CHAPTER THREE
HAVING SKIPPED BREAKFAST, EDGE SUGGESTED THEY HIT A DRIVE-THROUGH in Denver for a quick snack, then eat a late lunch in Blancha Springs, where they might be able to find out a little about the group who called themselves the Children of the Sun.
Driving southwest out of Denver on US 285, they traveled along a road winding through grassy valleys dotted with ranches and farms and small rural communities. Rolling forested hills rose up along the sides of the valley and became distant peaks.
The sky was a clear cerulean blue, and there was only a light breeze moving over the land. It was drier and flatter as Edge drove closer to Blancha Springs, but there were plenty of pine-covered mountains surrounding the valley floor.
The San Isabel National Forest reached heights over 14,000 feet, and the route was scenic enough to hold Skye’s attention, though she managed to keep an eye on his driving—the reason he chose not to go more than a few miles over the speed limit.
Edge smiled to think he still made the hundred-fifty-mile journey in a little over two hours.
“There isn’t much here,” Skye said, glancing around as they pulled into the tiny town at the intersection of 285 and Highway 50, the road leading up to the Monarch Mountain ski area.
“Salida is less than ten miles away. It’s a popular tourist destination. Got restaurants, motels, whatever you can’t find in Blancha Springs.” Edge slowed the sports car as he spotted a sign above a small café.
“I’m ready for lunch,” he said. “That biscuit-and-egg wasn’t much more than a placeholder. How about we stop over there at the Hungry Bear? Maybe someone will know something about Daniel Henson or the Children of the Sun.”
“Good idea. Looks like a locals’ eatery.”
There were a couple of pickups and a big Dodge dually hitched to a horse trailer in the lot. Edge pulled in and parked beside the rig. He climbed out, and so did Skye, their shoes crunching on gravel as they crossed to the café.
A bell rang above the door, announcing their arrival. A sign read PLEASE SEAT YOURSELF, so Edge headed for the long Formica-topped counter that stretched across the room. Pink ruffled valances hung at the windows, and there was a scattering of tables and chairs.
Edge took a seat next to a beefy guy with a thick barrel chest. A stout, gray-haired woman with a ruddy complexion sat on the stool on the other side of Skye. The big guy next to him was wearing mechanic’s overalls with the name MAX embroidered on the pocket.
“You look like a local,” Edge said. “What’s good to eat in here?”
Max wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “Burgers are good. They got great chocolate milkshakes.”
Edge smiled. “Just what I’m in the mood for. Thanks.” He ordered a burger and shake, while Skye ordered a Caesar salad with chicken.
When the food arrived, Edge dug in. The burger was better than passable, or maybe he was just hungry. He turned to the guy beside him. “This is great. Thanks for suggesting it.”
“Not many places to go around here, ’less you go on over to Salida.”
“Actually, we’re headed in the other direction. We’re looking for a place not far from here, a church of some kind called the Children of the Sun. You ever heard of it?”
“Not many people around so, yeah, I’ve heard of it. Guy named Daniel Henson runs it. Doesn’t come to town very often. Not him nor any of the folks who live out there.”
“So I guess they keep mostly to themselves.”
Max nodded. “Seen a few of the women in town buyin’ groceries. The young ones are a fine-lookin’ bunch. Probably the reason he keeps ’em wearing those long ugly dresses, like they was Amish or something. Hell, maybe they are.”
Vaguely unsettled, Edge went back to his burger.
Max consumed his meal and polished off the last of a massive pile of fries. “So what’s your business out there?”
“A friend has a daughter who joined the group. She’s worried about her. We told her we’d make sure the girl was okay.”
Max nodded, dipped the last fry on his plate into a spot of ketchup. “Probably a good idea, considering the way Henson watchdogs everyone who lives there.” He popped the fry into his mouth and waved the server over for his check.
“Thanks again for the suggestion,” Edge said. “The burger wasn’t half bad.”
Max nodded. “Good luck with Henson.” Rising from the stool, he headed out the door.
Edge glanced over at Skye, who was talking to the older, gray-haired lady beside her. He couldn’t hear the conversation, but Skye was definitely frowning.
As soon she finished her salad, Edge asked for the check and paid the bill. They left the café and set off for the car. A couple of kids were riding their bikes in circles around the gravel lot, spinning wheelies like Edge and his brothers used to do when they were kids out at the ranch.
He’d been raised on the Diamond Bar, a big cattle ranch three hours northwest of Denver, but even as a kid, he’d wanted a different future. By the time their parents were gone, Edge and Gage had both been happy to let Kade run the ranch, a place their oldest brother dearly loved.
As Edge settled in the car, he returned his attention to Skye. “You were talking to the woman next to you. Learn anything useful?”
“It was kind of a strange conversation.” Sky clicked her seat belt in place. “Dora—that was her name—said no one knows much about the group. They’re a secretive bunch, according to Dora. They only come to town for groceries, and the women never come without the men.”
“The guy next to me said basically the same thing, though he didn’t mention any men. Seemed more interested in the women, said the young ones were pretty.”
“Like Callie,” Skye said. “Dora told me she feels sorry for the women who live out there. Says the husbands completely dominate them. According to Henson, they’re only following what’s written in the Bible, that a man is supposed to be the head of the family, but Dora says from what she’s heard, they carry it to the extreme.”
“This is getting more and more interesting,” Edge said as he drove out of the lot. “I can’t wait to meet Daniel Henson.”
From what he’d seen on Google Maps, the property was off the highway, several miles out of town down a poorly maintained dirt road. Once they approached the tall wrought-iron gate, Edge could see the roof of a building with a steeple on top just over a rise. He pulled to a stop in front of the gate, which was next to a hip-roofed beige stucco gatehouse.
A big, thick-chested man walked out of the narrow building and came outside the compound through a smaller gate on the side of the main entrance. Edge buzzed down his window as the guard approached.
“Can I help you?” He was in his mid-thirties, with short red hair and a full red beard. Dressed in a khaki shirt, jeans, and high-topped, rough-out leather boots, he wore a sidearm clipped to his belt. Edge was suddenly glad he had brought his own weapons. Not that he traveled far without them.
“We’d like to talk to Callie Delaney,” Edge said. “She’s one of the women who lives here.”
The red-bearded man straightened. “You’ll need to speak to Reverend Henson about that, but the reverend ain’t here. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”
Skye leaned across Edge to speak to the guard through the open window. Strands of her hair brushed his cheek, and the scent of roses drifted over him. His groin tightened.
“We’ve driven all the way from Denver,” Skye said. “Maybe you could ask Callie to come to the gate and we could speak to her here.”
“Not my call. Like I said, you need to talk to the reverend.” He didn’t say more, and Skye ducked back to her side of the car. Edge didn’t miss her softly muttered curse.
“Are you sure Henson will be here tomorrow?” he asked.
“He’ll be here.”
“What time?”
“What’s your name?” the gate guard asked.
“I’m Edge Logan, and she’s Skye Delaney. Skye is Callie’s sister.”
“You want to speak to the reverend, you best come out around ten. He’ll be getting ready for his daily sermon.”
Skye leaned over Edge again and a soft breast brushed his arm. Her nipple instantly hardened, and arousal stirred beneath the fly of his jeans.
“Could you give Callie a message?” Skye asked. “Could you let her know her sister wants to see her?”
“Talk to the reverend,” the guard said curtly, then turned and walked back through the gate, which clanked shut behind him.
Edge put the car in reverse, backed up and turned around, drove off down the dirt road toward town.
“Looks like we’ll be coming back out here tomorrow,” he said. “We better find a place to land for the night.”
“We could . . . umm . . . drive back to Denver, then return tomorrow morning.”
Thinking of the tight fit of his jeans, it was probably best if they did. “Your call.”
Skye’s gaze remained straight ahead. “Seems stupid to drive all that way. We might as well get a room.” The minute the words were out of her mouth, a flush rose in her cheeks. “I mean two rooms.”
Edge flicked her a sideways glance. “One room or two. Like I said—it’s your call.”
Skye’s pretty sea-green eyes widened. Nervously, she toyed with her ponytail, tightening the band that held it in place.
“I brought my laptop,” she said, pointedly ignoring his comment. “I can use the time to dig around, see if I can find out anything more about Henson or the group.”
Edge tried to convince himself he wasn’t disappointed. He had never made an outright advance to Skye, never even hinted that he was interested in her as a woman.
Now that he had, he wondered why he’d waited so long.
“Why don’t you take a look at your phone, see if you can find a room—or two—somewhere in the area?”
Skye took out her cell and began tapping away. In minutes, she was scanning the short list of motels in the tiny town. “There’s one called the Trails West Inn. Looking at the photos, the rooms are definitely basic, but it has several vacancies.”
The red neon vacancy sign was lit when Edge drove up in front. He wasn’t surprised. The motel was nothing more than a row of six rooms with a gravel parking lot in front. At least the white stucco building appeared to be newly painted, and the corridor looked clean.
They went into the office together, and Edge rang the bell on the front desk. A few minutes later, the desk clerk arrived, an older man in a white T-shirt, with a big beer belly and iron-gray hair.
“We need a couple of rooms,” Edge said, wishing Skye would change her mind and ask him to spend the night. His imagination was already running wild with images of her naked, her sexy smile inviting him to join her in bed.
Inwardly, he sighed. Not going to happen.
He almost smiled. At least not tonight.
The gray-haired desk clerk handed over two room keys, and Edge handed one of them to Skye. “Why don’t we work a while, then drive over to Salida for supper? They’ve got a lot more restaurants to choose from.”
Skye looked up at him. “I’ve . . . umm . . . got a lot to do. I think I’ll just stay here and work on my laptop. If you go out, maybe you can bring something back for me.”
“Sure, no problem.” Turning away, he walked her down the corridor, waited until she opened the door to her room, then headed for the room next door. It wasn’t often a woman he was interested in had no interest in him. It was hard on his ego, that was for sure.
But as he shoved his key into the lock, he noticed that Skye still stood in the corridor watching him. Edge couldn’t help hoping that in time he could change her mind.