Chapter 48

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

FINNIGAN

I have been in more fights than I can count, lived through numerous gun fights with the Bratva, and thought I was going to watch as a bullet took the woman I love from me. Yet, pulling my bike to a stop in front of Our Lady of Grace this morning is the most terrifying thing I have ever done in my entire life.

Dismounting my bike, I slide off my helmet and place it on the seat as my phone buzzes in the front pocket of my jeans. When I pull it out, I find a text from Declan.

DECLAN

Don’t be a fucking twat

Really?

I poured my heart out to you last night and THIS is the brotherly advice you give me this morning.

Yes.

Don’t be fucking twat!

You know damned well you should’ve done this months ago.

I can’t even argue with him because I know he’s right.

Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I take my time walking up the front steps of the church as I gather my thoughts. I take a deep breath before placing my hand on the large wooden door and pushing it open.

It’s been a couple of months since I’ve stepped foot inside these doors. After the night I rescued Catlin and killed the Pakhan, my only other visit has been for the baptism of Rory and Kira. Entering the nave, I pause at the spot where I shattered the Pakhan’s skull, unable to find any evidence of what happened that night.

Continuing down the aisle, I make my way to the confessional. When I step inside, I kneel on the worn, tufted green cushion and smirk as I recall the last time I went to my knees here—with my face buried in Cat’s pussy as my naughty girl dripped down my chin and came all over my tongue. Breathing in the woodsy scent of the small room, I rest my elbows on the prayer ledge and sigh. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned, a fucking lot.”

“Finnigan Shay Evans,” Father O’Flaherty admonishes me from beyond the lattice screen.

“I’m kidding, Father. Well, sort of.” I laugh, knowing he probably doesn’t remotely appreciate my humor. Father O’Flaherty clears his throat, he’s definitely not amused with me, and prompts me to continue. “It has been far too long since my last confession.”

“Tell me your sins, son,” he prompts.

I ramble through my lesser sins, informing Father O’Flaherty of my vulgar mouth and my occasional excessive consumption of alcohol.

“I won’t go into detail, Father, but I have imbibed in carnal sins,”— a lot of fucking carnal sins —“for which I have no remorse or guilt.”

Especially not the fuck we had in the shower this morning as I got ready to head over here.

Shit.

Focus, Finn.

“While it was just and deserved, I have taken lives. Several of them.”

“And do you feel remorse for having taken a soul?”

“No,” I answer honestly. “They were soulless men, and I would do it again. I will do it again if I need to protect my family.”

Father O’Flaherty lets out a heavy sigh from behind the lattice screen separating us.

“My biggest sin of all is corrupting an innocent, for which I do not have an ounce of guilt,” I confess, my heart picking up and a rush of adrenaline coursing through me. “I love her more than life itself, and I want to make that commitment to her before God.”

The other side of the confessional is silent.

“I want to marry her and make her my wife, but I will not do it without your permission.”

The wood floor creaks on the other side of the thin wall, and the door to Father O’Flaherty’s side of the confessional slams shut.

What the hell?

He’s allowed to just walk out of my confession?

Quickly rising to my feet, I open my door to find Father O’Flaherty standing on the other side.

“I want to tell you no,” he informs me. Walking away from me he takes a seat in the nearest pew as he rambles, “I don’t think you’re good for her. You are a criminal and a relentless sinner. The lifestyle that you and your family leads clearly puts her in so much danger. In the short time you have known her, you have completely corrupted the sweet little girl I raised.”

I follow him, taking the seat beside him, and mutter, “I know.”

“As much as I hate to admit it,” he continues, “I have never seen Catlin as happy as she is when she’s with you. It is also very clear to me that you—and your family—will go through any lengths necessary to keep her safe.”

“We will,” I agree. “My brothers would lay down their lives for her as quickly as I would.”

“I want to tell you no, Finnigan,” he reiterates his stance. “But I’m going to put my faith in God. As much as it pains me to admit, in some convoluted grand plan that I’m not privy to, I believe he brought you into her life for a reason.”

“Did you just say yes?” I ask, in awe that he hasn’t yet condemned me to Hell or slugged me.

“Yes,” He nods. “I give you my permission to marry Catlin. But, so help me, if you ever hurt her, I will denounce my cloth and send you to Hell myself.”

And there it is…

He stands from the pew and gives me a fatherly pat on the shoulder. He begins to walk toward his office, and I call after him, “Father O’Flaherty? One more thing.”

“You’re really pushing your luck today, aren’t you, Finnigan?” he snarks.

“Probably,” I quip, rising to my feet. “But this one is equally as important.”