Burn in Hail(19)

"How did she sin?"

I gave my best friend an obvious ‘are you fucking stupid' look.

Baylor started to laugh, then sobered when he saw I wasn't joking.

He stood up.

"I'll fucking kick his ass."

"You're telling me that he did this … Krisney said … oh, fucking God."

That's about where I was at, too.

"Every time she sins, he cuts her hair."

"Going into someone's house like that when they're sleeping is illegal," Parker said, zero emotion in his tone.

I laughed then.

"The cops in this town leave a lot to be desired," I pointed out. "They got rid of some shitty ones, but … "

"But the whole fucking force was shit," Evander added, filling in the  words I'd left unsaid. "They fired a lot, but kept on others that were  neutral because of their supposedly good work ethic. Only good one that I  know I can count on is a woman, and we know how women in that  profession are treated. She's eaten alive up there, and sometimes I feel  like the only reason she's still there is because of her sister's kids  that she supports."

I agreed with the other big man.

"I can remember at least ten times that her hair was hacked off like  that," I started pacing again. "And to top it off, she let it slip that  it wasn't the only thing that he used to do to her."

Growls came from the table behind me.

When I turned, each man's face was blank, even the new guys.

"I think maybe you should take the day off." Travis stood and started  collecting his papers. "We'll finish this shit tomorrow. I have a  brother-in-law that I guess I could speak to … but I'm not sure what I'd  tell him at this point."

Travis speaking to his brother-in-law was big. They hadn't had a  relationship in a very long time, but Travis' woman, Hannah, had brought  them together again. She'd helped them mend fences, but there was still  tension there, and probably always would be.

Wolf was an agent of some kind, one I'd never cared to pay attention to,  but I knew that he probably couldn't do anything about this. Travis was  right. Without proof that she was hurt, there was nothing on our end  that we could do until he did.

We knew how the law worked, and sometimes it was a right bitch.

I'd never had a problem with the police, and never would.

However, I saw the gaps in the system, and I really didn't want this to have to get worse before something else would be done.

Which meant I was talking to the town's preacher. I was going to tell  him what he was to do from now on, and I'd make sure he never touched  his daughter again.

Not if he didn't want his ass kicked afterwards, anyway. Fuck going back to jail. If that was what I had to do, then I'd do it.

It'd be worth it. That I knew for sure.

"Fine." I walked toward the door. "But I'm going to have a few words with our preacher. Maybe one of you could accompany me?"

Rafe stood and walked toward me.

"I'll go," he said. "I'd had some stuff I needed to do at the church anyway."

My brows lifted at that, but I wasn't opposed to him coming.

If the man wanted to hear what was about to go down, who was I to say anything to the contrary?

Though, I had a feeling he was going there not as a favor to me, but as a favor to someone else.

Now only to find out who.



I arrived at the church in greasy pants, a dingy gray t-shirt that had  some stains on it from hundreds of uses, and dirty boots that still had  mud on them from the day before.

I didn't stop to clean myself off, though. Knowing instinctively that it would antagonize the man that hated me with a passion.

My first stop was his office, which was empty but for a receptionist.

"Can I help you?" she asked, smiling brightly at not me, but at Rafe who'd tailed behind me.

I rolled my eyes.

Yes, Rafe was pretty. He looked like a woman's wet dream if you asked me.

Tall, muscular, a slight beard. No identifying tattoos-that I could  see-except for one single one on the inside of his elbow, and even then I  had to squint to see it because it was the same color as his skin.

"I'm here to talk to the pastor," I interrupted her ogling. "Where is he?"         

     



 

The woman's eyes flicked to me, then she flinched.

"Oh, hello Mr. Casey." She smiled, but I could tell it was strained.  "Mr. Hanes is in with a friend right now at his home at the back of the  church. He should be done with this appointment by eleven o'clock."

There was no way in hell I was waiting until eleven o'clock to address this. It was happening now.

"Okay," I shrugged. "We'll be back at eleven then."

The receptionist smiled warily, looking relieved that I wouldn't be waiting, and waved timidly.

"Have a good day, Mr. Casey."

It was then that I placed who she was. Marion Kent. She'd been a friend of Hennessy's while in high school.

Was she still a friend?

I doubted it.

Rafe was nowhere to be found when I turned around, and I decided he'd have to catch up as I made my way out of the church.

However, when I rounded the corner of the building and started walking  down the path that led to the house that the church allowed their pastor  and his family to live in, I found Rafe standing next to the front  door, arms and legs crossed as he leaned against a pillar.

"What the fuck?"

Rafe grinned.

"He's fucking someone all right."

I winced.

"Who?"

Rafe shrugged. "Tall brunette with gold highlights. Older."

I knew instantly who it was.

"Goddammit."

I knew exactly who Rafe was talking about, and I'd managed to avoid her since I'd gotten out of prison. It hadn't been easy.

"Pretty sure you're not supposed to take the Lord's name in vain on church grounds."

I laughed humorlessly at that.

"The Lord already knows that I'm a sinner," I told him bluntly. "And I  don't plan on asking for forgiveness seeing as I'd do it again over and  over if I ever had the chance or the need to do it again."

Rafe shrugged, then levered himself off the pillar using just the strength in his legs.

"Want me to knock?"

I laughed and shook my head. "Knock?"

Then I pounded on the door before walking right in.

Stupid pastor thought he was invincible. He'd never locked it, which I'd  found out one other time when I had to confront him when it came to my  mother.

"Oh, mommy?" I bellowed. "Pastor Hanes! You have a visitor!"

It didn't take long for both of them to arrive-thankfully clothed.

"Tate?" My mother said in confusion.

She looked like shit. Too old for her age of fifty-nine, but apparently  the pastor still dug that. Her makeup was smeared, her lips swollen and  bruised from what I could only assume was them kissing.

The thought of them doing anything at all turned my stomach, but I was  here for Hanes. I'd be dealing with him despite the awkward situation.

"Get out of my house, sinner!" Hanes bellowed the moment he hit the  doorway, still buttoning the collar of his white dress shirt.

Stupid mother fucker. Always with the white. God, he made me sick.

"I'm not going anywhere until we discuss the fact that you're assaulting  your daughter. Breaking and entering into her home," I said.

The pastor's face never changed. No surprise. No guilt. No nothing.

"I don't know what you speak of," he lied straight faced. "But if you  don't get out of my house, I'll be charging you with breaking and  entering."

I smiled then, showing a row of straight white teeth.

"Yeah?" I grinned. "I'll leave, but only after you hear this one thing first."

Pastor Hanes didn't say anything.

"You touch her, or I even think that you're thinking about touching her, again, and I'll end you."

"Is that a threat?" Pastor Hanes' voice rose.

I shrugged. "Take it as whatever you want to take it as, just know that if you touch her again, you'll have me to deal with."

"You have no right to tell me how to raise my daughter."

I laughed at that. "Your daughter is well past grown. Trust me on this."

I walked out before he could reply, again finding that Rafe was gone.

He also hadn't caught back up by the time that I got to the truck, and I contemplated leaving him.

After five more minutes, I started the truck, thinking that maybe he'd wanted me to leave him.

But after another thirty seconds of waiting, I found him rounding the corner of the church again, walking slowly toward me.

When he got in, I rose my brows at him in question.

"Had some questions of my own," he muttered. "Placed a bug, too."

I frowned. "You just happened to have one of those in your pocket?"         

     



 

He nodded, and I had no response to that.

This man was a whole lot more than what he seemed, and only left me with more questions than answers.

My phone rang before I could ask them, and I looked at the readout and contemplated answering it.

In the end, I knew that I wouldn't ignore it.

"Hello?" I answered the phone as I drove.

"Um, Tate?"

My happy mood soured.

"Rosemary," I said carefully. "How are you?"

"I need to tell you something."