Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

THOMAS

I now knew why nobody stayed in the fucking Hamptons once the summer was over. New York City was cold, but this shit was ridiculous.

It didn’t help that it was the middle of the night, and I was sneaking around the Astrid's vacation home.

As God was my witness, I tried to let it go. Part of me even took some gratification in knowing that I was taking my little angel away from the man who had tried and failed to claim her. There were just too many loose ends, though, too many variables.

For my plans to work, I needed her unwed and at my beck and call. That meant I had to get rid of the boyfriend. In a way he couldn’t come back from.

I checked with a few of the maids that were employed at my brother’s place. They were all too happy to call the maids that worked for the Astrids, getting some details. All it required was a little donation on my part. Not even a lot, only four hundred dollars. Which made me wonder, how poorly were these maids paid?

Within three hours, I had the address of their Hamptons estate, as well as some very key information. The gardener’s parents, normally in charge of the estate’s grounds, had saved up for years and were finally taking a holiday. They weren’t even going anywhere impressive for Christmas. Just a trip down south to visit family.

Pathetic.

Their son, however, had come out to the Hamptons to monitor the estate while they were away. He never went into the estate’s main house because there were too many cameras. Instead, the maid suspected he would spend the entire time in the garage apartment, playing video games and getting high.

My little angel had absolutely terrible taste in men.

Sneaking around the gate was easy enough. Disabling the security for the main house only required me to flip two switches. Even if it gave an alarm to the Astrids’ house in New York City, it would take them hours to get here, and given Mary Quinn's snobbery, it was unlikely connected to the local police department.

Besides, I knew for a fact that Mary Quinn and her husband were at some gala pretending not to be terrible fucking people. They were no doubt talking about supporting the opera, or a playhouse, or some art collection, or some other asinine thing that they wouldn’t remember by the morning.

Once the cameras were disabled, I walked straight up to the garage, tested the door that was unlocked, and just walked right the fuck in.

That was where I found him. Raul. The other man in my little angel’s life, who had unwittingly ruined far too many plans already.

The asshole was so focused on his video game, his headphones blaring, that he didn’t even notice me there. It wasn’t until he reached across his body to get another hit from his bong that he realized he wasn’t alone.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asked, looking me up and down. “Halloween is over, fucker.”

It always amazed me how many people thought that the black-on-black ensemble with the priest collar around my neck was a Halloween costume. Then again, I didn’t look like an average priest.

“It’s not a costume. I am Father Manwarring—yes, those Manwarrings,” I added when there was a glimmer of recognition at my name.

“Okay…”

“Mrs. Astrid should have called to inform you I was coming? I need to collect a few things for an auction. She sent me up here to fetch them. I was told you have a key?”

“Uh, yeah. No problem, Father,” he said, standing and brushing the Cheetos dust and God only knew what else from his hands and his pants as he tried to make himself presentable, knocking over his bong and spilling its rancid water all over the carpet in the process.

I looked at it then back at him, raising an eyebrow.

“If I promise to go to confession, can we not tell Mrs. Astrid about the?—”

I raised my hand to stop him.

“As long as I can get what I need, your sins are your own. I have no interest in telling Mrs. Astrid anything she doesn’t need to know.”

“Thanks.” He smiled and led me downstairs.

As much as this collar felt like a noose, sometimes it was very helpful and persuaded people to do exactly what I wanted.

Once we got to the ground floor, I picked up a shovel that was propped against the garage wall, swung it straight at Raul’s head. With a satisfying thwack, he made a grunting noise and fell to the ground.

Then, it became time for the actual work.

I grabbed his unconscious body, first checking to make sure he was still alive. His pulse was strong and steady, so I linked my arms under his armpits and moved him over to a workbench deeper in the garage.

After getting him situated, I set up what I needed. Thankfully, the garage, where most of the gardening equipment was stored, was extremely clean. Raul’s father ran a tight ship, and I could appreciate that. Every tool had its place on the wall, secured with hooks or ties. There was plenty of space for me to set up the little travel-size tripod and light that I had picked up at a convenience store earlier that day.

I usually found social media tedious. No one cared what anyone had for breakfast, but sometimes, the tools of that particular trade were useful.

I set my phone into the tripod and set it to record. The bright light pointed at Raul’s face would not only make sure that he was well-captured in the video, but hopefully between the light and the concussion he would be a little disoriented.

While I waited for him to wake up, I took stock of lover boy. He was handsome enough, in a frat-boy jock, corn-fed kind of way. Blond hair, blue eyes… I understood why my little angel may have fallen for him. But he really didn’t seem like much. His clothing, his mannerisms, even the junk food, weed, and football video game were all just so mind-numbingly predictable.

It couldn’t have been any more cliche if I had walked in on him getting a blow job from a cheerleader Barbie.

This, this was the man that my angel had given her virtue to? No, it had to be a mistake. There was no way that someone so simple could have had someone so awe-inspiring.

I did not have time for this, and the more I looked at him, the more annoyed I got. She said she loved him. She had plans to run away with him. He was nothing.

Patience was a virtue, and normally it was one of the few that I cultivated, but I couldn’t be in the same room with him anymore. I went over to his lax body, grabbed him by the hair, and pulled him to a sitting position, slapping his face until he woke up.

“What, what’s happening?” he said, looking around like an idiot and then trying to shield his eyes from the light.

“What is your relationship with Rose Astrid?” I demanded.

“What business is it of yours?” he sneered, not fully recognizing the position he was in.

“What is your relationship?” I barked again, this time pulling the gun I had tucked in my jacket out and pulling back the hammer.

With the light shining in his face, I doubted he could see it, but I knew he recognized the sound of that click.

“Nothing man, nothing real anyway. It was just a scam.”

“What kind of scam?”

“Nothing. I just made her think I loved her or whatever and that she and I would run away and get married.” His face got paler by the minute, and he started to actually sweat. It only took seconds to break him. This was just pathetic. I put the gun away.

“Were you going to run away and get married?”

“Yeah, of course, but like, it was just a scam. I was going to get her to marry me, stay married for like maybe a year, maybe knock her up or something, and then bounce.”

“You were planning on leaving her with a child?”

“I mean, if I had to. Once I got her to agree to a date to elope, I was going to tell her mom and see if her mom would pay me off. If she wasn’t going to, then yeah, I was going to marry her, knock her up and then file for divorce, leave the kid with my parents and make her pay like child support and alimony and shit. It’s not like the Astrids actually need all that fucking money.”

Jesus Christ, even his scam lacked originality.

“So, like, I told you what you needed to know. You going to let me go?”

“Why would I do that?” I asked, not bothering to point out that I had never tied him up. All he had to do was to stand.

“Because I told you what you wanted to know. I’m assuming that bitch Mary Quinn Astrid is the one that sent you. Probably sent you to get the truth out of me so she can just pay me off and make me go away.”

“Mary Quinn doesn’t know about this,” I said.

“Then why are you here? Why do you care?”

“I’m here for Rose.”

He scoffed. He actually rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“No, you’re not. That bitch wouldn’t dare. She’s too hung up, too addicted to my dick, to think I was pulling anything over her. She’s just some dumb rich bitch princess.”

His words ignited a rage in my body that was almost as intense as the hatred and loathing I felt for Mary Quinn... Almost.

I could play games with Rose, I could mess with her head, take her body, own her pleasure, because I was at the very least her equal. In breeding, in class, education, and intelligence. This asshole could have been a royal fucking blueblood, and he still wouldn’t be good enough for my angel.

“So what’s the plan? What’s the scam?”

“Excuse me?” What the fuck was he on now?

“Well, I know you ain’t no Manwarring. It’s that other bitch who married the only Manwarring son. I thought for a second you might be like a cousin or something, but then why would you be here? Why would you care? So what’s your scam? Did you want in on this shit? You want me to cut you in?” He squinted his eyes and looked me up and down.

“No, I have no interest in your scam.”

“Dude, you didn’t even have to go through all this work. You wanted to scam the bitch for money, all you had to do was fuck the mom. Fuck, since the summer I was sixteen, I made an extra five grand a month letting her suck my dick. It’s easy fucking money. She’d probably go for you. I know she ain’t as much to look at as her daughter but turn her over and you can’t really tell.”

I took the gun back out of my pocket and pulled back the hammer, ready to end this miserable son of a bitch’s life.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, I told you what you needed to know,” he argued.

“So?”

“So, I told you so you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Did I say I wouldn’t hurt you?” I asked. “Don’t worry, I’m a priest. I’ll forgive your sins before your soul goes straight to hell.”

Panic finally set in, and this asshole realized what was happening. By some cosmic intervention, he realized he wasn’t tied down. He got to his feet and rushed me. He was still high, still disoriented, making him slow and clumsy.

I stepped aside, and he ran straight into the pitchfork that was tied to the wall.

The sharp stainless steel tines of the fork stabbed him straight through the neck. His eyes were still wide as he gripped the tines of the pitchfork, trying to pull himself off.

By the way the blood was pouring down his body, I knew he’d be dead in seconds.

I grabbed the light and my phone, turning them both off. Then, as the light faded from his eyes, I made the sign of the cross over his body, and I left.

Sometimes, you didn’t need to get your hands dirty. Sometimes, I thought maybe God was watching. I wasn’t arrogant enough to think he was on my side, but maybe he hated Mary Quinn as much as I did.