The Angel (The Original Sinners) (3 page)

Kingsley had a fascinating relationship with the
press—fascinating in the way the sack of Rome by invading Barbarian hordes was
fascinating. A reporter once threatened to run a story exposing one of
Kingsley’s clients—an internationally renowned human-rights attorney—as a
transvestite with multiple sexual fetishes. Two nights before the story ran, a
sex tape that the reporter and her husband had made played in an endless loop on
every computer in their six-year-old’s exclusive private school. The video was
unremovable. All two hundred computers had to be scrapped and replaced.

The story never ran.

“I’d rather not resort to any of Kingsley’s methods to keep our
private life private,” Søren said. Søren might be a sadist but he only hurt
people consensually. “But his information is often invaluable. Rest assured,
Eleanor, I will find a way to avoid becoming the next bishop. That is not why I
called you both here.”

“I’m already dying not to know why you called us here,” Nora
said. Something in Søren’s gray eyes warned her that whatever he was about to
say, she wasn’t going to like it.

“You and Michael are the only two members of Sacred Heart who
know who and what I am. The press will come, and they will ask questions. I
cannot ask either of you to lie for me. And as I know neither of you will tell
the truth when asked—”

“Damn straight,” Michael said under his breath, and Nora said a
prayer of thanks for Michael’s loyalty. She knew Michael credited Søren with
saving his life. She’d never heard the whole story, but she knew Søren had
risked his career by telling Michael the truth about himself and his
relationship with Nora. The night she and Michael spent together over a year ago
was Søren’s reward to Michael for going an entire year without harming himself
again. Although an unusually wise and mature teenager then and now, Michael had
been fifteen the night she’d taken his virginity. Sixteen, not fifteen, was
legal age in Connecticut and New York, and that made their night together a
crime. She’d done the deed not knowing his age, but Søren had made the
introductions.

“Okay. So Michael and I aren’t allowed to lie about you? Vow of
silence then?”

Søren smiled. “You taking a vow of silence, Eleanor, is as
likely as you taking a vow of celibacy. No, I think it’s best that you both
leave town while this is going on. Together.”

Silence descended on the room like a shroud.

“Can I talk to you alone for one minute please, sir?” Nora
asked, and Søren released a much put-upon sigh.

“Michael, would you mind?”

Michael stood up and left the office.

“Are you insane?”

“Little one, who owns you?”

Nora sunk back into her chair.

“You, sir. But you really want—”

“Eleanor, if a reporter asked you if we were lovers what would
you do?”

“I’d tell him to mind his own goddamn business. Then I’d have
Kingsley freeze his credit cards and bank accounts for the week just for
fun.”

Søren raised his eyebrow.

“Okay. Point taken,” she said.

“I need to able to deal with this situation without worrying
about you. But the most important reason is Michael. He needs you.”

“Needs me for what?”

“What you are best at,” Søren said simply.

“You expect me to
train
Michael?”
Nora asked, aghast. “I was a pay-for-play dominatrix, remember? Training wasn’t
my area. Surely there’s someone else—”

“There’s no one else I trust. And no one else Michael trusts.
He starts college in the fall. This summer is our last chance to help him.”

Nora heard something underneath Søren’s words, and a shiver of
worry rippled through her. She hadn’t really talked to Michael since their one
night together, but she still cared about the kid.

“Help him? The last time I helped him it was because you were
afraid he was going to try to kill himself again. What’s wrong with
Michael?”

“Nothing I can tell you, I’m afraid.”

Sighing, Nora stood up and wandered over to the stained-glass
window that adorned the back wall of Søren’s office. Unlike the stained-glass
windows in the sanctuary, this window depicted no saints or biblical scenes but
instead a bursting bloodred rose. Nora traced one of the cool metal spokes of
the beautiful window with the tip of her finger.

“Søren, we’ve only been back together for a year,” she reminded
him, reluctant to leave him for a day much less the entire summer.

“I know, Eleanor.” Søren stepped behind her and wrapped his
arms around her stomach. “But you have to trust me, trust that I know what I’m
doing. I need you to help Michael. I need you to help me.”

I need you....
The infamous
underground community they belonged to universally considered Søren its top
dominant. Søren had even earned the nickname the Alpha and Omega Male. But those
words—
I need you
—had escaped his lips more times
than most who thought they knew him would believe. During their five years
apart, Nora would sometimes be awoken early in the morning by a phone call and
those three words from Søren. Although she had left him, she never told him no
on those rare occasions that he called. Sometimes even he could not rein in his
own dark desires.
I need you,
he would say, and Nora
would leave her bed and answer simply,
Okay. Tell me where
and when.

“Okay.” She answered that need now. “Where and when?”

“As soon as possible, I’m afraid. And I’ll leave the where to
you. I would only suggest you go far enough away that no one would attempt to
follow you.”

“England?” she asked. “Zach and Grace are trying to get
pregnant. This is something I can help them with. Or at least, you know,
watch.”

“Out of the question,” Søren said. “I know how you behave in
other countries. That you still are allowed a passport is one of the universe’s
great mysteries.”

“That was not my fault,” she reminded him. “The consulate
cleared me.”

“Eleanor…”

“Fine. We’ll go to Griffin’s,” she said. “He inherited his
grandparents’ old horse farm, and he’s been bugging me for months to visit.
How’s that?”

Søren heaved a labored sigh. “Griffin…”

Nora bit back a laugh. “Come on, Griffin’s okay. He’s one of my
best friends.”

“He’s spoiled, juvenile and a coward.”

He was also rich, gorgeous and great in bed, but she decided
not to remind Søren of those facts.

“You always call him a coward. Care to tell me why?” She turned
around in his arms.

“No. But I suppose even Griffin deserves a second chance.”

Although curious what Søren meant by a second chance, Nora knew
better than to ask. For a moment Søren stood in silence. He tapped his chin as
he always did when plotting something.

“I’ll allow you to spend the summer with Griffin,” Søren
finally said. “But he is not to touch Michael, or I will revoke both his key to
The 8th Circle and you from his life completely. Understood?”

Nora blanched. Serious threats indeed. “Yes, sir.”

“Where is his grandparents’ farm?”

“Way upstate,” she said. “Near Guilford.”

Søren looked at her sharply and his mouth twitched in
suppressed mirth.

“That area is rather close to where your mother is, isn’t it?”
he asked. “Perhaps you could take a day and visit her.”

“Don’t even think about it,” she said, horrified by the
prospect of Søren ordering her to visit her mother. “I’d rather go jogging in
hell. Wearing stilettos on a hot day in Aug—”

“Eleanor.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Your cleavage is chirping.”

Nora swallowed and pulled her cell phone from her bra where
she’d tucked it before Mass.

“Sorry. Forgot to turn it off.” Nora silenced the ringer.

Søren stared at her. Nora stared back. As usual, Søren won the
staring contest.

“It’s Wes,” she confessed, not even having to look at the
number. Sunday afternoon—always Wesley.

Søren studied her. This time she couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Does Wesley call you often?”

Nora nodded. “Once a week,” she admitted. “Every Sunday after
church.”

“And why is this the first time I’ve heard about this?”

“Doesn’t matter. I never answer.”

“Why don’t you answer the phone when Wesley calls?” Søren asked
her in the same tone he used in the confessional booth—lightly curious, not at
all condemning, and completely and utterly infuriating.

“Because you haven’t given me permission to.”

“You’ve never asked permission. Were you afraid I would tell
you no?”

Nora bit her bottom lip, a nervous habit Søren had been trying
to break her of since she was fifteen. Søren reached out and brushed his thumb
over her mouth. Nora looked up at him.

“I was afraid you’d tell me yes.”

Søren slowly nodded.

“I love you,” she said, standing up straight. “And I’ll leave
you this summer, but only because you’re making me go. But if they pick you to
be bishop, I’m going to move to L.A. and convert to Scientology. Fair
warning.”

Relief washed through her at the sight of Søren’s smile. But
she knew they weren’t done talking about Wesley.

“Michael’s waiting for you outside. I think he would appreciate
an explanation and a ride home.”

“I can do both,” she said and started for the door. She paused
before leaving and turned around. “Can’t believe I have to spend the whole
summer without you just because of this stupid promotion.”

Søren said nothing but Nora saw something flicker across his
eyes.

“It’s just the promotion, right?” she asked. “There isn’t
anything else, is there?” A sudden fear gripped Nora, a fear that Søren didn’t
want her around for some other reason.

“Kingsley called. Last night, someone broke into his town
house.”

Nora’s eyes widened.

“Is he okay? Was Juliette there? What happened?” Her heart
raced; Nora’s mind immediately flew to the worst-case scenario—that Kingsley and
his beautiful Haitian secretary were hurt.

“He and Juliette are both fine. They were…distracted last
night. Someone drugged the dogs and stole a file from Kingsley’s private
office.”

Nora collapsed into a chair. Whoever the thief was must have
balls of steel. Kingsley’s name alone usually scared off anyone who lusted after
a piece of the reams of blackmail material he had on nearly every cop, judge,
politician and lawyer in the tristate area. If his name didn’t scare off
thieves, then his well-trained rottweiler pack usually did.

“Just one file? That’s good at least.”

“Eleanor—it was your file.”

“Mine? Why mine? I’m not even a dominatrix anymore.” The words
hurt coming out, more than she expected. While she’d been a dominatrix in
Kingsley’s employ, she bitched about it constantly. Now that she’d quit, she
found she sort of missed it. Just another thing to add to her “miss every day”
list, a list that was growing dangerously long.

“I wish I knew, little one. Kingsley believes an old client
might be attempting to dispose of any evidence concerning him.”

“Makes sense, I guess.” Back in her dominatrix days, Nora’s
client roster read like a Who’s Who of the rich, famous and kinky; Fortune 500
CEOs, high-level politicians and rock stars had paid through the nose to kiss
the toe of her boot. “Doesn’t matter anyway. Whoever he is won’t be able to read
what’s in the file.”

Kingsley and Juliette were the perfect team. Kingsley’s files
were notorious for two reasons—first, they contained the secrets of an entire
city, and second, they were utterly unintelligible to anyone but Kingsley and
Juliette. Only they could read the pages written in encoded Haitian Creole.

“It’s the motivation, not the crime, that concerns me,” Søren
said. “Still, simply one more reason why you should spend some time away from
the city while Kingsley and I sort this out.”

“I could help sort things out if you’d let me. I’m not fifteen
anymore, remember?”

Søren stood up and came to her. He held out his hand and she
took it. Gently he pulled her to her feet and stared down into her eyes.

“You are my heart,” he said. He’d said those very words to her
that morning. But that morning they’d sounded affectionate and playful. Now he
said them as if he were stating a fact of anatomy. “I will not lose you. I’m
sending you away to keep you safe. Do you understand that? Say ‘Yes, sir.’”

Nora nodded and swallowed a sudden lump in her throat.

“Yes, sir.”

Søren bent his head and kissed her long and slow before pulling
back. Relaxing against him she put her ear to his chest. She loved hearing the
steady beat of his heart. She’d called Søren dangerous, and to those who crossed
him, he certainly was. Whoever it was who stole her file…she didn’t envy him.
But Søren was not evil. He had the best heart of any man she’d ever known. A
strong and good heart.

“My heart,” she whispered and gazed up at Søren.

“Rest assured, little one,” Søren said as he ran his hands
possessively from her neck down her back, “I may send you away, but I will give
you a goodbye that will hold you all summer.”

* * *

Michael waited outside of Father S’s office hoping that
was what he was supposed to be doing. He sat on the bench with his skateboard
under his feet and rolled it mindlessly back and forth while recalling every
word Nora and Father S had said. The priest who was going to be the next bishop
was being transferred. Father S was on the short list of candidates to be the
next bishop. Father S wanted him and Nora to go away for the summer. He was
supposed to spend the entire summer away with Nora Sutherlin.

The entire summer…with Nora Sutherlin…

Michael had dreams like that. Just last night he’d had a dream
like that.

Nora emerged from Father S’s office and smiled at him.

“Good, I’m glad you waited. Want a ride home?”