Military Men

by Shelley Munro

  “You need the money?” Sorrel asked in a dangerous voice. “If it’s a trust, the money belongs to everyone. It’s not yours to spend.”

  “Brother Samuel had no right to give the power to a woman.” Venom coated his voice as he pushed his face close to hers. “You will sign it over to me.”

  “No.” She didn’t hesitate. “I won’t.”

  Brother Rick grabbed her arm and shook her.

  Sorrel wrenched away. “Get your hands off me.”

  His eyes promised retribution, and before she could heed the warning, he backhanded her. Her head snapped back, the crack of palm against skin almost as alarming as the jerk of pain. He grasped her shoulders again, shaking her for a second time, fury a dark slash on his face. “You will give me that money.”

  “No.” She backed away, old fears gripping her for an instant.

  The door to Brother Rick’s quarters flew open, startling them both.

  “Get out,” Brother Rick snarled without looking over his shoulder.

  Brother Felix hovered in the doorway.

  But Brother Rick’s concentration was divided, and Sorrel found her mettle. She shoved him hard, the brief self-defense tips from Jake coming back. She stomped on his foot, kicked his knee and headed for the door.

  She managed to get past Brother Rick, but he grabbed her from behind, his fingers digging into her upper arms. Sorrel forced herself to relax, to sag against his chest. Then, she lifted her right leg and kicked back with her heel, striking his groin with every ounce of force she could muster.

  He let out a pained howl and a whimper, dropping to a heap, cupping his groin.

  “What’s going on?” Jake’s voice.

  Sorrel pushed past Brother Felix and fell straight into Jake’s arms.

  “They kidnapped me. I want to press charges.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jake ignored Brother Rick writhing on the floor and the gaping Brother Felix. He wrapped an arm around Sorrel’s waist and urged her toward her workshop, the one place he could think of where no one was likely to barge in on them. Sorrel would be safe until Luke came to take over.

  “Did he hurt you?”

  “Not really. There’s something weird going on though. He’s acting desperate. He needs money for something.”

  “Is that all he said?”

  Sorrel stopped walking, her gaze on something across the other side of the compound. “What are those?”

  Jake exerted enough pressure at her back to make her start walking again. “Brother Rick has visitors.”

  “With motorbikes?” She scrunched her nose. “Wait, Janaya mentioned something about gang members. Brain is foggy.”

  “Sorrel, not now. Please.” He should’ve guessed she’d ask questions. She’d gained her independence and relished the lack of personal restraints. It was silly of him to expect her to stuff her newfound freedom back in a box and blindly obey his orders. “Brother Rick invited members of the Rebel Brothers to visit.”

  “Why?”

  “No idea. They arrived last night.” He’d watched those guys. They had an eye for women. Damn if he’d let them near his woman. He directed her around the outskirts of the open ground, relaxing once they reached the workshop. Opening the door, he urged her inside.

  “Hoy. You.”

  “Fuck,” Jake said.

  “I’m talking to you,” the hard male voice roared across the compound.

  Jake fumbled in his pocket for his phone and shoved it at Sorrel. “Ring Luke. Speed dial one. Tell him we need him now.”

  Jake took a deep breath and consciously slumped. He turned to face the two gang members standing in the doorway of the dining room. Cursing under his breath, he started limping in their direction until he was a few feet from them. “Can I help you with something?”

  “Who is the woman?”

  Jake glanced over his shoulder. He relaxed a fraction when he saw Sorrel speaking on the phone.

  “She’s from the council,” he explained with deference that almost choked him. “She’s checking the facilities here at the compound to make sure they’re up to standard.”

  The compound residents started drifting out, streaming around the two gang members.

  “What is Bitter doing here?” one of the men asked. “Why is she dressed like that?”

  “I thought she’d left the compound,” one of the women said.

  “You know the woman?” a third gang member asked.

  Jake hated the way this was heading.

  The first man focused on Jake. “Why did you lie?”

  Not good at all.

  “Could it be,” the man continued, “you have an attachment to this woman?”

  Jake didn’t reply. Instead he prayed for reinforcements soon because this had the makings of another cluster fuck.

  * * * * *

  Sorrel’s hand trembled as she pushed speed dial.

  “Morgan,” Luke barked.

  “It’s Sorrel. I’m at the compound. Jake said get your butts here now.”

  “We’re on our way already. Five minutes.”

  Sorrel shoved the phone into the waistband of her skirt.

  “Girlie, over here,” one of the gang members hollered.

  More people spilled from the dining hall at his yell. More gang members. Their presence screamed something illegal.

  “Don’t make me come and get you.”

  The warning in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. Bother, she should’ve hidden. She eyed the gates to the compound then the big, bald man in scruffy jeans and leather vest. Anger bristled off him in waves. Her gaze drifted to the gates again.

  Maybe it wasn’t too late to run. She was off, sprinting toward the entrance before the thought half-formed.

  “Stop.” An angry shout whipped her fear. She pushed herself harder. Her feet pounded the gravel path, her heart galloped, dread giving her an extra edge of speed.

  “Open the gates,” she screamed at the two elderly security guards. As usual they moved at the pace of runny honey on a cold day. One of them exited the small shelter to the side and stood, staring at her.

  Sorrel kept running, kept screeching at them.

  The roar of a motorbike split the air. Sorrel gasped, saw the bike with the rider leaning low when she risked a glance over her shoulder. Even from this distance, anger emanated off him. She reached the gates and started climbing, fervently wishing she’d donned her new pair of comfortable jeans. The sound of the bike grew louder, meaner, until it vibrated inside her head.

  Danger. Danger. Danger.

  The bike screeched to a stop. A dust cloud clogged her throat. She coughed and kept moving. Rough hands grabbed her just as she swung her leg over the top rail. She struggled, kicked, but to no avail. The man grasped her by the waist and hoisted her down as if she weighed nothing more than a batch of bath bombs.

  “What have we here?” he rasped in her ear.

  His breath wafted over her, the blast of garlic telling her everyone had dined on lasagna during their recent meal.

  “Girlie, where have you been hiding?” He hauled her toward his motorbike.

  “If you think I’m getting on that, you’ve got rocks in your head,” she snapped before she could think better of the remark. She closed her eyes, heart still trying to burrow from her chest. Maybe now wasn’t the best time to channel Janaya and Alice.

  When he reached his bike, he kept an iron grip on her wrist. He straddled the machine without releasing her. “You will get on my bike behind me. You will hold on to me because I’d hate you to fall off and graze this pretty skin.” His finger traveled up one of her arms and skipped to her upper chest, impudently slipping downward into her cleavage.

  Sorrel held still, instinctively knowing if she disobeyed the situation would worsen. She gave a clipped nod of acknowledgement.

  “Girlie, I can tell we’re going to get on well together.”

  Luke had told her five minutes. Where was he?

  The man patted the
seat behind him. Sorrel eyed it with disfavor. Yeah, those jeans were looking good right now. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her leg and swung it over the bike.

  “Matching black panties,” the man purred. “Sexy.”

  She hated the way he was eyeing her like a luscious treat. She’d much prefer the anger he’d displayed when he’d hollered at her.

  The bike took off with a roar. Sorrel let out a shriek and clutched his waist. She heard his laughter as he raced across the compound.

  Thankfully, it was a quick trip. She scrambled off the instant the bike stopped, attempting to wriggle free of his grip.

  “You’re coming with me.” His eyes gleamed with heat. Sexual lust.

  Sorrel gave another futile tug for freedom. “No. I won’t.”

  Silence fell, scary in its nothingness.

  Jake scowled at the man. “She said no. Let her go.”

  The man ignored her objections, ignored Jake and started towing her toward the men’s sleeping quarters. “I’m going to fuck the feistiness out of you, girlie.”

  “No,” Sorrel said.

  “Get your hands off her,” Jake snarled, advancing two steps.

  Before he could reach the big man holding her captive, two of the other bikers grabbed him. Sorrel struggled, and Jake fought to help her, despite the two men impeding him.

  Sister Andrea appeared from the kitchen entrance of the dining hall, a pot in hand. “Sorrel, what—” She broke off abruptly. “You let her go.”

  “What are you going to do about it?” The man holding Sorrel captive snickered.

  Sister Andrea fired the heavy pot at his head. It hit with a resounding thump. Sorrel jerked free and turned to flee. The man let out a wounded-bull roar and charged Sister Andrea.

  Another pot flew through the air, fired by another one of the sisters who’d appeared behind Sister Andrea.

  Suddenly the mood of the crowd changed. Instead of cowering, they flocked around the gang members, overwhelming them by sheer numbers and inventiveness when it came to weapons. Rolling pins, sandals and more pots lobbed through the air.

  A siren became audible in the distance. Strong arms surrounded her, and she whipped around ready to fight.

  “Steady, sweetheart.” Blood trickled down Jake’s cheek from a nick above his left eyebrow. He drew her to a clear space near the exterior dining hall wall. “Are you okay?”

  “Maybe a bruise or two.”

  “I’m proud of you,” he whispered against her ear.

  “Why?” Despite her confusion, warmth built in her chest, a small spark of pleasure. No one, apart from her mother, had ever been proud of her before.

  “You fought back.”

  Three police vehicles arrived and the security men moved with alacrity to let them inside the compound. Luke and the other policemen soon had the gang members subdued.

  Brother Rick appeared behind them. “What is going on here?” he asked, the strident voice of authority. He approached in a gingerly manner, his slight limp raising a smile. Go, her.

  Luke approached him with confidence inherent in his every move. “You’re under arrest for kidnapping of Sorrel Thyme.”

  “I didn’t kidnap her. Look, she’s standing over there. Bitter. Bitter!”

  Sorrel’s eyes narrowed. “My name is Sorrel, and I want to press charges. He grabbed me in town, drugged me and brought me here without my consent. He tried to force me to sign a document so he could spend the funds the Brother Samuel set aside for the benefit of the people who live in the compound.” She paused to take a breath, anger a serpent slithering through her veins.

  “She’s lying.”

  “I am not. I also suspect him of poisoning Brother Samuel.”

  “That’s a vicious lie.”

  “You’ve treated me like a slave. Why have you encouraged everyone else to treat me in the same manner?”

  “She’s lying,” Brother Rick spat. “My father ate poisonous mushrooms by mistake. Others were sick too.”

  “I might not be able to prove what I’m saying, but I know the truth in my heart.”

  The members of Children of Nature had fallen silent, listening to every word Sorrel uttered. Now they started low murmurs of discontent.

  “I knew I didn’t put poisonous mushrooms in my stew,” Sister Andrea said with an emphatic nod.

  A dull fan of red moved up Brother Rick’s throat. “Surely you’re not going to listen to her. She’s lying. Look at her.” He appealed to the brothers and sisters. “She’s gone against every one of our beliefs. She’s sold out.”

  “You forced her out.” Sister Andrea advanced on him. “The chickens are treated better than Sorrel. You made sure she ate no more than once a day. You instructed us to call her Bitter, and you worked her hard to keep the store stocked with products.”

  “Aye, and you told us to sell everything at a dollar each so she had to work even more to keep up with demand,” another sister called. “The stallholder in Papakura was furious because his supply of cheap stock ceased.”

  “Take him away,” someone else called.

  “We’re better off without him.”

  “He brought those men here.”

  “He made me sleep with one of them,” a young girl said.

  Luke hauled Brother Rick away, still protesting his innocence. The crowd continued to throw complaints after him. The other officers dealt with the gang members.

  “Where is Brother Felix?” Sorrel asked.

  “I haven’t seen him.” Jake kept his arms loosely circled around her, giving Sorrel a sense of safety and support. “Don’t worry. Luke will catch all the culprits. He’s good at his job. Are you ready to leave?”

  “I’ll just grab my mother’s books from the office,” Sorrel said.

  Jake took her hand and turned in the direction of the office.

  “Are you going?” Sister Andrea asked.

  “As soon as I get my mother’s books.”

  “I thought you’d stay and help us regain our original form and intent,” Sister Andrea said.

  “No, I have a job now. I’m ready for change.”

  “But what will we do?” another sister asked. “We need a leader.”

  “You do. But it won’t be me. You need a man or woman who treats everyone as equal, someone who is open and transparent in their dealings. Have a meeting. Everyone interested in the job should toss their names in a hat then hold an election.”

  “Yes.” Sister Andrea’s gaze strayed to the distant horizon, her brow puckered as if she were involved in heavy thinking. “Yes. I’m tired of following the orders of a man, tired of the way we’ve been treated. I think we should have a female leader for a change. We need to make money. How will we do that?”

  “Keep up the lease on the shop and sell the extra produce. Make jams and chutneys. Those who are skilled at needlework or woodwork could make other things to sell. You need to assess your skills and make a plan,” Sorrel said.

  Sister Andrea nodded, once again thoughtful. “Yes. Yes. We must call a meeting.” She hurried off to join a cluster of women and started talking, hands flashing to punctuate her words.

  When Sorrel and Jake reached the office, the door was locked, but the distinct sound of rustling and frantic whispers reached them.

  Jake rapped sharply on the door. “Open up. Now.” Authority rang out along with his words.

  More frantic whispering.

  “Problem?” Luke asked from behind them.

  “Someone’s in there.” Jake took two steps back and kicked the door. Wood cracked but the door didn’t give. He kicked again and it flew open.

  Brother Felix stood in the office with Brothers John and Tyrone. When Jake and Luke prowled into the office they cowered against the walls.

  “The rest of the culprits,” Jake said.

  “Who are you?” Brother John demanded in a quivering voice.

  “You’re under arrest for cattle rustling and conspiring to kidnap.” Luke produced his ID.

>   “Me?” Brother Tyrone drew himself up. “I had nothing to do with the cattle rustling.” He pointed a trembling finger at Jake. “He was so proud of committing the crime he made us take photos.”

  “Why you snivel—”

  The three men took a collective step back.

  “Jake.” Luke grabbed him by the shoulder, hauling him to a stop. “You’re all under arrest. We can discuss the facts at the station.”

  They put up little fight as he ushered them from the office. A sea of shredded paper decorated the floor.

  Sorrel stared at the paper, her lips twisting at the irony. They were still trying to cover their tracks.

  “Can you see your mother’s books?”

  Alarm twisted her stomach tight. Her breath caught as her gaze went to the bookcase. Relief had her knees buckling, her breath exploding in whoosh of pure relief. The red-bound notebook sat squeezed between two larger tombs on herbs and flowers, a layer of dust attesting to the length of time the books had remained unread. She reached forward to extract the notebook, blew off the dust and opened it.

  Her mother’s scrawled writing and drawings filled the pages. Some of the older recipes she’d developed with results of her failed experiments.

  “Do you think Brother Rick murdered Brother Samuel?” Jake asked.

  “It’s a gut feeling. There’s no doubt Brother Samuel was getting older, but until he ate the mushrooms he was healthy. Sister Andrea swears she didn’t add mushrooms to her stew. Brother Rick had visited his father during dinner. They’d argued, and Brother Rick stormed out. I saw him.”

  “That doesn’t make him guilty of murder.”

  “No, that’s true. I—” She broke off abruptly. “Look at this. It’s a diary entry by my mother.” She read aloud. “I don’t have any proof, but I think Brother Rick has been giving Brother Samuel something in the glass of juice he brings his father every morning. Samuel has complained of dizziness. I’m going to try a few mouthfuls of Brother Samuel’s meals and the drinks he takes in his private quarters. If I start to become sick, I’ll have proof Brother Rick is up to no good. I can’t believe Sister Andrea is complicit in poisoning.” Sorrel lifted her head. “That’s not proof, but it’s enough to cast doubt.”