Destiny Calls by Samantha Wayland (100 best novels of all time TXT) 📗

piers on the harbor would wake her up. She wasn"t going to be able to lie down for hours yet and she wasn"t convinced she"d sleep once she did.

Pulling on her coat, she stepped out of the lobby of her company"s high rise and promptly slammed into the man standing in front of her.

Damn it.

She reached out to steady them both, but jerked her hand back when she saw the gaunt young man staring at her, too close. Too earnest. His eyes never stopped moving.

His clean, pressed white shirt and black pleated trousers were familiar, the Bible clutched in his hand the clincher. A missionary? Cripes, that was the last thing she needed.

Smiling politely, she murmured, “excuse me” and tried to move around him. She ground her teeth when he didn"t release his hold on her sleeve.

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“Miss, please, I need to speak with you.” His voice was fervent. His face young. He kept scratching the arm that held her still. She sincerely hoped he didn"t have anything contagious.

“No, thank you,” she replied firmly, trying to remain polite. She tugged at her arm as gently as she could without making a scene. He didn"t let go. Her heart skipped a beat, but she told herself to be calm. She was on a relatively busy street. She was safe.

“Miss, I must try. I must save your soul.”

She yanked her arm free and forced a smile, putting her hands out to ward him off.

“I"m all set, thanks.”

“Have you seen the light?” he asked, grasping her palm in his clammy one, pressing his Bible to the back of her hand.

Shit. She had no idea if she"d seen the light, but she was hoping to see a cop. “I think I have.” There, maybe he"d leave her alone? God, all she wanted to be was alone.

“So you"ve left the evil-doers behind?”

Destiny looked around. Where the hell was everyone? She shouldn"t have taken an early lunch.

“Yes. Sure. I have left the evil-doers behind. Can I go now?” She pulled her hand free again and turned to go back into her building. Lunch could wait. She was wide awake now, anyway—mission accomplished.

“Thank the Lord, miss. Thank the Lord that you"ve seen the error of your ways.

Those men are unclean. They would have tainted your soul.” Destiny stopped her headlong charge into the lobby. He"d said it as if he meant specific men.

She spun to face him. “What did you say?”

“Praise the Lord!”

“Yeah, I caught that part, thanks.” Narrowing her eyes, she stepped closer. “Tell me again what we"re praising the Lord for?”

“For your escape! You have fled and I have followed you!” She got a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. “You have?”

“I knew you"d see the truth. I told him so.” Is his zeal, the boy didn"t seem to think it odd Destiny had returned to his side.

“Who"d you tell?” she asked.

“My pastor and my Lord, miss. Those to whom I am accountable. Those to whom we are all accountable.”

Now she grasped his sleeve. “Did you follow me here?” At last, realization stuck and his darting eyes went wide. He tried to move away.

She held on fast.

“What"s your name?” she asked forcefully with the hope of compelling an answer from him. She tightened her grip, leaning back to dig her heels into the brick sidewalk.

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The guy looked downright panicked as he tugged his arm and failed to free himself.

Good. With a jerk, she brought him close and pressed her case. “Who the fuck are you?” He gasped. “No! You mustn"t use such language. You must repent.” She grabbed his lapel with her other hand. “Who the fuck are you?” she shouted, barely resisting the urge to shake him. She saw she"d drawn the eyes of passing pedestrians and felt more comforted than embarrassed by her audience.

The man twitching in her grasp, on the other hand, looked like he was going to cry.

“No! I am too late. I should not have come. You are lost. I should not have doubted when he said you must all be punished. You are the harlot of the unclean. An abomination!”

Destiny heard a gasp from somewhere behind her, but held on. Hell, she"d been called worse by people more sane than this poor shlub.

She heard footsteps rushing toward them and let go of her captive"s collar to turn and see the security guard from her building shove through the door. Relief swamped her even as the young zealot yanked back again, nearly knocking her off balance.

The moment his coat sleeve slipped free of her fingers, he bolted, running full pelt down the street. The guard asked her if she was okay as she watched the strange missionary disappear around a corner.

She nodded absently, rubbing her sore fingers. She was physically unhurt, which was all the guard cared about, but she was still going to have to call Brandon and Patrick, which meant she was anything but okay.

By mutual agreement, Brandon stood alone on the stairs in front of the police station to wait for Destiny.

Well, agreement wasn"t really the right word. He"d more or less had to tell Patrick to fuck off and stay hidden while he dealt with their already badly spooked friend. One look at Patrick in his current mood would doubtless send her running again.

As soon as Destiny had called, Brandon had known something was wrong. Destiny could hold onto her anger a hell of a lot longer than twelve hours. His heart had plummeted at the shake in her voice when she"d said nothing more than his name.

Once she"d explained the reason for her call and agreed to come directly to them, he"d hung up and run to find Patrick.

Patrick, of course, had immediately kicked into raging-alpha protective mode. And while that wasn"t inappropriate, it didn"t help with either of the two giant clusterfucks they were caught up in—Destiny"s departure and now something about a missionary following her. He didn"t know what the hell was going on, but he knew