His list of sins reached a new high today but Noah McLean doubted God was still counting. When you kill people, move drugs around, and spend years screwing everything that moves, daydreaming of fucking Gia by the baptismal fountain at Holy Angels was minor. Minuscule. Modest.
Yet, he breathed better out and away from the house of worship.
The room had shrunk around him then, as did his bedroom now. And his pants. Gia stared out of the window and at the river view like she hadn’t seen it thousands of times. Not from your room.
“I guess it’s just normal to pop a federal agent and baptize children in the same hour.” Noah alternated between brooding and staring at Gia’s ass. He struggled to choose the less painful option.
Her marvelous ass, high on sculpted thighs, claimed his attention more. The view was obscured only by the pearly smile she shot him over her shoulder. It took over her face, her eyes, and his mood. Gia was a sharp ray of light in days filled with shadows.
“Agent Davies had it coming,” she said.
“Not disagreeing, but what the fuck are a bunch of criminals doing in church like devoted members of a parish?”
“Just because we do what’s necessary, it doesn’t make us bad people. Davies sold himself to our enemy. It’s his fault Carissa had to run and Nelly’s dead.” Her voice dropped at the end. The pain echoed still too fresh, her words only half accurate.
“Sebastian’s the one that killed Nelly.” God. Those words would always be a punch to his gut.
“Everyone will eventually get what’s coming to them.” She turned from the window and crossed the room in a few precise steps. “I hate this. We have better things to focus on.” Her breathy tone came laden with promises.
Noah’s world tilted and turned itself to face the sun, yanking him back into the moment, his room, where they were alone. His head, his body, his interest, his dick. Every part of him strained to salute her.