for his sins,” Reilly said sharply.

Rev grabbed her hand and intertwined their fingers, pulling her back into his side. “Didn’t bring her here for you to insult her.”

“You shouldn’t have brought that jezebel here at all. You have dishonored us and this home by allowing an unclean woman into my house. Uninvited.”

“We were invited,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Sister, he says they’re married and are blessed with four children.”

“Then she bore those poor children out of wedlock. I see no commitment band on her finger. That means she’s available for any man. She’s not committed to her husband.”

It was laughable, judging children who didn’t exist. Judging Reilly and Rev’s relationship when there wasn’t one.

“It’s what you don’t see that matters most,” Rev said, making a point that his mother probably wouldn’t pick up on.

“You always thought you knew better than your parents. But the truth is, if you did, you wouldn’t have come here. You would’ve stayed wherever you came from.”

“I’m happy to see you, too, Mother. And now I will go see the person I came here for.”

Rev spun on his boot and tugged Reilly with him out of the kitchen, hearing his mother’s words in his wake. “He doesn’t want you here, either.”

“Go sit in the truck, Reilly,” he growled as he took long strides toward the sitting room, dragging her along.

Her hand tightened in his. “No. You’re outnumbered.”

“Nothing new.”

“Brother Michael,” Matthew called from the end of the hall.

Rev spun back toward him. “The words you said to me on the phone were not the truth.”

Matthew’s lips thinned out. “I thought they were, nephew. God forgive me, clearly I was wrong.”

Clearly.