Deadly Deception (SCVC Taskforce)

by Evans, Misty

  Outside, thunder boomed in the distance.

  Like the previous day, the service seemed to go on and on. When it finally wrapped up, Adam was once again surrounded by people wanting to talk and shake his hand. While his face was pale and covered with fine beads of sweat indicating he didn’t feel well, he treated each one with friendliness and never turned anyone away.

  He would make a good politician.

  Or a clever criminal.

  Ronni studied him closely, trying to separate her feelings from the man. Sociopaths were rarely in trouble with the law. They sought out or created situations and living arrangements where their behavior would be condoned and even admired.

  Check.

  Sociopaths were adept liars, charming and intuitive. Their manipulation could be so subtle that their targets didn’t realize they were being victimized.

  Check.

  Sociopaths typically presented a conventional appearance to fit in with the world around them.

  Check.

  They were secretive, paranoid, and incapable of true human attachment.

  Adam might have had secrets, but so did she, and every other person in the room, and she wasn’t one to judge another’s paranoia. She had plenty of her own. Adam seemed to truly care about the men and women living there. He was forging a bond with her.

  The previous profile she’d worked up wasn’t accurate, but neither was the current one swimming through her mind.

  Lance stalked out of the chapel. Kristine followed. Through the open door, Ronni saw the dark clouds of the approaching storm. Wind whipped Kristine’s hair around her face. Paige watched them both go, then took Ronni’s hand. “Will you take me home?”

  One of the Wrightsville survivors, Gloria, whom Ronni had helped in the work barn that day, came to her rescue. “I’ll take you, Paige.”

  Adam finally broke away and headed for the main house. The rain had started, drenching them both. Ronni caught up to him. “What did the bank say about the loan?”

  “I can use the farm as collateral and get the tractor,” he replied without meeting her eyes.

  Then what was the problem? “That’s great news.”

  They entered through the back door, shaking rain off the tips of their fingers. He nodded. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

  Melanie returned around six. Kristine was MIA. In both women’s absence, Ronni made sandwiches—her normal “go-to” meal since she ate alone most days. As Melanie hustled around, clucking at the fact Ronni hadn’t made a “real” dinner, Ronni rolled her eyes and poured iced tea into glasses. “I think Kristine and Lance had an argument today.”

  “Married couples. You know how they can be.”

  Sadly, she didn’t. Her parents had never married. Never lived together. “Lance sounded pretty angry. Kristine was crying. You think she’s okay?”

  Melanie patted Ronni on the shoulder. “Everything will be fine. You’ll see.”

  Dinner was quiet and tense. The storm raged outside and Adam excused himself as soon as he was done. Melanie refused to let Ronni help her clean up.

  Ronni carried plates and glasses into the kitchen anyway. “What’s wrong with Adam?”

  “What?” Melanie waved her off. “Oh, don’t pay any attention to him. He gets like this sometimes. He has a lot on his shoulders. A lot on his mind.”

  Or maybe he forgot to take his lithium.

  While they washed and dried dishes, Melanie talked about the salon and the day she’d had. “And how was your day, dear?”

  “Revealing,” Ronni said.

  Melanie set down the plate she was drying. “In what way?”

  I had to open my big mouth. Time to make up shit and keep Melanie talking. “I really felt the Spirit move me today during bible study.”

  The woman edged closer. “Did you see something? A vision about our future?”

  “A what?”

  “Vision. God gives Adam visions, just like He did Daniel. I thought perhaps you, too, experienced them.”

  Ronni coughed, covering her shock. Danielle had told her of Daniel’s visions, but at nine years old, she hadn’t understood exactly what that meant. Now she did. “How often does Adam have these visions?”

  “They’re rare, but he’s experienced more lately. Some he shares with us. Some he doesn’t.” She looked down at her hands. “I fear he carries a heavy burden.”

  “About what?”

  Melanie’s face shut down. Her eyes deadened and the chipper tone in her voice evaporated. “I’m sure Adam will share with you when he believes you’re ready.”

  “He told me he has visions of me and the anointment ceremony.”

  “I believe that’s why he was so happy about your arrival.”

  Ronni could tell this line of questioning was going nowhere. Time to switch gears. “Does he ever visit the salon?”

  Melanie’s grim face lifted, and her tone snapped back to normal. “Heavens, no. Why would he go there?”

  To stash his guns? Ronni shrugged, hoping for nonchalance. “I just thought he might need a break from here once in a while. You did say he helped save the salon from bankruptcy, right? He must have an interest in the business.”

  For a single heartbeat, fear crossed Melanie’s delicate features. Fear and something else. Uncertainty? Then she did that flippant hand wave. “Haircuts and manicures are hardly important enough to take him away from his work here.”

  “The farm seems self-sufficient with so many people.”

  Melanie turned away, busied herself with cleaning the sink. “Adam has a good head for business, but his true work is spiritual. That’s why he needs Jacob and me. Jacob takes care of the website and the daily farm needs, and I take care of the house and business management.”

  If Melanie hadn’t been able to keep her hair salon from bankruptcy, she seemed a poor candidate to handle the farm’s finances. Yet, she seemed to do more work and handle more day-to-day stuff than anyone else.

  “Jacob doesn’t seem like the computer geek type. He’s…intense.”

  “He was an army intelligence officer before he came to us.”

  Army intelligence? Her file listed him as Army, but didn’t mention the intelligence angle. Was her intel inaccurate or had Jacob told Melanie a lie?

  If it were true, computer hacking, even into the FBI databases, might be a walk in the park for him.

  And he’d have the contacts to secure black market weapons.

  She and Thomas needed to confirm Jacob’s past, but how when they were stuck here?

  Melanie excused herself and Ronni retired to the den and tried to concentrate on a sitcom. When that didn’t work, she went to her room, taking a book of poetry from the library with her. The storm had passed, leaving the farm wet and muddy outside. Water dripped from the eaves, creating a melancholy sound that should have relaxed her.

  But her mind wouldn’t settle.

  Where was Thomas? She needed to talk to him.

  From her window, she saw Jacob enter the chapel. A few minutes later, he left again. She had the uncanny feeling he hadn’t gone in there to pray.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Thomas eased the motorcycle up the gravel drive. He’d borrowed it from the garage while everyone was at bible study and snuck off the farm. Once he was a sufficient distance away, he fired it up and drove to the first convenience store he found.

  There he’d called Cooper from a payphone and reported in on what he knew so far. It wasn’t much. He’d found no guns, save the rifle under Adam’s bed. No illegal prescriptions drugs, except the bottles on Adam’s bedside table—and those he couldn’t be sure weren’t legally prescribed. He’d found no other crimes being committed.

  The guy was a whack-job, no doubt about it, and the place was a glorified commune. But other than the weirdness and the possibility Adam had an informant inside the Bureau—which he couldn’t prove—he had nothing.

  “He knew we were coming,” he’d told his boss. “The operation could be comp
romised.”

  “What does Punto think?” Cooper had asked.

  She’s not thinking with her head. Only her heart. “We’re giving it another twenty-four hours or so. We’ll decide whether to pull the plug after that.”

  “Watch your back. And hers too.”

  “Copy that.”

  He’d hung up and headed back to the farm, getting sidelined by the storm. Waiting that out put him at the farm after dinner time. He would have been missed. Jacob, or Dr. Elgin, or Wreck-It Ralph were probably looking for him.

  So he waited until it got dark. Ronni had probably also noted his absence and was stroking out. He just hoped she hadn’t blown their covers.

  He was wet and muddy and frustrated. He’d known this mission would suck, but it had taken a turn he hadn’t expected. This was supposed to be a slam dunk, and here he was with nothing but a handful of crazy.

  And a partner who wanted to jump his bones.

  The crazy cult leader he could handle. If Adam laid a finger on Ronni, Thomas would break every bone in his body.

  The partner…he couldn’t resist her any longer.

  During the storm, he’d camped out under a couple of trees, his mind filled with thoughts about her luscious lips, her soft heart. His hands had tingled, remembering the feel of her heavy breasts. He couldn’t wait to get his hands and lips on her again. He wanted a real look at her the next time. Not a hurried coupling in the front seat of a car in the dark. He wanted a real taste of her too.

  As he slipped the bike back into the garage and headed for a shower, his mouth watered at the thought.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  On the second floor, Ronni knocked at Kristine’s door. When the woman answered, Ronni gave her a concerned look. “You seem to be having a bad day. Is there anything I can do?”

  Kristine’s hand snuck to her lower stomach. “Just feeling a little under the weather.”

  “Can I bring you a cup of tea or something?”

  Kristine’s gaze skittered down the hall to Adam’s bedroom door, came back but stayed glued to the floor. “Thank you. I’ll be fine.”

  She closed the door on Ronni. That got me nowhere.

  Ronni went back to her room. Her mind continued chasing dead ends. Where was Thomas? Was the op a disaster? Was her brother a sociopath or just a nice guy?

  She took a hot bath and dressed for her meeting with Thomas. Outside, the sun set, fading peach streaks of light intermixing with the growing shadows. She paced the room, ran a hand over the fireplace mantel, and wondered why there were fireplaces in every room in the house. That thought reminded her of the Harry Potter movies and the magical way they often traveled using fireplace flues. That led her back to Thomas and her frustration grew.

  She was on her third turn around the room when she heard the quiet squeak of a door from directly below her. Light footsteps followed.

  Kristine was on the move.

  Ronni cracked open her bedroom door, listening. On the second floor, the footsteps went down the hall to Adam’s room. A faint knock. A pause and a door opening, murmured words. The door closed.

  Was Kristine giving Adam the news about the baby? In his current state, Ronni wondered if that was wise.

  The mantel clock chimed softly. Ten o’clock. Melanie was a dead end. Kristine even less informative. And now Adam was busy. Ronni snuck downstairs, passing the second floor carefully, and went out the back door.

  The night was in full swing, insects chirping, owls and bats winging overhead. She made it into the yard when a male voice came from behind her. “Looking for someone?”

  Ronni spun around. Jacob stood in the shadows, feet planted, hands on hips. “You startled me.” Think fast. “Kristine’s under the weather. I was on my way to the men’s quarters to let Lance know.”

  “He’s aware of her condition.”

  Condition? Did Jacob know she was pregnant?

  “Right. Okay, then.” Should she go back inside or…? “I think I’ll just take a walk.”

  “The farm can be a dangerous place in the dark.”

  Threatening? “I’m going to the chapel to pray. No wild animals there.”

  She didn’t wait for him to reply, and took off at a fast stride.

  “I’ll accompany you,” he said, and fell into step with her.

  Great. Now she had a bodyguard. And not the good kind. “I’d rather be alone.”

  “Adam would be angry with me if I let anything happen to you.”

  Her skin crawled but she tried to appear pleased. Since she couldn’t shake him, she might as well use the opportunity to feel him out. “So you were in the Army.”

  “And you’re an FBI agent.”

  Touché. “Living on an organic farm must be quite a change from your military days.”

  “I find it peaceful.”

  Riiight. “Do any tours overseas?”

  “Several.”

  He certainly wasn’t one to volunteer information. “Did the Army teach you those mad computer skills Adam’s always raving about?”

  They’d reached the door of the chapel. Jacob held it open for her, switched on a light. “I’ll leave you to pray.”

  He closed the door behind him. Ronni peeked out the window and saw him disappear into the darkness. She had the distinct feeling that although she could no longer see him, he was still out there.

  Well, wasn’t this a pickle.

  She sat in a pew, went through the motions of praying. The twitch between her shoulder blades kicked up. She hated sitting on her hands and doing nothing, but undercover work involved a lot of patience.

  After a bit, she walked to the raised stage and stepped up on it. It was solid and sturdy under her feet, her shoes making dull thumps across the wood, unlike the house’s noisy oak floors.

  She stood behind the pulpit and looked out at the empty pews. What did it feel like to have so many people love and admire you? To have so many people hang on your every word?

  Intoxicating. A type of celebrity status, she guessed, being the most popular person in the room.

  All the times she’d sat and listened as a child to scriptures came back to her. Her mother and she, like Kristine and Paige, had often sat in the front pew while Daniel preached. Once again her mother’s ghost rose in her mind. Oh, mama. What would you think of the deception I’m pulling on Adam?

  She shook off the guilt. Her watch read eleven-thirty. Might as well find out if her guard dog was watching. Leaving the stage, she switched off the light and let herself out.

  She pretended to walk back toward the house, keeping her eyes and ears peeled for Jacob. She saw nothing and heard no sounds of people, so she turned on her heel and headed toward the orchard. Almost time for her meeting with Thomas, and hoped that whatever he’d been doing all afternoon, he’d make their rendezvous. She had a lot to tell him.

  And she was worried about him.

  Several times, she stopped and listened. Looked around. If Jacob was tailing her, he was damn good at being in the wind.

  Making her way to the orange tree Adam had stopped under the previous day, she slowed her steps, kept her senses on high alert. These clandestine meetings made her anxious, but they also fired up something she’d buried after her brush with death.

  She enjoyed going undercover. Enjoyed the hunt for criminals. Not behind a desk, but in the thick of things. Secret missions, false identities. Thinking on her feet.

  Thomas loved it too. She saw it in his eyes, the way he looked at her when they were in front of the others. He got a charge out it. A high.

  She wanted to share that high with him. Had tried to the previous night. Wanting him was no longer just about blocking the pain and the guilt, but about sharing the exhilaration of the case.

  Partners. It happened to the best of them sometimes. Getting caught up in the danger and intrigue did a number on their libidos. And afterwards?

  Most partnerships died a slow, painful death.

  “Hey.”

 
His voice startled out of her reverie. “Thomas!”

  It had only been a few hours, but it felt like days since she’d seen him. She threw her arms around his neck—completely unprofessional—and let the relief swamp her. He smelled clean and fresh like he’d just stepped out of a shower. Probably had. His hair was still damp. “Where have you been?”

  He held her close, kissed her deep. Then with a finger to her lips, he drew her away from the orchard.

  As they walked in silence, he threw looks over his shoulder. Was Jacob following them? The relief she’d felt evaporated. A tense dread took root in her heart.

  The honey house came into sight. The door opened with a soft squeak. Thomas closed and locked it behind them.

  He lit a beeswax candle, leaned back on the door, and said nothing. His damp hair was ruffled from her attack, his eyes lidded. The gray T-shirt he wore stretched across firm, appetizing muscles. Matching gray sweatpants hung low on his hips. “I take it you missed me.”

  Shit. It had only been one day, but she knew the look in his eyes. He wanted her. Bad.

  She should be mad at him. For disappearing without a word. Instead, she wanted to grab him and hang on tight. “Don’t ever disappear on me like that again.”

  He grinned, reached for a jar of honey on the shelf. Opened the lid and dipped one finger into the soft, creamy contents. Like a peace offering, he held it out to her lips.

  Dear God. She needed to tell him her idea about the guns and teargas being hidden at the salon. That Adam was in some kind of funk. “We need to be careful. Jacob was following me earlier.”

  “He’s not out there now. I made sure.”

  They were safe. And alone. Very, very alone.

  Suddenly nervous, she broke away from his stare. The man was irresistible, his very presence screwing with her logic and reason. Every move he made, every look he sent her way.

  Even though she wasn’t making eye contact, she could feel his energy vibrating along her nerve endings. The candle light. The smell of beeswax. The danger lurking right outside the door. It all added up to a heady cocktail leading her right to him.

  His finger was warm where it rubbed the honey on her lips. Her gaze rose to his. This moment was truly all you ever had. You couldn’t count on tomorrow. Hadn’t she learned that a long time ago?