Free Sacrifice the Wicked by Karina Cooper Page B

up the third side of the Holy Order quadplex—had decided that tithes should be set aside for the park.
    As if anyone cared anymore about greenery and nature.
    Parker sat on the edge of the fountain, one hand buried in her trench coat, the other holding an umbrella open over her head. The rain cooled the air, gave it enough of a mild bite that she didn’t relish getting a soaking.
    Pedestrians passed on the other side of the fountain, a long line of black umbrellas and the occasional colorful designer pattern. Cars glided by, wheels forging through the collected rainwater as the built-in gutters worked to direct the flow away from the streets.
    On the park’s side, the paths remained empty.
    As far as Parker knew, only the occasional jogger or strolling couple wandered through the meandering trails. It wasn’t big enough for a full run, and there were better places—gyms and cultivated tracks—where exercise could be more comfortable.
    She tended to stick with the Mission facilities herself. How long had it been since she’d last wandered through the evergreens?
    Years, at least.
    Her clearest memory involved an eager set of hands and the risk of getting caught.
    A faint smile touched her mouth as she shook her head. That was a long time ago. A somewhat less difficult time, though the orphans collected in the Mission boardinghouse always knew where they’d eventually end up. The Church cultivated everything—parks, people.
    Conspiracy.
    She shifted on the cold, hard ledge, transferring her umbrella to the other hand. Her gun was in reach, but she couldn’t leave it out for anyone to see. It’d take some doing to get it if she needed it.
    She hoped Jonas was right.
    She couldn’t risk extra backup on this one. Not if what the analyst said was true. Anything, any clues, as to GeneCorp’s nature and interests would help her.
    Help the Mission.
    She resisted the urge to check her watch.
    “Miss Adams.”
    Her head whipped around so fast that the umbrella tilted. A man caught the edge, sent water leaping out from the waterproof material in a miniature version of the fountain.
    He wore a long coat, virtually identical to hers but for the black color, belted over what looked like dark jeans. Not exactly suit-and-tie wear. His lean build and wet curls didn’t offer anything to make him stand out, though his angular features were handsome enough.
    Not as striking as Simon.
    And she really didn’t need to be making that comparison.
    His smile reached his warm brown eyes. “Pleasure to meet you face-to-face,” he said lightly. He let go of her umbrella. “May I sit?”
    Her eyes narrowed as the memory clicked into place. “Phi—”
    “There’s no need for that,” he said hastily, folding to the ledge beside her with elegant ease. “Let’s just keep this as informal as possible.”
    “So you say,” she said slowly, shifting to keep distance between them. Not that she expected Phinneas Clarke to do anything but charm her to death.
    The man had a reputation. A little less than a year ago, he’d run the city’s premier resort and spa for the wealthiest and most elite. Coming from a prominent family himself, the spa had done very well among the wealthy set.
    Until a rogue missionary had infiltrated it, culminating in its destruction—and the defection of one of her top agents.
    Phin Clarke’s mother had died in the ensuing fallout. Parker had tried to keep tabs on them, to get to the bottom of the events that had ended in so many questions, but a few months later, the Clarkes had vanished completely.
    That made them guilty as hell in her book, but she’d never had anything to go on.
    Until now.
    He studied her, a kind of half smile shaping his mouth. “I suspect you have a lot of questions.”
    “You have no idea,” she said evenly. “Let’s start with where you’ve been.”
    “Safe.” He leaned forward, lacing his fingers, elbows braced on his knees. If the rain dripping through his sodden hair