12:22 p.m. Passion Ministry

“We’re not leaving. Weekly audience for the newbies is in a few hours.”

“Maybe you’re not, but I’m outta here,” Rachel replied, imagining the smooth taste of Bell’s whiskey.

“Come on, Rach.” Harry encouraged her out the front door. “Let’s get some air.” When they were well away from the building, he hissed, “What about exposing the Apostle?”

“Expose him as what, exactly?” Rachel asked, hugging herself against the morning breeze.

Harry snapped his fingers. “A fraud. Biggest quack of all time. Come on. This’s your kind of play. With your mom, we get a personal introduction.”

She held out her hands. They were shaking. “No can do, Harry. Got my priorities. What I need, I can’t find here.”

Harry rubbed his stubbly cheeks. “Okay. Didn’t I say I knew you. Understood you?” He glanced around. Eased something from his pocket. “I’ll give you what you need.”

Her eyes widened. “How did you—?”

He shrugged.

Rachel grabbed.

He snorted, pulling the bottle back. “Uh-uh. Not ‘til I get what I need.”

She would have given him anything for a taste, much less the whole damned bottle. Rachel nodded frantically. In seconds, the liquid seared her throat, lungs and stomach. All dread quenched.

His lips rolled in and out in time with her greedy swallows.