Bone to Be Wild (31 page)

He wanted me to grovel. Okay, whatever kept him talking. The longer we stayed in his living room chewing the fat, the more time Coleman had to find me. Even though I couldn't reach for my phone while he watched me like an eagle, I knew the phone was on and Coleman could track the GPS chip. Given enough time, help would come for me and I wouldn't have to lift a finger.

Of course, if Mason gave me half a chance, I'd get the pistol from my waistband and shoot him. Cramped between the sofa and the coffee table, I wouldn't be able to maneuver fast enough to pull this off with him two feet away. I had no choice but to keep up the charade.

“A rich husband would be nice, but what I really want is a husband who has a direction, who has a calling and who can help me find that path.”

“You're a sly thing, aren't you? Thinking you can con me.”

“Con you?” I was all wide-eyed innocence. “I want a husband and family. Children. That's the truth. Those things have eluded me and I have to accept my life choices are to blame. I'm doing something wrong, and I need to change before it's too late.”

“Get up.”

My acting skills had obviously abandoned me. “Why?”

“Women don't ask why. They obey. That's the first rule to learn.”

“May I speak with Reverend Farley?”

“Not a chance.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“And women don't ask where or when or how. They obey. You ask too many questions. It's a bad habit that will lead you straight to the fiery lake of hell.”

I wondered if he was sincerely attempting to teach me his lessons or if I would soon be marched to my death. I studied his face, aware that frowning was his natural expression. He would expect me to try something else. I had to outfox him. “If you'd listen to me, maybe try to help me, there are benefits.”

He shook his head. “You are a sinful woman. You think you can change what's going to happen by offering sex?”

The idea of it shocked me. “Don't be ridiculous. I was offering no such thing. I meant—”

“Women like you always think their bodies are coin to trade. There's a word for that. Whore.”

Now I was honestly offended.
He'd
taken an innocent statement and turned it into something sexual, not me. “Get over yourself. I was thinking what a wonderful church Dahlia House would make.” It was a crazy ploy, but I had no idea if he'd sent people to burn down my home. Holding out my ancestral property as a gathering place for his nutcase group knotted my stomach, but playing pretend about the future with Mason was all I had, until I could get my gun. And it might save my home.

My suggestion gave him pause.

“Women like you don't convert so easily. This is a trick.”

Give the guy a slice of pie.

“I'm not converting to anything. I'm seeking answers to my life. I'd be willing to try things your way. Maybe I would find peace and serenity. Having a man to take charge would be … wonderful. I have everything on my shoulders at Dahlia House. I would love to have someone I could lean on and trust to make the big decisions.”

Mason's jaw clenched. “You think I'm a fool, don't you?”

“You don't know much about women if you don't understand that no matter how rich or independent or accomplished, every woman wants a man to look up to. Every single one. Do you have a woman, Mason?”

Thin ice! The danger signs were posted everywhere. If I hinted at his hypocrisy, bedding Bijou while he espoused purity, Mason would never work with me.

“That's none of your damn business.”

I sat taller, pushing my hand under the sofa for support. My fingers grazed the cell phone. Another inch and I'd have it.

“I want to make it my business. A good woman, one who truly wants a partner, can bring wonderful things into a relationship. It isn't all taking, you know. The right woman can give. Some women can give a lot.”

“Are you talking about yourself?”

I realized too late the ice was also emotionally thin for me. I had to be honest enough to sell it. That had always been the trick of acting. To bring my emotions to the characters. When I was younger and trying for Broadway, I'd been afraid to really reveal myself. Now, I had to be emotionally true or he would smell my deceit. “I'm afraid to talk about myself. I've had to be strong for such a long time. Now, I'm scared to be vulnerable. I don't know if you remember, but I lost my parents when I was young. A car accident. Everything I'd thought of as secure and safe disappeared overnight.” The painful lump in my throat wasn't pretend.

His eyes registered shock for one split second before he covered it. “Stop the yakking and get on your feet now. You're so curious about Jaytee, I think it's time for a reunion.” He tugged me upright just as a knock came at the door.

“Mason,” a female voice called out. “It's me, Amanda. Reverend Farley sent me to get you. Mr. Doleman is on the porch waiting for you. There's a big meeting up at the main house. Two men just got here in a real nice sports car. Red and—” she broke off. “Sorry. I know that's not important. Reverend Farley isn't here, and Mrs. LaRoche sent me to get you.”

“Shut up!” Mason snapped. “Get in here.”

“I'm not supposed to enter your house. Reverend Farley said no woman should step into a man's home without the proper chaperone.”

“Get in this room right now.”

A young woman in her early twenties slipped into the room, her eyes downcast. She wore a dress at least a size too large for her that covered her from her neck to her ankles, but it still couldn't hide how pretty she was. She cast a furtive glance at me. The false hope that had arisen at the sound of her voice died a quick death. The women of the church were so browbeaten, none would risk punishment to help me.

She hovered at the edge of the room. “Ms. LaRoche said to come to the big house. She got rid of her company.” She cast a another sidelong glance at me. “Now.”

“Get me something to tie her hands,” Mason ordered.

“Mason, I—”

“Shut up and do what I said.”

“I guess I could cut a piece of the clothesline out back.”

“Do that.” He reached into his pocket for a knife and held it out to her. She hesitated but came deeper into the room to get it. Once she had it in her hand, she scurried back to the doorway.

The split second he was distracted, I eased the gun out of my waistband and held it behind my back. I hoped the girl would leave, but I couldn't control the situation. I wasn't about to let Mason tie my hands.

“Didn't I tell you to do something?” Mason asked her.

“Yes, sir.” She disappeared and I heard the front door close.

It was now or never. Mason was ten feet away from me. I brought out the gun and aimed it at his chest. Coleman had taught me to go for the chest area, the largest target.

“What the—” At least he was shocked by my maneuver. “Put that thing away.”

“I'm leaving, and if you try to stop me, I'll shoot you. I swear it.”

“You're not going anywhere.”

“I am. And when the sheriff arrives, he'll find Jaytee.”

“Not likely.” Mason wasn't afraid, and that worried me. Most people looking down the barrel of a deadly weapon exhibited more nerves.

“I'm walking out the door. You stay put.” I edged around the coffee table and moved sideways to the front door. The cottage was shotgun style so the exit was close. The problem was the open ground between the house and the woods. I would be an easy target for any of Mason's confederates to pick off.

“Here's the clothesline.” The girl entered and stopped. She held out her hand, frozen in place. “What are you doing?” she asked me.

“I'm leaving,” I said, easing behind her. “Mason is staying here in this room, or I'll have to shoot him.”

She didn't budge.

“You won't get to the barn,” Mason said. His assurance gave me great concern, but escape was all I had.

I reached the door and opened it wide but kept Mason in my sight. The girl watched me. Her eyes widened and she almost called out, but no sound left her mouth. Something, or someone, was behind me.

I never saw the blow coming. The attacker struck me on the head hard. I staggered, fighting the loss of balance, the encroaching darkness. Then I went down.

 

18

Returning to consciousness, I discovered my hands were tied behind my back. I was lying on the sofa. I kept my eyes closed, listening. I was in big trouble. If Coleman was riding to the rescue, he was way late. I had to assume that no one was coming to help me. I'd lost my gun and, with my hands tied, I'd never be able to use the cell phone not two feet from me.
If
it was still under the sofa.

“I never signed on to break the law,” said a male voice, younger than Mason.

“Don't worry about the laws of man. We serve the laws of God.” That was Mason, selling the party line. I'd underestimated him and now I would pay the price.

I opened my eyes a slit and saw Mason and another man I didn't know sitting at the kitchen table. The young woman had obviously been sent about her chores.

“This is getting out of hand,” the younger man said. “Mason, I want to be godly, but I don't want to hurt people. Fred was sitting out on your porch, and he said we were going to hang that blues fellow. He said we'd make an example of him to all who wanted to come to Sunflower County and listen to Satan's music. He said the Midnight Templars needed an example, to show the world what we believed.”

“True believers do what's necessary. You don't believe enough, Silas. Reverend Farley will be disappointed when I tell him how he's failed you.”

“He hasn't failed me. But burning a man's house? Tying up women? Kidnapping? Lynching a man? That's not part of following the Lord.”

“Who are you to question the reverend's orders?”

“I'm nobody.” Silas was defeated. “I guess you know best.”

I wanted to scream out that Mason didn't know anything except crimes that would land him in prison for the next forty years.

“Finally you're talking sense,” Mason said, but I could tell by his voice he wasn't satisfied with Silas. “And just a little secret between the two of us—that blues fellow isn't all that he seems to be. Put your faith in Reverend Farley's plan. I do believe we may have us a convert.”

“What are you planning for her?” Silas asked, pointing at me. “Sheriff Peters is a close friend of hers. He won't ever stop trying to find her. He'll never give up. I want to follow the Lord, but I don't want to go to prison.”

“The sheriff won't find a trace of her. Not until we're ready for him to. By then it'll be too late to stop us. Look, Silas, we're conducting some business tonight that will provide for the church and its followers for years to come. Reverend Farley is tending to that right now. You need to put your faith in his leadership and in the plans handed down to us from the Midnight Templars. If we prove our loyalty in this, we'll be welcomed into the fold of a great organization, a moment in time when we can change the path of America. This country is headed in the wrong direction, and we can be the agent of change. When the Rapture comes, we'll be called through the pearly gates by name.”

“Seems we could live a godly life on the compound and stay out of all of this … violence. Why are we doing this?” Silas asked. “I mean we have our church grounds, and we have our jobs. We make ends meet in the congregation. You talk about how important our work is, but I don't see it. Why are we fighting a music club? We don't have to go there and listen. Let the blasphemers have their pleasures. We'll be triumphant when the Rapture comes.”

A chair scraped back and I peeked. Mason was standing. “That music is corrupting our community. We are God's warriors, Silas. We live according to his dictates, and now it's time to show others the way. Destroying the club will bring media attention. We'll have a platform to tell the rest of the country how God wants us to live. We will bring the Word, exhibited by our lifestyle, to the rest of the people. This will become a movement, a resurrection of godly ways and teachings. You have to believe this, Silas. We are God's warriors. God's gladiators.”

Listening to Mason rant, I thought of Charlie Manson and his belief that he was Jesus Christ. He'd convinced a handful of young people, through hallucinogens and physical brutality, that he was literally Jesus returned to Earth. He ordered his followers to steal from and murder an eight-months-pregnant woman, among others. To underestimate the power of belonging was a very dangerous thing. Reverend Farley was no Charles Manson, but what he offered these lost people was potent. And he had an effective enforcer; Mason was his right-hand man.

“I'm humbled to be here,” Silas said.

“Has the church ever failed you?” Mason asked.

“Reverend Farley said the church would find a wife for me.”

“Yes, a man and a woman together is God's plan.”

“Amanda is pretty.” The desire in Silas's voice was clear.

“Tell me about her,” Mason said. “What's her story?”

“She showed up with the man who claims to be her husband and the clothes on her back, which were unsuitable, by the way. Rawley Gomes took her in and her husband, Clemont, went to live in the men's barrack. Reverend Farley said they had to be counseled for six months before he would marry them in the church, to be certain they were both practicing the faith.”

“That's the rules,” Mason said. “Some women need a stronger man. They need a firm hand, guidance in the true path. Reverend Farley must have some concerns about the power of her man to control her and keep her safe. So she's been put under Rawley Gomes's supervision. How is that working out?”

“Amanda helps Mrs. Gomes teach the school lessons. She's smart. She loves children.”