What do you think?
Rate this book


280 pages, Kindle Edition
First published December 15, 2023



All Francis had to do was befriend a killer. How hard could that be?
That doe-eyed smalltown priest wasn’t made for shit like this. He wasn’t going to survive. It was a fucking miracle he’d lived this long.
When he opened his eyes, Angel peered through narrowed lashes. “Do you pray for me, Father?”
“Yes.”
“I feel holier already. Let’s eat.”
Did he wake up one day and have an epiphany, a vision, or was it a gradual process? It seemed a waste, for someone as attractive as Scott to be taken out of the gene pool. Humanity’s loss.
“I’m going to fuckin’ ruin you, Father.”
A good guy like him? He’d probably vow to save Vitari’s soul. He could try, but Vitari’s soul was beyond saving. Perhaps Vitari would drag him down to Hell with him. Although considering the depth of pain in Father Scott’s eyes, he might already be there.

“Do not call me, do not think of me, you and I are done.”
“I wasn’t aware we’d begun,” the wicked man purred.
“You’re terrible.”
“I know. Tell me again, just let me get somewhere private so I can really enjoy it.”


What sin brought you here today? What made you seek God?” A soft pause. “You did,” he whispered.
He was so fucking perfect. Vitari had the sudden, savage urge to ruin him.
The rectangle of white collar was back around his neck, like a noose. Vitari imagined plucking it free for a second time, then he’d straddle Francis’s lap, tip his chin up, and kiss him. He’d kiss him until Francis’s eyes were no longer full of pain, until he was free of that noose. It was a stupid dream. Men like Vitari didn’t get happy endings. And they definitely didn’t get the good guys.
Wanting Vitari didn’t feel like a sin, didn’t feel wrong. Not anymore. In truth, it had never felt wrong. His head had gotten in the way of what his heart knew.
“I’m on my knees for you. I know you like me here. Ruin me, Francis.”
“Come to bed.” Francis swallowed, and that shy little smile lifted his lips, simultaneously thrusting a bullet through Vitari’s heart. Yeah, he’d fucking die for Father Francis Scott.
He wiped the wetness from his eyes, and as the sun rose over El Cristo’s blood-soaked streets, he cocked the gun, loading a round in the chamber, and vowed to Francis’s God that the Angel of Death would burn the world to save his priest.
“Will you take my confession?” Vitari asked, in his sly, mocking tone. Francis sighed, as though he were the one unburdening his soul. “You know I will.”