Unholy Shepherd, Robert Christian [fastest ebook reader TXT] 📗

“This is my first, and I gotta tell you, I wanted to be the one to solve it. I wanted it bad. Maybe too much.” Manny shrugged and leaned forward to grab his glass. He swirled the liquor around before tipping it back into his mouth and slamming the glass back on the table.

Maureen had about half a beer left in front of her. Deciding that he shouldn’t drink alone, she drained it in two swallows.

“You did a good job,” she told him. “You got that Lowes guy to give up his brother-in-law.”

“Yeah, but let’s be honest, I was only in that room on the charity of Layton. He could have done it himself just as easily.”

“But you’ve already proved that you’re really good in the interrogation room.”

“I couldn’t crack you,” he said with a cynical laugh.

“You got closer than anyone.”

Manny turned his eyes toward her. They were beginning to shimmer, and the effects of the booze were slowly eroding his mask of self-confidence. He stared at her for a long, unwavering moment. Then slowly, he lifted himself off the couch and pivoted to face her. His mouth twitched, looking as if it wanted to pucker. He moved closer, but slowly. Maureen could tell he was waiting for a sign. She froze in her seat, but she didn’t put up any resistance. Instead, she closed her eyes and waited.

His kiss was soft and wet. He tasted like tequila and pepperoni, of course, but his lips were smooth, and Maureen couldn’t help but kiss back, allowing herself to grasp his face in her hands and pull him into her. Almost immediately, she found herself lying back on the couch and pulling him on top of her. She felt Manny’s hands glide up her leg before he rested one behind her head and the other cupped her breast, causing her nipples to harden and press on the padding of her bra. She thrust her chest upward as he ran his lips down her neck and began to kiss her collarbone.

After a moment, Maureen’s brain snapped back to reality. She wanted this for sure, wanted him, but her need to be in control overwhelmed her other senses. She gently pushed him in the chest and guided him to a seated position on the couch. He offered no resistance, and ever so slowly, she ran her hand between his legs and felt him begin to get hard. She straddled his lap and clasped both hands behind his neck. She leaned forward, grinding her hips into him and gently ran her tongue around his ear before trailing it down his neck. He let out a gasp of pleasure and reached his hands under her shirt. Maureen felt her heart jump as his fingers began to caress her back.

“No,” she gasped in a barely audible whisper and stopped his hands.

Manny froze for just a moment and looked at her. He seemed puzzled and startled by her reaction. She wanted to warn him about her scars and explain why she didn’t want him to touch them, but she couldn’t get a word out. Manny seemed to realize why she stopped him as he gently began to run his hand back and forth on either side of her spine, his fingers tracing the crisscrossing path that each of the pale, white marks made. He stared deep into her eyes and despite the liquor, his own were full of a saddened sympathy that showed her he understood. It was a look that she had never seen a man give her in her entire life.

Maureen stared back at him, bit her lip, and slowly moved her hands to the hem of her shirt. She drew it over her head, threw it to one side, and immediately reached back to unhook her bra. She did her best to tell herself that the only desire she was feeling for him was a physical need for sex, but it was impossible to deny the emotional connection to Manny she was feeling in that moment. The look he had given her made her feel truly seen. It was frightening and thrilling at the same time, and she decided to satisfy herself to the fullest.

Maureen cupped Manny’s face and threw every ounce of lust that was building inside into her kiss, probing his mouth with her tongue and grinding her hips even harder against his bulge. Then she grabbed him by the back of his head, and shoved his face into her chest, forcing a rock hard nipple into his mouth. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to give in to pleasure, if only just for one night.

THIRTY-TWO

Ra’ah’s knife glinted in the candlelight as he drew it across the whetstone in his left hand, pleased with the work that it had already done and eager for the next task. His mission had gone far from perfectly thus far, but he had at last found his next soul to save. She would be easy to follow, and her weakness would give him ample opportunity to acquire his sacrifice. It would need to be purified first, a complication in his plans that he had not foreseen, but that was of little matter. Ra’ah had the perfect place for the ceremony. He was glad that he had made sure it stayed under his control.

Ra’ah set his knife on the table and pulled out a piece of parchment. His report to the Urim was late. The success of his mission was paramount to their plans, being the litmus test for the greater work that would soon begin. Once he proved that they could accomplish their goals, their ranks would swell, and the real battle would begin. He was a servant of a greater power, a cause beyond human understanding. Their order, hidden long in the shadows, could soon step into the light of day and lead the world to paradise.

Ra’ah began to write, detailing all his work, the good and the bad. He lamented