The church confessional reeked of gun oil and incense.
I pressed the barrel of my Glock between Father O’Malley’s third and fourth ribs, his cassock rough under my fingertips. “Bless me, Father,” I whispered, “for I’m about to sin.”
Behind me, Lucas exhaled a laugh against the nape of my neck, his teeth scraping the fresh knife wound there. The pain-pleasure made my knees weak.
“Wrong sacrament, sweetheart.” His SIG Sauer nudged my hip. “We’re here for last rites.”
The priest’s eyes widened as Lucas tossed a bloodstained USB onto the kneeler. The drive contained enough evidence to burn the archdiocese to the ground—our latest paycheck from a very pissed-off cardinal.
A shadow moved in the stained glass.
Lucas shot through the rose window without looking. A body thudded in the courtyard outside.
“Four shooters,” he murmured, licking the sweat from my shoulder blade. “Two with Russian steel, one with military stance, and…” His nose brushed my earlobe. “Ah. Our old friend Marco.”
I sighed. “I liked those shoes.”
The first grenade rolled down the center aisle as Lucas yanked me into the sacristy. The blast shattered the pipe organ, raining wood splinters and sheet music.
Marco’s voice echoed through the smoke: “Carter! You still fucking your personal grenade?”
Lucas’s hand slid between my thighs. “Yes.”
I came with his fingers inside me and a .50 cal round through Marco’s forehead.
The remaining shooters hesitated. Mistake.
Lucas pinned me against the marble altar, his mouth claiming mine as his free hand kept firing. Each gunshot punctuated his thrusts—
Bang. “Mine.”
Bang. “Only.”
Bang. “Mine.”
When the slide locked back on an empty chamber, I was seeing stars.
The last gunman made a break for the door.
Lucas didn’t bother chasing him. Just tossed my favorite knife.
The blade buried itself between the runner’s shoulder blades.
“Good girl,” Lucas purred, lifting me onto the altar. Gold chalices rattled as he pushed inside me.
Somewhere in the distance, sirens wailed.
I tightened my legs around his waist.
“Five minutes,” he promised.
The stained Virgin Mary watched us with knowing eyes.
I came again before the cops breached the door.
(Want it dirtier? Darker? Name your poison.) ☠️🔥