White Heat (20 page)

“I wouldn't say
happy
is the right word, but I'm no longer having fantasies of bashing my fist into your prophet's face. I figure that's an improvement, don't you?”

Grady's heavy jowls blazed red. “Anger management issues?”

“No issues. I'm just determined to protect what's mine.”

“How long have you been married?”

“Not very long.”

“You might not be so protective in a few years,” he joked.

Nate indicated the other man's forehead. “Why don't you have the mark?”

“Because I'm a shepherd, not one of the sheep.”

Nate remembered Rachel telling him that Ethan had said the same thing to explain the absence of a brand on his own face. These men thought they were superior to
the people who believed in them and supported them. And that really bothered Nate. He hadn't learned much about religion, but his father had introduced him to the concept of the strong serving the weak. To him, that was the real meaning of Christ's life. But that kind of humility only occurred when religious leaders were sincere, self-effacing. The very opposite of the men he saw here. Which told him as much as he needed to know about the Covenanters. “Bart has the mark. Isn't he a shepherd?”

“He has a slightly different role. He's…unique, in case you haven't noticed.”

“Tell me, what happens if a lamb wanders off?”

“It's my job to bring it back into the fold.”

Nate mimed the use of a shepherd's crook. “Right around the throat, huh?”

Grady stared at him for several seconds. “I do it with gentle persuasion.” His lips curved into a grim smile. “But when it comes to keeping out the wolves, I can be ruthless.”

Nate had just established himself as a wolf, a danger. But that was
his
role. They were testing him, pushing him, trying to figure out what they could or couldn't get away with. He had to play the heavy, the grumpy disbelieving husband, or things could get out of control very fast. In this situation, Rachel was supposed to be the helpless lamb.

He just had to be sure she wasn't led to the slaughter.

T
he first song ended, but another slow one came on immediately after, and Ethan made no move to let Rachel go. She guessed he was prolonging the dance as some sort of payback, since Nate had taken exception to it. Ethan seemed to enjoy making him angry. Perhaps Nate provided a challenge, something he wasn't used to encountering these days. At least, not now that he'd become the be-all and end-all to his followers.

“Your husband is a jealous man,” he said as Nate continued to watch them closely.

“He can be.”

“He doesn't trust me.”

She tried to keep things light. “He can be a bit skeptical. It takes time to win him over.”

“Did it take time for
you
to win him over?”

She'd blown any chance of that the night she'd offered him everything she had, including her love. But this was just pretend, so she played it as if her “husband” really felt something for her. “As a matter of fact, it did.”

“And now you know he's completely devoted.”

“As devoted as any man could be, I suppose.”

Ethan threw back his head and laughed. Rachel sus
pected he was exaggerating his reaction for Nate's benefit. He wanted Nate to think they were having more fun than they were. But she didn't care how their dance might be affecting her boss because she knew his jealousy was all part of the act.

“You have issues with men?” Ethan asked.

“Only when they try to control me. I'd had enough of that by the time I was seventeen.”

“And who has tried to control you, beautiful Rachel?”

“Mainly my father, who was formidable.”

Ethan's suit smelled of expensive cologne, which wasn't a wholly unwelcome scent. “He was strict?”

“Militant.”

She hadn't gone into much detail at dinner.

He seemed to think that over. “At dinner, you said you were from Utah.”

“That's right.”

“Mormons can certainly be…rigid.”

The music swelled and the volume of voices around them crescendoed with it. “A decent guess, but I've never been Mormon.”

“What religion were you, then?”

The dossier Milt prepared hadn't covered this, so—like Nate at dinner—she went with what she felt would be convincing, and the truth was the most convincing of all. “A break-off from the Jehovah's Witnesses.”

“A break-off?”

“When my father was in his early twenties, he met a man who was heavily involved in a faith that his brother had founded, one even stricter than the original. It's only been around for about thirty years. It isn't large.”

“What's it called?”

“The Church of the Witness of True Faith.”

“I've never heard of it. I don't know much about Jehovah's Witnesses, either. My own family was agnostic.”

“Then it's ironic you became so religious.”

“We all worship something.”

“What did your family worship?”

“Money.”

Hadn't he told her earlier that his father was a dissolute alcoholic? “And booze, right?”

His grin slanted to the side. He didn't seem to care that he'd just given away his lie. “Right.”

“Definitely not
my
father's problem,” she went on. She didn't want the conversation to focus on anything remotely close to the fact that she'd already known his background.

“What was?”

“Control, of course.”

“The True Faith was more restrictive than most religions?”

“You could say that.”

He turned her so she could no longer see Nate, only the faces of the many strangers looking on. “I've heard that Jehovah's Witnesses can't get a blood transfusion or donate blood,” he said. “Was that also a belief in the True Faith?”

“That and more.”

“For instance…”

“I wasn't allowed to attend a school dance. Or any school activity, for that matter.” Her father had refused to permit her to join such activities. She could spend very limited time with girls whose beliefs differed from
his, which put her on the outside of about every group or clique there was.

“Now I understand why you were reluctant to come out on the floor with me. You're not accustomed to this type of celebration.”

“
Any
type of celebration.”

Sobering, he rubbed her back lightly. “Poor baby. Tell me, what else did you miss?”

She hid a grimace at the endearment but had to admit he seemed genuinely interested and even somewhat sympathetic. “We didn't celebrate any holidays, including Mother's Day, Father's Day, Valentine's or our birthdays. I couldn't join the Girl Scouts, become a cheerleader, run for class president or play any sports. I wasn't supposed to salute the flag or sing the national anthem. And I couldn't date without supervision. I couldn't even say ‘bless you' when someone sneezed, although I can't remember the reason for that.”

He turned her yet again. “I'm guessing the worst sin of all would be marrying an unbeliever, correct?”

“Correct.”

“But you did just that.”

Not yet. However, it was exactly what she planned to do if she ever found the right man. Never would she marry someone who was ultrareligious. “Yes. I walked out when I was seventeen and haven't looked back.” That was a bit of a stretch. She looked back all the time. But she couldn't
go
back. Only part of her ever wanted to.

“What a little rebel.” Using one finger, he tilted up her chin. “How'd you get by?”

“I lived with another member who'd left the church until I graduated from high school. Then I put myself
through college. College would also have been off-limits if I'd stayed at home, by the way.”

“What about sex?”

She arched her eyebrows. “What about it?”

“With restrictions that limit everything else that's enjoyable in life, I would expect your religion to have strict rules regarding intercourse.”

“‘Neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor men kept for unnatural purposes, nor men who lie with men, nor thieves, nor greedy persons, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the Kingdom of God.'

“I've read that somewhere,” he said with half a smile.

“First Corinthians.”

A nod told her he knew as much. “You're well versed.”

“I had no choice. It was memorize the Bible or get a whipping.”

“Spare the rod, spoil the child.”

“Something like that.” She noticed Sarah watching them from behind a knot of men and couldn't help wondering what she was thinking.

“We as Covenanters have no need to control the minutiae of another person's life. We offer freedom, patience, love.” He motioned at everyone around them. “You'd like it here.”

“You don't agree with the Bible?”

He turned her again, and she lost sight of Sarah. “Of course, when it comes to homosexuality and other issues. We just have a different definition of adultery.”

“What's your definition?”

“Adultery is making love to a woman without the consent of God.”

“Isn't marriage how you get that consent?”

“Not necessarily. It requires honest prayer and petition and a responsible plan for any children that might be created as a result.”

“Doesn't the commune take care of that?”

“As a matter of fact, it does.”

“So wouldn't a man be likely to get whatever answer he wanted to his prayer?”

“The woman also prays. It has to be agreed by both.”

“I see.”

“The prophets of old had many wives and concubines,” he said.

“You're making a case for polygamy?”

“Not polygamy as you might know it.” His breath fanned her cheek as he leaned toward her. “That's illegal, isn't it?”

“Technically.”

“Contrary to what some outside these walls might say, we believe in upholding the laws of the land.”

She saw Nate again and tried to ignore his displeasure. “I'm sure the locals will find that very reassuring.”

“Especially Courtney's mother,” he said with a theatrical sigh. “Are you still planning to vouch for me?”

“As long as you don't suddenly grow horns and a tail and prove to me that you're as evil as she claims you are.”

He clasped a hand to his chest. “Ah, Rachel, your doubt wounds me. You think I'm evil?”

“I think you like to flirt. With temptation, that is,” she added.

He dropped his voice. “Even a prophet has desires.”

“Every human has desires.”

“Exactly.” He whispered his next question near her ear. “So what did your religion teach you about behaviors not mentioned in the Bible?”

“Such as…” she murmured.

“Oral sex.”

He must've been hoping to titillate her with this talk. He had no other reason to address such an intimate subject in the middle of the dance floor. But she refused to act flustered. “Completely off-limits.”

“Along with masturbation, I presume.”

“Of course.”

He grimaced. “How narrow-minded to curtail the enjoyment of God's greatest gift.”

This time she couldn't help laughing. “You can be quite irreverent, for a prophet.”

“Sometimes I meet someone who makes me wish I was just a regular man.” He drew her hand inside his jalabiya and placed it over his heart. “See? I, too, am made of flesh and bone.”

The smooth skin of his hairless chest took her off guard. Instead of pulling her hand away, she stared up at him, astonished by how easily he could manipulate people's emotions. One minute she hated him and everything he represented. The next she felt…almost attracted to him, in the same way one might peer over a cliff and be tempted to jump. Was it the siren call of letting go?

Then it dawned on her. He was the man every other male in the room admired, the man every female wanted. His sphere of influence might be limited to Paradise, but inside this microcosm he was everything. He had looks, money, power. And he wanted
her.
She was
no longer the idiot who'd confessed her love to Nate. Neither was she the outcast she'd been growing up, the girl usually left out, the one everyone whispered about. “Why won't her father let her color that picture? It's just a witch on a broomstick.” “She can't sing Christmas carols? How sad.” “She's the only one who didn't bring valentines for the class. We'll have to send her to the library during the party or we'll be hearing from her father.” “Look at her clothes. She wears a dress
every
day….”

Maybe Ethan was no Prince Charming, but the adoration of everyone in the room helped create the illusion that he was. And the way he was looking at her right now, as if she was all he'd ever wanted, made her feel strange.

Fortunately, whatever spell she was under broke as soon as Nate strode up and dragged her away.

 

“You were
touching
him. You had your hand in his freakin' Jesus robes.”

Nate was driving too fast. Rachel wanted him to slow down, but didn't ask. She felt foolish, didn't know how to explain what had come over her while she was dancing with Ethan. “The Holy One” was a poor substitute for the kind of man she really wanted, as different as Cain was from Abel. But in that moment, Nate hadn't mattered, and her father hadn't mattered, and it'd been such a relief to forget them.

Keeping her face averted, she gazed up at the moon.

“You don't have anything to say?” he prompted when she didn't respond.

“I was playing a part, Nate. I have to seem…open to him, right?”

“You have to be careful. If he decides he wants you, Rachel, we're going to be in trouble. It could blow the whole operation.”

“Everything will be fine.”

“You don't know that.”

“Stop worrying.”

“I can't help it, damn it!”

Taking a deep breath, she finally faced him. “Why not? If Ethan gets…out of hand, it's my problem, not yours.”

“Are you kidding? It's my problem, too! If he tries to take his interest too far, we'll have to head back to California just to keep you out of his bed—and that leaves him in power.”

“We won't have to take off,” she grumbled. “I can look after myself.”

“You can?”

If she could establish some emotional equilibrium…“Yes.”

He thumped a hand on the steering wheel. “So what are you saying? That you're willing to sleep with him if it comes down to it?”

She didn't even attempt a response.

“Just how far are you willing to go?”

“I don't have to answer that.”

He took a turn too fast. “Why the hell not?”

“Because it's none of your damn business, and it shouldn't matter to you one way or the other!” She hadn't meant to raise her voice, but she had, and he came right back at her.

“It's my job to keep you safe, for God's sake!”

“No, it's your job to infiltrate the cult and stop any abuse that's going on—the same as my job. You're not
my babysitter, you're my partner, Nate. While we're here, anyway. You wouldn't care if Drake or…or Roderick slept with someone in that commune in order to maintain a cover or get information. You'd consider their choices to be their choices. Why should I be any different?”

He opened his mouth as if to make a quick retort, clamped it shut, then reconsidered. “I don't condone operatives using anyone.”

“But you'd leave it up to them. That's all I'm saying.”

“It's not my job to be everyone's conscience.”

“Exactly my point!”

He fell silent until they reached Portal.

“Does this have anything to do with that night in January?” he asked as they came into town.