The priest smiled. “Connor, good to see you again.” He shook hands, then peeked inside the office. “Fascinating. I’ve never seen this room before. May I?”

Connor motioned for him to enter, then followed him inside.

Father Andrew pivoted, scanning the office. His eyebrows rose at the sight of all the weapons in the caged-off area in the back. He turned toward the wall of surveillance monitors. “I wanted to let you know how much we appreciate you keeping us safe during Mass.”

Connor inclined his head. It wasn’t an idle compliment. The Malcontents had tried bombing the chapel before. With Roman in attendance, along with Angus MacKay and other high-profile members of the bottle-drinking Vamp world, they were practically begging for an attack.

The priest gestured to the screen showing the chapel. “So you were still able to watch the service?”

“Aye.” Connor didn’t admit that he’d kept the volume turned off. “I wasna here all the time. I did four perimeter checks.”

“You’re very vigilant,” Father Andrew said with the hint of a smile. The silver fringe of hair surrounding his bald crown indicated an advanced age, yet his clear blue eyes and smooth skin lent him an oddly youthful and innocent appearance. “Roman and his family are fortunate to have you.”

Connor shifted his weight. “Roman is verra important.”

The priest’s smile widened. “You are all important in the eyes of the Lord. I was wondering why you volunteer to guard us every week. Surely you could take turns with the other men? I haven’t seen you at Mass for months now.”

Connor winced inwardly. He should have known this was coming.

“I’m concerned about you,” the priest continued. “Perhaps it’s my imagination, but I feel like you’ve grown more isolated and . . . unhappy in the last few years. Roman agrees—”

“Ye talked to Roman about me?” Connor snapped.