Ten years ago, I thought I’d given up my soul. I had. But not for the reasons I’d been telling myself. Beth was my soul. She was my heart and my breath. As I rode out of Crystal Falls, I felt the pain of her loss like a knife in the gut. How could I have been so stupid to think I could touch her again ... taste her ... and not want more?

Axle’s words were ominous. I’d tried to play it off in Beth’s living room, but she knew. She could see straight through me just like she always could. Bear was calling for a full meeting first thing in the morning. A few of the guys had already gotten their wives and women out of town. It was bad. I just prayed leaving Beth in Crystal Falls was the right thing.

I meant to get a quick shower and change of clothes as I pulled into my driveway off Cliffside Drive. I had a little place overlooking the dunes. Not an ocean view, but you could hear it this far out. My heart dropped when I saw the tan sedan parked at the curb. I pulled my Harley into the garage and drew my Nine.

The house was empty, but the sliding door to the wooden deck I’d built in the back stood open. Squaring my shoulders, I took a breath to steel myself against what I knew was coming.

“You trying to let all the flies in?” I asked, stepping out onto the deck. Father Sanchez sat cross-legged, staring out at the sandscape. He’d brought a bottle of wine and helped himself to one of my glasses. I’d asked Toby, one of the probies, to keep an eye on my place while I was gone. It probably took all of two seconds for Father Sanchez to get him to tell him where I kept the spare key.

“I’m trying to let the air in,” he said, sipping his wine. “It gets stuffy in there all closed up.”

I tossed my keys on the wrought iron patio table and took a seat beside him. Father Sanchez tilted the wine bottle toward me. He had an empty glass waiting. I waved it off.

“Ah,” he said. “Still only a sip of church wine on Sundays for you?”

I swallowed hard. “Something like that.” Of course, Diego Sanchez knew just how long it had been since I graced one of his pews at San Mateo’s.

“Well, you found me,” I said. Father never liked to be rushed. He stayed in control by staying silent. It was an old trick he used with parishioners. Let them do ninety-nine percent of the talking and they walk away thinking you’re wise as Yoda.

“I’ve been worried about you, son,” he said.

“I’d have thought you had a congregation full of souls to save, Father. You know mine’s a lost cause.”

He laughed softly and set down his glass. “That’s what you like to tell yourself. Though, I know you don’t believe it.”

I squirmed in my chair. I didn’t want to be rude, but the old man’s timing was lousy. He’d argue it was entirely perfect.

“Look,” I said. “I appreciate you taking the time to check in on me. And I could tell you I’m fine and you won’t believe it. And we can do the dance we always do. But I can’t do it now. I need to get to the clubhouse.”

He nodded. “You’ve been away a lot. That’s not like you. Especially now.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Sanchez turned. He leveled his dark eyes at me. When I was a kid, that look used to turn my spine to water. It was as if he could see straight through to my soul. I could never lie to him back then. I didn’t try now. But there were some things that just weren’t this old man’s business anymore.

He folded his hands in his lap. “Fine. Deacon.”

He never called me that. It was either Daniel, or son. He’d accepted my choice to leave the priesthood, more or less. But I knew he took the patch I now wore as a personal betrayal. Even if he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“I see things,” he said. “And I’m an old man. Too old to go through this shit again.”

I blanched. My whole life, I’d never heard Father Sanchez swear. Anger swirled behind his eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He slammed his fist against the table, nearly overturning it. “Don’t. Save both our dignity and don’t lie to me. I’m not asking for details. It’s probably better if I don’t hear them, even within the confines of the confessional.”

“I don’t recall asking for absolution,” I said.

“No,” he said. “You haven’t. Not this time. And I didn’t say I’d be inclined to give it.”

This got an eye raise out of me. “Don’t tell me you’re the one having trouble keeping your vows this time.” I meant it almost as a joke. Banter was one of the things we did best. But Sanchez wasn’t smiling.

“I told you. I’m old, Daniel. Too old. And I know what’s going on. You and your crew are about to let this town go to hell. For what? Guns? Drugs? Money?”

“The Saints don’t deal drugs and you know it,” I said, anger rising.

Sanchez waved a dismissive hand. “Spare me the finer points. Was Sean the opening shot? Was it the Devils Hawks?”

I cleared my throat. “That would fall under the heading of a finer point, Father.”

“You’re young,” he said. “All of you. You have no idea the kind of destruction a club war would do to this town. People will die, Deacon. Innocent people. People you love. People I love. Even if you win.”

“You know I can’t discuss this with you.”

“No,” he said. “Of course not. And I don’t recall asking you to.”

“Then what are you here for? Are you going to try and convince me to leave the club?”

Father Sanchez reached for his wine. “I know what happens because I’ve seen it, Daniel. You’re willing to let this town burn, for what? More territory? You never pay the price. We’re the ones that pay the price.”

I leaned forward; the worn leather of my cut creaked. “It’s not just about territory. If you’ve seen what you say you have, you know that too. Like it or not, my club is what keeps even worse evil from getting in.”

“There is no worse evil, Daniel. There’s just evil.”

I laughed. “And if you really believed that, you wouldn’t be sitting here.”

“Did it help?” he asked, not missing a beat.

“Did what help?”

He took a slow sip. “Revenge. When you turned to it. Did it fill the hole in your heart? Did it bring your father back to you?”

I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched a fist. “I told you, I didn’t ask you to hear my confession.”

“No. You didn’t. You haven’t asked me that in years. And I couldn’t absolve you anyway, probably. Because I believe you’d do it again. You’re getting ready to.”

“Don’t,” I said, placing a hand over Father Sanchez’s when he reached for his wine. “Why don’t you just come out with it? What are you really doing here?”

He snatched his hand away. “I don’t know. That’s the God’s honest truth. No. Maybe it isn’t. I’m worried. I’m an old man, and I know war is coming to Port Azrael again. And I know you’re going to be at the center of it. So I was hoping, futile though that may be, that I could convince you not to be.”

“You’re right. Probably about all of it. But mostly about the futility. I’m where I’m supposed to be. I know that disappoints you.”

He poured himself another glass of wine. If he had any more, I’d need to call him a cab. “Where’s that, Daniel? I think maybe that’s what I’m doing here. You disappeared after Sean died. Where?”

I turned from him. A breeze picked up, sending spirals of sand across the landscape. He knew me. Damn the man, he still knew me so well.

“Is she well?” he asked. I didn’t want to answer. Father Sanchez had counseled Beth as much as me when we learned the truth about Sean. And he’d been the first to see what grew between us. He also knew I wouldn’t be strong enough to walk away.

“Well enough,” I finally said, growing angry. If he started to lecture me about the past, I might just throw him out. He didn’t though.

“I miss her too,” he said, sighing. “Beth was ... well, she was special, wasn’t she?”

I didn’t have to answer him. He could see the truth in my eyes. Yes, she was special. She was everything.

“But even she wasn’t enough to keep you from breaking your vows.”

I tapped my fingers on the table. Vows. I’d taken so many in my life. I’d kept the ones that mattered most. To my club. To the brothers I chose, if not the one I was born with. And I would keep my vow to Beth.

“I used to think she was the reason you turned away from your calling,” he said. “Temptation of the flesh. I couldn’t blame you. Either of you, really. Sean betrayed you both. It was only natural that you should turn to each other. It was my idea that she seek counsel from you. I thought you could help each other.”

Something hardened inside of me. What Beth and I shared had been more sacred than anything that ever happened in church for me. “We did,” I said. There was no point denying what we were to each other back then. I had confessed that sin to this man long ago.

“So,” Father Sanchez said, finishing the last of his wine. “She took you back, did she?”

“Back?”

He eyed me up and down. The man had a way of reading my soul that set the hairs on the back of my neck on end. Once upon a time, I felt I couldn’t hide anything from him. Now I knew I could. He knew it too.

“I figured you’d go to her once Sean was out of the way.”

“It was never about Sean,” I snapped.

He nodded. “Have it your way. Does Beth know what’s coming? With the club?”

I didn’t answer.

“Son,” he said, reaching for me again. “You think I don’t understand what’s churning inside of you? You think I’ve lived a chaste life? I’m a man. I’ve had my own temptations. My own demons.”

“And I told you, I’m not looking for absolution.”

He squeezed my arm. “And I told you I’m not here to give it. But know this: it’s not too late for you. Even with everything you’ve done. Everything you’re about to do. Beth though … You cannot drag her through this. If you do, every sacrifice you’ve made, every oath you’ve broken, it will be for nothing.”

“What are you asking me?” I pulled my hand away. “You speak in riddles, old man. I don’t have time for it. I have to get to the clubhouse.”

He sighed. “Of course you do. There’ll be a vote to take, I expect. A pretty big one, eh?”

I wouldn’t answer. What was there to say?

“Do you love her?” he asked, throwing me.

Love. It almost seemed an inadequate word for what my heart felt toward Beth. It was so big I couldn’t describe it. I certainly couldn’t explain it to someone like Father Sanchez who’d lived his life alone.

“Well,” he said. “Whatever she is to you, open your eyes, if not your heart, to what’s to come. No matter what you tell yourself. No matter what you tell her, she can’t be safe through this.”

“I think you should go.”

He shrugged. “I probably should. But I told you, I miss Beth too. And I care about her. We love some of the same people. So I’m asking you. No, I’m telling you. If you do love her, don’t drag her through this. She survived Sean. She won’t survive you.”

“What do you want me to do?” I snapped, though his answer was obvious. It burned in my heart like a brand.

Father Sanchez smiled as he slowly rose. He put a hand on my shoulder in almost a benediction. “If you love her, son. You have to let her go.”

With that, he turned and left.