Chapter Four

  I went to a sink in the corner. There were several mugs and a kettle on the counter, and I filled a cup with water.

  “Here.” I passed it to the priest.

  “Thank you.” He took it, drank deeply, and then handed the cup back.

  As I too had a drink, he stood. “What’s it like out there?”

  “Terrible.”

  He shook his head and frowned. “Mother of Mercy.” He crossed his chest. “What has London done to deserve this?”

  “I don’t know. It’s horrible.”

  “Nothing is sacred. Not even the Lord’s house.”

  “I agree.”

  He opened the door of a large oak wardrobe and pulled out a cassock. “We should pray,” he said, then slipped it over his head.

  “Well … I…” Praying wasn’t usually my thing.

  “We have much to be thankful for, we are alive.” He said, setting his steely attention on me. “Plus we must ask the Lord for direction. What to do next. His wisdom will shine the light.”

  “What to do next? I suggest we stay holed up in here and keep quiet.”

  “Mmm … we’ll see.”

  “What do you mean?” Panic went through me. Surely Father Duncan couldn’t be suggesting going out onto the streets? That was sheer madness.

  He straightened the black material that now hung around him, and touched the white collar at his neck. “I’m not sure what I mean yet.” He lifted a beaded rosary from the counter and slipped it on. “Come, child. Your soul will be cleansed by His love.”

  I was about to object, but stopped myself. He was probably right, my soul did need cleansing. Having hot sex with a man who saw no problem impersonating a priest and robbing a church was not exactly wholesome. Though was it really my fault I’d enjoyed it? Or that I thought Steve was one of the most deliciously sinful men I’d ever had an encounter with?

  As I followed Father Duncan out into the main body of the church, I wondered where Steve was now. What he was doing? Was he nearly home, and looking forward to lounging in bed with his money all around him? Had he dropped off at a bar to have a pint? Huh, as if bars would be open on a night like this. They’d likely been looted and ransacked, smashed up beyond all recognition.

  Father Duncan seemed to glide rather than walk as he approached the altar with his head bent and his hands clasping the rosary. He dropped to his knees before the effigy of Christ and began to mumble.

  I stared at his back, wondering what he expected me to do.

  A sudden loud bang, from outside, rattled around the pews.

  It was quickly followed by another, on the door this time.

  I pressed my hand to my chest and turned to stare at the huge oak door.

  The church had been noticed by the gangs. Someone had spotted the door that had been previously tucked out of view in the shadows, keeping us safe.

  Voices now. Shouting, riled up, looking for a way in.

  My heart rate trebled. The big bad wolf was outside and we were in a house made of sticks. No amount of praying would save us.

  “Oh shit.” I staggered to the left as the tip of an axe shattered through the door. This was it. They were here, the mobs braying for blood. “Father, get up. Please, you can’t stay there.”

  Again the axe crashed through, splintering the wood, the silver tip sending terror through me.

  “Now,” I said, rushing up and gripping his shoulder. “We have to hide.”

  He turned to me, his eyes glazed.

  “Please.” I looked at the door again. The small room I’d found Father Duncan in offered little protection but it was the best I could think of. “Come on.”

  Finally he stood, though there seemed to be no hurry to his movements.

  The door was fractured now. The manic voices and cheers easily pouring through the splits.

  The priest looked at it and shook his head. “Five hundred years that door has kept the flock safe, and now look, destroyed in seconds.”

  “Just like we will be. Is there anywhere else to hide?”

  “Yes.” He glanced over his shoulder. “This way, child.”

  “Hey, it’s a church. I bet there’ll be loads to nick. Gold and shit like that.” A deep menacing voice came from the other side of the broken door.

  “Hurry,” I said, my blood turning cold.

  He took my hand, and with a sudden spurt of energy led me past the altar.

  A huge tapestry hung to the right. The faded picture embroidered on it depicted the Virgin Mary holding Jesus as a child, and they were surrounded by kneeling women and lambs.

  “In here.” He pulled the heavy material aside. “Hold this.”

  I saw another door, small, as if made for people of barely five feet tall. Again it was made of wood with wrought iron furniture.

  “Why didn’t you hide in here last time?” I asked as he flicked the latch and opened it.

  “I didn’t have a chance to. That imposter, God have mercy on his soul, surprised me.”

  “Oh, I see.” And yes, Steve did need mercy on his soul. He was a bad man even though he was a damn good fuck. A small tremor went up my spine. When all this was over I’d replay that moment of him taking me to heaven and back. Was it wrong to have enjoyed it so much? Was it wrong to not be utterly mortified now that I knew he was no better than the men breaking into this church at this moment?

  I had no time to extend my thoughts. Father Duncan pressed his hand into the small of my back and all but shoved me through the door.

  I stooped to prevent banging my head, and then straightened in what appeared to be a small circular room with stone walls. I glanced upward, several ropes hung down and a huge brass bell gaped down at me. We were in a bell tower.

  Father Duncan joined me and shut the door.

  It didn’t have a lock. Just a latch. Not even a bolt.

  “Do you think we’ll be safe?” I asked, backing up so my shoulders hit the cold wall.

  “If they don’t tear down the tapestry.”

  Relying on that fact didn’t sit well with me.

  A huge splintering crash coming from outside signaled the mob had breached our safe haven.

  I pressed my hand over my mouth to hold back a scream. Panic gripped me in its tight fist. It was hard to breathe, hard to focus on the priest who was once more praying with his eyes closed and worrying his rosary.

  I looked up again, wondering if there was a way out that way, or maybe another place to hide.

  Nothing.

  What if they set the church on fire? We’d be trapped.

  More crashing. Jeering. Crazy whoops of delight. The church was being trashed. Ancient and sacred artifacts destroyed. The peaceful place where parishioners had come to worship no longer a sanctuary of love. Now it was full of hate, belligerence, and disregard.

  I shivered, the tremble going from my toes, up my bare legs, to my naked ass and through my guts.

  I wished I had a big tough guy with me rather than Father Duncan. No wonder he’d been tied up and robbed. He was passive, distracted by God, his faith in a higher deity when really he should have been fighting for his life.

  I wished Steve hadn’t left the church. If he’d stayed and this mob had broken in, at least we’d have had one person with a bit of street sense and muscle.

  Steve was definitely the type of bloke who’d be able to stick up for himself. Likely had been all his life. I knew the sort in the East End. Ducking and diving, having to get his fists out to survive. Hell, he’d probably stolen the money to survive too.

  Who was I kidding? He was a common thief who’d taken the opportunity for a quick fuck.

  What a charmer?

  Still, it would be nice to have him in here with us, right now. I’d bet he’d have a plan or at least some kind of idea about what to do.

  I wrapped my arms around my body and hugged myself. The shouts and cries were louder now. As though the rioters had reached the altar. I tried to make out how many there were; two, three maybe. Too many for me to take on even if I was a goddamn karate expert—which of course I wasn’t.

  An ear splitting crash told me the stained glass window had been shattered.

  I held in a squeal.

  Father Duncan’s shoulders twitched but he kept his eyes closed, his lips moving silently. He looked old and frail, as if life had made him jaded and he was ready to say goodbye to the physical world.

  “Hey, there’s a door here.” A rough, sandpapery voice that was also slightly slurred as though the owner had been drinking.

  “Oh God…” I stared, wide-eyed, at the latch. I prayed it wouldn’t move, that it would stay sat neat and inert.

  Of course that didn’t happen.

  It lifted. The door opened.

  A man peered in. His eyes blazed with excitement, his cheeks red, and when he saw me he let out a whistle of delight. “Hey, Robbie, we’ve got us some fun times in here.”

  Another man appeared at his shoulder. He had dark skin and wore a red baseball cap. “Oh yeah. Praise the Lord we’ve got a pretty one to have some fun with.”

  I gulped. My saliva bitter. Was I going to vomit?

  “Father…” I whispered, wondering if the man at my side would save me. “Please…”

  He remained stock-still, his thoughts clearly taken up with the words he was saying to God.

  “Come to daddy,” the first man said, holding out his hand.

  “No, fuck off.” I pressed harder against the wall. “Now.”

  “Don’t be like that, angel.” He ducked and came into the room. He wasn’t especially tall, about my height.

  I balled my fists. “Get out of here. Leave me alone.”

  “I don’t think so.” He sneered at me and took in my outfit. “Not when I’m hard and ready to go.”

  In a flash he was over me, his hands on the wall either side of my head.

  He stank of sweat and beer, the evil in his eyes scared me half to death. He was going to rape me, I knew that. Was murder in his thoughts too?

  “Yeah, you do her first, and then I’ll have a go.” The dark skinned man said, looming at his right and grinning sickeningly.

  “You’ll burn I hell,” I said, my voice shaky.

  “Yeah, well, I like the heat,” the man trapping me in said. “So I reckon I’m well set up for being mates with the devil.”

  He pressed his mouth to mine in a disgusting, sloppy kiss.

  I cried out, squirmed, and shoved at him.

  “Ah you want it really, whore.” He dragged my skirt up, exposing my bare pussy.

  “And she’s ready for it,” the other man said. “Why don’t we fuck her at the same time. I don’t mind taking her ass.”

  “Nah, I’ll have her ass.” He spun me around, whacking my cheek against the stone wall.

  I kicked backward, and tried to jab my elbow at him, too. But the other man was there now. They were both pinning me down, their hands roaming my body, touching my breasts, and my ass cheeks.

  I shut my eyes and screamed. It came right from the very core of my soul. White-hot, electric terror burned through me. It seared my nerves, blazed through my brain. I hated these men. I hadn’t known what hate was before this moment, but now I knew it felt like acid in my veins.

  A sudden roar filled the small room. It penetrated my eardrums and whirled around my horror-filled brain.

  What was it?

  Father Duncan? Had he come to his senses and decided to fight for my honor?

  One set of hands left me.

  A huge crash, the sound of bone hitting the wall.

  “Who the fuck are you?” The second set of hands lifted, as did the weight of a chest pinning me in place.

  I spun around, opening my eyes as I did so.

  A huge man, dressed all in black, slung my short attacker to the right. His body collided with the wall, surprise on his face.

  Steve.

  He’s back.

  His face was full of fury, his teeth gritted and his eyes flashing.

  I pressed my hands to my mouth. What the hell was he doing here?

  Chapter Five

  Steve continued to beat on the man he’d just slung against the wall. The long black sleeves of his cassock flapping wildly, and his heavy boots making contact with limbs and torso.

  Suddenly the other man sprang back to life. He hurled himself at Steve.

  Steve twirled around, aiming a deft right hook with precision.

  The man’s head snapped backward, a burst of blood sprayed from his lip.

  “Raping bastard,” Steve shouted. “I’ll teach you.”

  “What the fuck are you? A ninja priest.” The black man said, going for a jab at Steve’s sternum.

  “Yeah, you’re going to wish that’s all I was.”

  Steve ducked and evaded a punch going for his temple, then fired off several that rendered his opponent unconscious on the floor.

  I was shaking so much my body didn’t feel like mine. I looked at the other man, his head had slumped to the side and drool leaked from his lips. His cock lay flaccid from his open zipper.

  Steve frowned, his dark eyebrows pulling low, and looked at me. “You okay?”

  “Yes … No.”

  “Which is it?”

  “They were going to…”

  “I know.” He stepped up to me, reached for my skirt and pulled it downward, covering my nakedness. “I should cut their dicks off.”

  A sob bubbled up from my chest. Steve was a thief and liar but I’d never been so glad to see an East End rogue in all of my life.

  “Hey.” He dragged me against him—a rough hug that seemed to absorb me into his body.

  I gripped his cassock and leaned onto him. If he hadn’t shown up when he had I’d be being raped and buggered right now, likely left for dead so I couldn’t identify my attackers.

  “Stop that,” he said, squeezing me tighter. “They won’t hurt you now.”

  “What … what are you doing here?”

  He pulled back and looked down at my face. “I might be a complete bastard,” he said, “but the further I got from this church the more I realized that I’d left you to the dogs.”

  “Why? What’s going on out there?”

  “Carnage. A woman on her own, as you said earlier, doesn’t stand a chance.”

  I shivered. “So now what?”

  “Now I’ve got to get you out of here.”

  “Okay.” I had no other option. There would be more like the two who had just attacked me. Staying wasn’t something I could entertain, neither was leaving without Steve.

  I gestured to Father Duncan who still was praying with his eyes shut as if in some kind of celestial trance. “What about him?”

  Steve huffed. “He can figure it out on his own.”

  “But—”

  “He was going to stand by and watch those bastards do hideous things to you. A defenseless woman. I think he deserves everything he gets here on Earth and when he gets to the Pearly Gates.”

  Part of me agreed but still … I didn’t like the thought of leaving Father Duncan.

  “And when I got here earlier,” Steve said, “he was emptying that safe into this bag.” He tapped the rucksack on his back that I now noticed was hidden beneath his cassock. “He had a passport in his hand. It was pretty obvious he was doing some looting of his own. I was just redirecting that cash for more worthy causes.”

  I frowned. “What causes?”

  “My causes.” He grabbed my hand. “Come on.”

  “Steve.”

  “What?”

  I paused.

  “What?” he asked again.

  “You’re not a priest, are you?”

  “You know damn well I’m not.” He laughed. “And it took you a while to figure that one out.”

  I frowned. “Bastard.”

  “Yeah well.” He shrugged. “Right now, I’m all you got, bastard or not.”

  I nodded. “I know. And … thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For coming back for me.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. We gotta get about two miles east before we can relax.” He bent down and rummaged in the black man’s pocket. He pulled something out.

  “What’s that?”

  “We might need it.” Whatever it was he’d tucked it under his cassock before I could identify it.

  I threw a last glance at Father Duncan, then Steve urged me out of the small bell tower.

  The altar looked nothing like it had before, the bible was sprawled on the floor, the tapestry torn and pulled half off its hooks. What appeared to be red wine had been slung at Jesus and dripped from his toes like watery blood.

  I shuddered, though as I did so the scent of smoke drifted toward me.

  “Quick,” Steve said, “Let’s go.”

  The front door of the church was open and I rushed down the aisle, trying to keep up with what was now my only hope. I didn’t want to go back out there, into the darkness where danger lurked in every shadow, but I had no option.

  We paused at the doorway, it was darker now, the wind having blown out the candles in the church. Outside smoked danced on the breeze. Where the fire was, or rather fires, were I didn’t know, but their presence was evident.

  Footsteps came from the right. Fast. Running. Slapping on the wet cobbles.

  A man, dressed all in black and wearing a balaclava raced past. He paid us no notice.

  I wondered what he was running from.

  “This way,” Steve tugged me to the right.

  “That way? Really?”

  “Yeah, come on.”

  I hesitated.

  “You’re going to have to trust me,” Steve said, frowning and tightening his grip on my fingers. “Or I can just leave you here, alone.”

  “No. No, don’t do that.” I gripped his biceps. “I’m coming with you.”

  “Good.” He stepped from the archway.

  I followed and we stuck to the shadows, hoping not to draw attention to ourselves. But there was no one about, not in the immediate vicinity. Though the riotous crowd was only a street or two away. The cheers and yells, breaking glass, and a helicopter, no doubt police, filled my ears.

  We reached the end of the street, where I’d been heading earlier when the first creep I’d encountered took my bag.