Nick couldn’t have picked a better partner.
Avery was handling the pressure like a pro. He couldn’t believe how well she was doing, considering her personal history. She’d passed the interview with flying colors. He’d figured she could get through it, but he hadn’t expected her to be so poised. He’d seen genuine tears in her eyes when she’d claimed to want his baby. She’d known exactly what to say and when to say it. Jonah Silva had lapped up every word.
Before the meeting, Nick had thought he’d made a real connection with Jonah. Apparently not, because the young leader had forgotten him the moment he’d set eyes on “Ellen.” After a light interrogation, Jonah had called the vote. It was clear he wanted to take them on as members. Or, just her. Either way, they were in.
The real test had started as soon as they exited the vehicle. Being forced to strip naked and walk through the woods, blindfolded, was an unsettling experience. He hadn’t been thrilled about taking off his clothes, but losing his watch was a bigger problem. Nick hoped they didn’t inspect the Timex, because it had been modified with a few FBI upgrades. The communication device and GPS unit were carefully disguised as ordinary components, but they could be discovered if someone tech-savvy took the pieces apart. Were there any tech-savvy members in The Haven? Nick didn’t know.
Avery had been even more reluctant to disrobe than Nick, which was fine. These throwbacks didn’t trust women who removed their clothes easily. Nick was glad she hadn’t refused outright and told Jonah to go to hell.
Nick understood why they’d been ordered to strip. Jonah was paranoid about outsiders. He wanted to make sure the Deans weren’t bringing in contraband, and he’d wanted them to feel powerless. Nick had to assume that Jonah wanted to see Avery naked, as well. He would relish the sight of a beautiful young woman doing his bidding. Nick had tried to ruin the show by shielding her from view, but his efforts might have been in vain. Jonah had seen her by the pool, regardless. He hadn’t gaped at her like a kid in a candy shop, but he’d catalogued the goods. Nick had watched his eyes skim over her naked body before she donned her robe. Nick had forced himself to stay silent, his hands clenched into fists.
Nick wasn’t sure how to categorize Jonah Silva. Nick considered everyone in the cult a perpetrator or a victim. Although Jonah didn’t strike him as a victim, his actions so far were more creepy than criminal. The young leader presented himself as a milder sort of extremist. He didn’t have a harem of teenaged wives. He didn’t talk about watering the tree of liberty with the blood of patriots. That didn’t mean he was a decent person, or an innocent bystander in his father’s antigovernment plots. Nick didn’t really care what Jonah believed or didn’t believe. If the aspiring guru laid a hand on Avery, Nick would make him pay. Until then, Nick would use every chess piece to his advantage. The fact that Jonah liked beautiful woman, including Avery, worked to Nick’s advantage.
They survived the blessing ceremony, which was thankfully short. Both Nick and Avery were treated to a dunk of ice-cold water. Jonah read some mumbo-jumbo from his book. Then it was over, and they waded out of the pool.
Avery shivered beside him, her teeth chattering. The wet robe clung to her curves. Nick put his arm around her and pressed his lips to her damp hair. She didn’t shove him away, but she tensed at his touch. She hated every moment of this, and it wasn’t Jonah she blamed for putting her through the ordeal. It was Nick.
Sister Imogen handed them a pair of scratchy towels, her lips pursed with distaste. Nick gave his towel to Avery. She tucked one around her body and wore the other over her head like a shroud, hiding her pale face. They walked another half mile or so to the edge of the compound. It was surrounded by an ordinary chain-link fence, about eight feet high, with no razor wire or any additional barriers. The real deterrent was the armed guard standing sentry at the front gate. A pimple-faced boy with an army jacket and a rifle said hello to Jonah.
Then they were inside. Nick wanted to pump his fist in the air and shout celebratory curses in multiple languages. Instead, he got down on his hands and knees and kissed the ground. Then he hugged Jonah around the ankles. It didn’t feel natural to take such a submissive position, but Nick had to go the extra mile. He blubbered his thanks in a hoarse voice. Jonah patted his head like he was a good dog.
Nick rose, wiping imaginary tears from his eyes. When he put his arm around Avery again, she wasn’t quite as stiff. If he could soothe her embarrassment by humiliating himself, he would.
Jonah smiled at them indulgently. “I’ll let Sister Imogen get you settled.”
Brother Sage walked away with Jonah while Imogen stayed behind. Twilight had settled over the commune, but there was a lighted pathway in the distance.
“You have electricity,” Nick commented.
“It’s solar,” Imogen said, leading them toward a row of rustic cabins. “These are our one-bedroom units, for couples or small families. Bathrooms and showers are there.” She pointed to two structures on the opposite side of the path. It was like a campground, with separate facilities for men and women. Nick already knew all of this from the photos, but he was fascinated by the close-up view.
Imogen stopped at the last cabin. “Here you are. We’ve missed supper, but there should be some provisions inside. And clothes, though I’m not sure they’ll fit.” She frowned at Avery. “I’ll have to bring shoes for both of you. What sizes?”
“Twelve,” Nick said.
“Seven,” Avery murmured.
Imogen nodded. “I’ll send them over within the hour. We have a music recital tonight. Everyone attends.”
“At what time?” Nick asked.
“Eight. You’ll hear the bell.”
Nick clasped one of her hands between his. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she said to him, sounding genuine. With a sniff at Avery, she turned on her heel and left.
Nick opened the door and ushered Avery inside. The cabin had electricity, but little else. There was a work table, two ladder-back chairs and an old-fashioned wood-fired stove. The kitchen sink was the only hint of running water. In the bedroom, which had no door, there was a twin bed that wouldn’t fit Nick by himself, let alone Nick and Avery together. A pile of clothes, folded neatly, sat on top of the blankets.
Nick touched a finger to his lips, although Avery hadn’t said a word. He gestured for her to get dressed while he inspected the rest of the cabin. It appeared clean and bare. After she was finished dressing, he took his turn in the bedroom. There were homespun pants and a shirt for him, along with long-john underwear and socks. He searched every inch of the space as he donned the clothes. There were no listening devices or hidden cameras inside. An empty basket sat at the foot of the bed.
He emerged from the bedroom, noting that her clothes didn’t fit as well as his. Her blouse was several sizes too small. She’d left it unbuttoned, revealing white muslin undergarments that were as old-fashioned as his. She crossed her arms over her chest, self-conscious. Nick wasn’t sure she would accept his comfort, but he had to give it a try. He drew her into an embrace, which she endured as stoically as she’d endured everything else today.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Are you?”
“I didn’t know they’d make us strip.”
“You said you’d protect me,” she whispered.
“And I will,” he said, releasing her. “No one will lay a hand on you.”
“But they can look their fill?”
“That won’t happen again.”
She turned her face away. She didn’t trust him.
He grasped her chin to bring her gaze back to his. “You’re doing great. I loved what you said in the interview.”
“You would.”
Damn, she was beautiful. Her hair was damp, her skin flushed. Devoid of makeup, she looked younger and more touchable. Her unpainted mouth beckoned. He knew better than to dip his head for a taste. She wouldn’t respond the way she had earlier, with fevered kissing and hands all over him. This morning’s yes had turned into a permanent no. She didn’t even want to sleep next to him.
And yet, he felt the same heat between them, the same temptation. The kisses they’d shared had been the hottest of his life. He could imagine how good they would be in bed together. Even so, he didn’t plan to act on his attraction. He brushed a thumb over her cheek, swamped with regrets.
A thump outside the cabin interrupted the moment. She pulled away from him, seeming flustered. He opened the door to find a bundle wrapped in a burlap sack. The delivery boy scuttled away into the twilight. Nick brought the sack inside and upended it. There were two pairs of leather boots and wool socks, along with a different blouse for her and a belt for him. He donned the boots and belt while she changed her blouse. The boots for him were almost new. Hers were worn and scuffed. The second blouse was an improvement over the first, but only because she could button the front. It was faded gray, and so big it could fit two of her. Nick wondered if Sister Imogen had selected the unflattering attire on purpose. Avery sat down to put on the boots, her nose wrinkled with distaste.
“Someone doesn’t like you,” Nick ventured.
“I gathered that.”
“Do you know why?”
She gaped at him. “You don’t?”
“No.”
Instead of saying it outright, she made a heart shape in the air and mouthed “Jonah.” Nick puzzled out her implication. Imogen was in love with Jonah, but her feelings weren’t reciprocated, and Jonah had been making eyes at “Ellen.” Therefore, Sister Imogen was jealous of Ellen. That made sense. Nick was glad to have a perceptive partner to interpret these emotional undercurrents for him. Avery might not be enjoying this assignment, but she was doing a bang-up job.
There was a simple meal of bread and cheese at the table. A small collection of ceramic dishes were stacked on the counter next to the sink. Avery filled two mugs with water. Nick tore off a hunk of bread and paired it with a chunk of cheese. The bread had herbs in it and the cheese tasted fresh. He ate in ravenous bites.
“I’m going to ask for my watch back,” he said, swallowing. “I need it to remember my routines.”
“I need my glasses,” she said. “Ask for those, too.”
He grabbed more bread. “Okay.”
“Do you think you’ll have to get on your knees again?”
If the question was meant to make him feel less masculine, it worked. He wasn’t proud of his actions as Nick Dean today. He’d allowed his wife to be ogled by strangers. Instead of objecting to the mistreatment, he’d thanked her ogler. Avery seemed to be suggesting that Nick was willing to do anything, including service another man sexually, for this assignment. He wasn’t quite that dedicated. “The next time I get on my knees, it will be for you.”
She flushed at the comment. “Don’t hold your breath.”
“I never do.”
They finished their meal in silence. He probably shouldn’t have baited her, but she’d fired the first shot. Also, a bit of verbal sparring wasn’t the worst thing for a married couple. Disagreements indicated strong feelings. Passion, even. His parents had fought like cats and dogs, but they’d always made up afterward. Nick was struck by a vivid recollection of his mother throwing a teacup at his father, who’d ducked just in time. Porcelain had smashed on the wall behind his head.
Nick frowned at the memory, which he hadn’t thought of in years. He didn’t know why he was thinking of it now. He didn’t need passion with Avery. There was no reason to act like a real married couple behind closed doors. He should be trying to help her stay calm, not ramping up the tension between them. Spats and sexual innuendo wouldn’t put her at ease. Fantasizing about giving her pleasure wouldn’t help him sleep at night, either. He was already aroused by the idea, his pulse throbbing with awareness.
He tore his gaze away from her, because he couldn’t afford the distraction. He wasn’t here to lust after his partner—or to catch feelings for her. He was here to take down Silva by any means possible.
After dinner he went outside to look around. He visited the men’s restroom, checking out the facilities. There were shower stalls and basic facilities. Sinks with mirrors. Nick wondered if he’d get access to a shaving kit. Surely some of the men used razors. Old-fashioned straight razors. He touched the fine grains of stubble on his jaw, contemplative. A blade like that would have multiple uses.
A bell rang in the church tower, startling him. It was time to join the club. He found Avery waiting for him on the front step of the cabin. Other members were heading down the lighted footpath in the distance. When he grasped her hand, she came with him.
“Do you think he’ll be there?” she murmured.
She meant Father Jeff. He could hear the edge of fear in her voice. Nick thought of the straight razor again, visualizing its impact on human organs. “If he’s there, we’ll meet him, and everything will be fine.”
She didn’t ask about her sister. Maybe it was too overwhelming to consider, or less of a concern because the girl wouldn’t recognize her. Nick was confident that no one else would, either. They hadn’t seen her since she was a child, twenty years ago. She was a full-grown woman now with lush curves and a mature face.
“You look nice,” he said.
“In these clothes? Really?”
“Yes,” he said, scanning her figure. She’d tucked the blouse into her skirt to disguise its voluminous shape. The outfit wasn’t flattering, but it didn’t matter what she was wearing. Avery Samuels, a.k.a. Ellen Dean, was a natural beauty. Her hair, which had dried in tousled waves, glinted in the moonlight.
“I feel naked without makeup.”
“I feel naked without my gun.”
She shuddered at this admission. They were alone on the path, so he wasn’t worried about anyone overhearing their conversation, but maybe it was better to stay silent about certain things. He should work on being more a sensitive “husband.” There was no need to remind her of the danger they were in. She knew he was unarmed, and she didn’t trust him to protect her. He hoped he wouldn’t have to kill anyone in front of her. If the mission went according to plan, she’d get out before hell broke loose.
“Sorry,” he said gruffly. “I keep putting my foot in my mouth.”
She seemed surprised by his apology. “Can we speak freely in the cabin?”
“Not yet. I’ll inspect it tomorrow in the daylight.”
The music recital took place inside the church, which was only a short walk from the cabins. It was a modest building that housed about a hundred parishioners. When Nick and Avery arrived, almost every pew was full. There were some furtive whispers and curious stares as they entered the space. Nick scanned the crowd for Jeff Silva, but didn’t see him. There were a couple of open seats in the back row, so he guided Avery that direction. Before they reached it, a large man in overalls blocked the aisle.
“You must be the newcomers,” he said, glancing back and forth between them. “I’m Brother Rupert.”
Nick accepted Rupert’s hearty handshake. “Nick Dean.”
“Brother Nick,” Rupert corrected. “And who’s this pretty lady?”
“I’m Sister Ellen,” Avery said with a smile. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise,” he said, pumping her hand. He had a homely face, dotted with pockmarks. “Why’d you marry this ugly fella?”
Avery blinked in confusion. “Do you mean Nick?”
Brother Rupert laughed, slapping his knee. “I guess they can’t all be as handsome as me.”
A woman next to Rupert gave him a chiding look. She was a short, round woman with silver-threaded hair. “Are you scaring off the new members?”
Rupert kept chuckling at his own joke.
“Ignore him,” the woman said. “I’m Sister Margot.”
Avery said a polite hello. The older woman chatted about the recital and her granddaughter, who was one of the performers. Then a strange look came over her face, as if she’d realized something important.
“My goodness,” she said, studying Avery intently.
Avery went still as a statue beside him. Nick grasped her elbow in warning. No matter what happened, they had to brazen it out. She couldn’t run away at the first sign of trouble. He wouldn’t let her.
“You’re wearing one of my old blouses.”
Her blouse. Nick released a slow breath of relief. False alarm. Sister Margot had recognized Avery’s blouse.
“Sister Imogen gave it to me,” Avery stammered.
“Did she? Well, that just won’t do, will it? A lovely girl like you in old rags.”
“I’m fine in this.”
“Nonsense. I have some pretty outfits that belonged to my daughter, God rest her soul. She was about your size.”
“Oh, I couldn’t,” Avery said.
“Of course you can,” Margot replied. “I need to let go of those things, dearie. You can help me by putting them to good use.”
There was no way to argue with that, so Avery didn’t try.
“Which cabin are you in?”
“The last one,” Nick said.
Sister Margot nodded with pleasure. “It’s settled. Let’s sit down.”
Nick took the space next to Avery at the end of the pew. He could feel the tension in her body, still wound up tight. He threaded their hands together. Although she didn’t seem comfortable with the contact, they had to do it. Every time they touched, it would get easier. The electric current of physical chemistry would start to feel normal, even humdrum.
Jonah Silva walked onto the stage and stood behind a podium. He waited for the crowd to quiet, his handsome face drawn into a jovial mask.
“Good evening, Haven.”
“Good evening, Brother Jonah!” the entire flock replied. Avery jumped at the sound, though she must have expected it. Surely they’d done this twenty years ago. The same responses to the same statements.
“My father can’t be here tonight. He sends his deepest regrets.” The audience didn’t seem surprised by this announcement. Jonah moved on quickly. “As you may have noticed, we have some special guests. I made the decision to invite two new members into our family. We’ll celebrate their initiation tomorrow at holy service. For now, let’s give them a warm welcome. Brother Nick and Sister Ellen, please stand.”
When Nick rose to his feet, Avery stood with him. Her frozen smile matched the stilted clapping in the crowd. Nick scanned the members, noting the odd composition of family units. Groups of women, and scores of children, sat with single men.
Jonah gave the signal to quiet, so Nick and Avery took their seats again. Then Jonah introduced the music teacher, and the recital continued like any other. Children of various ages took the stage and began playing set pieces. They were quite good with their instruments. Without television or technology, mastery of this simple pastime flourished.
It was charming, despite the creepy undertones of bigamy and brainwashing. For the finale, a teenaged girl took the stage with her violin. She began a haunting solo that sent Nick back to Venezuela for the second time this evening. His mother had played the cello with passionate melancholy, every note bleeding from her fingertips.
He swallowed hard, blinking the tears from his eyes. The display of emotion bewildered and embarrassed him. He didn’t cry in public. He didn’t even cry in private. Something about this place, or the fraught situation, reminded him of his birth parents. They’d both been a pair of extremists in their own right. They’d died for their ideals—and he’d mourned them properly. He’d visited their graves, said goodbye and closed the door.
Avery’s nudge reminded him to applaud. He’d been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed the performance was over. He covered for his inattention by standing and clapping. Margot and Rupert followed suit. Then the rest of the audience was on their feet, giving thunderous applause.
After the recital was over, families lingered to reunite with performers. Nick and Avery slipped away. He was eager to leave the close confines of the church. The events of the day had rattled him more than he’d realized; he was getting choked up over a kids’ show. He didn’t take Avery’s hand on the lighted path. He felt too raw, his nerves on edge.
“Did you play an instrument?” she asked, tentative.
“No. You?”
“The harp.”
He could imagine her strumming the harp in the church choir. If she hadn’t escaped, this would have been her fate. Molded into a perfect angel, with pale, flowing hair. “My mother played the cello.”
She studied his face with interest. He didn’t know why he’d given that detail, unprompted. He tore his gaze away, clearing his throat. She tucked her arm in the crook of his elbow as they continued down the path.
Inside the cabin, there was no discussion of sleeping arrangements. No eye contact as he gathered a blanket and pillow from the bed. No words as he passed by her in the doorway. He was glad for the rug on the hardwood floor in the main room, which became his sleeping mat. He stretched out on his back. She turned off the lights. He could hear the mattress springs as she climbed into bed.
Then, no sound. No tossing and turning. Just stillness and tension.
Nick tucked his hands behind his head and stared into the oppressive dark. He was uncomfortable, but not for the reasons he’d expected. Instead of body aches or physical desires, he was plagued with feelings. Some were about Avery. Others were about himself, his disrupted childhood and issues unresolved. The closure he thought he’d attained seemed incomplete now. Moving on wasn’t the same as mourning.
Music from the past and present echoed in his ears for many hours before he slept.