Devoted to Love

by Shayla Black

  Maybe, but wasn’t that better than the two of them banging at the ranch?

  Josiah swallowed down fury, turned up the radio, and tapped his thumb on the wheel. None of that distracted him. His thoughts whirled. Agitation prevailed. He changed the radio station.

  “This girl really has your balls in a twist.” Zyron slanted him a pitying stare.

  How could he refute that? “Don’t I fucking know it.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  The smart thing to do would be to stand his ground, stop giving a shit what Maggie did. He especially needed to quit worrying what she might be doing with another man. He didn’t need the distraction while he worked. He didn’t need his bosses pissed off. He didn’t need to get tangled up with another female who ultimately wouldn’t commit. Hell, he didn’t even want her to commit.

  Then why was the fact that she probably never would crawling up his ass?

  “No fucking clue.”

  “Do you want Trees and me to take over? You go back to Lafayette and—”

  “I can’t do that. Remember, Mercy is expecting me tomorrow night. If I don’t show up, we’ll never find out what’s going on out there.”

  “Fair enough. Want my advice?”

  Not really, but maybe Zy would have better ideas about how to get himself focused on the right things. After all, he’d completed a string of really successful assignments without Tessa Gilbert screwing up his thoughts. “Shoot.”

  “Roll with it. You fighting what’s happening between you two is only wasting energy. I knew in five seconds that you and Maggie had something going on. She might have flirted with Trees for some girl reason that only a human being with a vagina can possibly understand or explain. But she’s into you, man. That much I know.”

  Josiah didn’t want to be relieved at his pal’s words. “Maybe. With Maggie, it’s hard to know. She’s complicated.”

  Zyron laughed. “That’s the attraction, isn’t it?”

  He sighed. “Why am I so stupid?”

  That only made Zy laugh harder. “Look at it this way. What are your alternatives?”

  Good question. Trying to quit Maggie was proving pretty fucking impossible. And no matter how logical it might be, the idea of never having her again was unacceptable.

  “Shut up and find a decent song on the radio,” he grumbled.

  Zy finally stumbled on a classic rock station. AC/DC was a shitload better than oldie moldies from the fifties and sixties. He tried to concentrate on the music and his fellow operative’s words as they did a quick pass along the Enlightenment Fields property line. Josiah was surprised by how quiet and still the place was.

  “I did some research on Adam Coleman. He’s a weird bastard,” Zyron murmured, casing the compound from the cab.

  “I’m not surprised. Tell me.”

  “Coleman is originally from Santa Barbara. Wealthy family. A loner in high school, but really smart. Finished top five percent of his class. Went to Stanford, but dropped out. There were whispers about him being shuffled off to a mental hospital for a few months. The family passed it off as rehab, but his past social media posts were . . . interesting. Rants about world overpopulation, coming food shortages and droughts, calls for a purge of ‘undesirables.’ Crazy shit. Then he disappeared for a few years. Visa records indicated he went to India and made the rounds with a bunch of shamans and gurus. All his posts online were about his ‘enlightenment.’ Sadly, he started finding people who believed him.”

  “Like Mercy?”

  “Yep. In her defense, she was born to dirt-poor farmers who beat the shit out of her, so it’s no surprise she went looking for a ‘savior.’”

  And she had settled for Coleman? “What then?”

  “Then . . . I’m not too sure. He moved out here, suspended all his personal online accounts, instead setting up a website and social media for Enlightenment Fields. Nothing in their come-on makes them sound too unhinged, but if you read between the lines, you still hear ‘the sky is falling.’ Apparently, it’s this crazy cult’s duty to act now. Oh, it sounds all organic crops, water purification, and seed preservation, but they’re thinking more drastic.”

  “Son of a bitch.” Josiah needed to process all of this, read up more, figure out how to use the knowledge to his advantage tomorrow when he faced them again.

  “Be careful. I don’t know what their homemade hallucinogens have to do with the collapse of the food chain but . . .”

  “Nothing good. I’ll watch my six.”

  They fell silent, and instead of focusing on Enlightenment Fields and ways to glean information while returning unscathed, Maggie crowded in instead. How fucking much longer until he saw her?

  Twenty interminable minutes passed before they arrived at the ranch. Josiah barely took the time to glimpse her car in the driveway before he put the SUV in park and leapt out, darting for the house. If Trees was anywhere near her . . . If they were kissing or touching or fucking . . .

  Suppressing a growl, he tore the front door open and clenched his fists as he prowled from one room to the other. Kitchen, office, upstairs bedrooms—all empty. What the hell?

  “Maggie?” he called out.

  Silence.

  He darted through the house again, anxiety turning to fear. Shit. Never mind her having sex with Trees. What if she wasn’t answering because something sinister had happened? What if Enlightenment Fields had paid them a visit in the past few hours? Trees would have done his best to protect her. He would have seen it as his mission and his purpose. But what if he ultimately hadn’t been able to stop them? What if they’d taken Maggie and—

  “Josiah?” she murmured from the back door. “Were you calling for me?”

  He didn’t stop and he didn’t think. He raced across the room, long strides eating up the space between them, grabbed Maggie, and pulled her against him.

  “What—”

  He didn’t let her finish her question. Instead, he covered her lips with his own and plunged deep, taking her mouth as if he could inhale and own her all in one breath. God, she tasted alive. Perfect. Like his woman. He cupped her nape, tangled his fingers in her hair, ate at her mouth, and breathed her in all at once.

  After three fucking hours, how could he have missed her this much? And what the hell was he going to do about it?

  CHAPTER 10

  Well, now I know why you’ve been so preoccupied,” Trees drawled from behind her.

  Maggie jerked out of Josiah’s embrace guiltily and turned to Trees with an apology on her face. He’d been nothing but nice to her. Dutifully, he had taken her to retrieve her car. He’d thanked her profusely when she made him lunch. Trees wasn’t much of a talker, and she hadn’t felt like chattering. Of course, he’d stared, and she felt self-conscious wearing this silly next-to-nothing getup she’d tossed on to rile Josiah. But Trees hadn’t touched her or made a pass. In fact, when she’d wandered outside after lunch to sit on the porch swing, he’d followed her with a blanket, wrapped her up to protect her from the chilly wind, and rocked with her in blessed silence. And when she’d sidled up to him for warmth, he’d done nothing but brought her closer to his body heat and given her a soft smile.

  Flirting with him hadn’t been at all interesting without Josiah giving her the jealous side-eye. And that wasn’t fair to Trees.

  “Thank you for keeping me company on the porch swing,” she said softly, then turned to the others. “Did y’all eat any lunch? I have leftovers . . .”

  Before Josiah and Zyron could answer, the home phone rang. Hardly anyone called it except stupid telemarketers anymore, and she would have ignored it, but the number display said the sheriff’s station was calling.

  Frowning, she grabbed the old olive green receiver, circa 1977, from the wall and lifted it to her ear. “Hello?”

  “Oh, thank god you picked up.” Dixie s
ounded out of breath. “I’ve been calling and texting your cell phone for almost an hour.”

  Alarm began brewing in her belly. “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “You haven’t heard? Someone ran Mrs. McIntyre down in the street earlier this morning.”

  Maggie blinked and gripped the phone. She couldn’t have heard that properly. “What do you mean, ran her down?”

  “You know . . . Mags, they ran her over with their car. I was working when the dispatch call came in. Mr. Klein was coming home from Lowe’s market when he saw a woman lying in the street. He called . . . but when Neil and the crew got out there with the ambulance, it was too late.”

  “She’s . . .” Maggie’s heart stopped. “Dead?”

  “Yeah. They found that little schnauzer of hers circling her body. Harvey was wandering around with his leash flapping and no one to walk him home.”

  “You’re saying it was a hit-and-run?”

  “Yeah. The driver didn’t stay at the scene or call for help. From what we can tell, they didn’t even try to stop the car. It’s like . . . they wanted her dead.”

  Dixie’s words went into Maggie’s ears but shock kept them from penetrating her brain. There hadn’t been a single violent incident in the community for years, and now they’d had two murders in four days? Granna would be crushed. She and Mildred McIntyre had grown up together.

  “Oh, my goodness . . . Any suspects?”

  “None. And so far, no witnesses have come forward, either. Mrs. McIntyre wasn’t far from home when the incident occurred, and you know she lived out in the boonies.”

  Maggie swallowed hard. “Thanks for letting me know. If you hear anything else . . .”

  “I’ll holler.”

  She murmured something else to Dixie—Maggie really didn’t recall what—then hung up.

  “Baby?” Josiah was right behind her, hands braced on her shoulders as if he intended to prop her up.

  Closing her eyes, she welcomed his comforting touch. “Someone ran over my first-grade teacher with their car this morning while she was walking her dog. They plowed her down on purpose . . . and left her for dead.”

  Josiah’s grip tightened. She opened her eyes to see him exchange worried glances with both Zyron and Trees. “Did she have any enemies?”

  “How can anyone hate a woman who dedicated her life to teaching small children to read and gave her spare time to making care packages for soldiers? She sews the costumes for the holiday parade every year. She plants little flags in everyone’s front yards for the Fourth of July. She’s . . . a saint. I can’t believe she’s gone.”

  The news hit Maggie hard. A gentle soul suddenly and senselessly taken. It made no sense. None of this did. Was there a killer on the loose in Comfort? If someone wanted kind Mr. Haney and sweet-as-pie Mrs. McIntyre dead, who was next?

  “And what do I tell my grandparents?” She blinked at him. No, Josiah didn’t have the answers, but she felt so stunned and lost, and he was right beside her, looking so solid.

  “Would your grandmother come home if she got the news?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then you can’t tell her,” he said grimly. “Or will someone call them anyway?”

  “Granna and Papa don’t like cell phones. And no one but me knows how to reach the folks out at Shealyn’s place. They aren’t Internet savvy, either. They won’t go online to read the local rag.” She bit her lip. “But they’ll be awfully put out with me that I didn’t tell them.”

  “Better mad than dead.”

  “Amen,” Zyron tossed in.

  Trees simply nodded.

  Logically, Maggie knew they were right. Emotionally, not telling the people who had protected her since she was two rattled her even more. She felt shaken and afraid.

  “I always thought of Comfort as . . . well, a comforting, safe place.”

  Josiah brought her closer. “Times change. So do circumstances.”

  She pulled from his embrace. “But why would anyone intentionally take the life of an old woman who’s harmed no one? None of the locals would have done that. If we had any strangers in town except y’all, the townsfolk would be all a-chatter about them. That only leaves . . . Would Enlightenment Fields really kill Mrs. McIntyre? She didn’t own her land, just rented the house.”

  “That’s what I intend to find out tomorrow night.”

  * * *

  • • •

  Tuesday’s sunset approached, and a terrible déjà vu curled through Josiah’s veins as he pulled his truck to a stop behind the greenhouse at Enlightenment Fields once more. He spotted a small bus unloading people carrying suitcases and staring at the compound as if they’d found home. The new converts?

  With honey-brown hair glinting in the waning sunlight, Mercy strolled in his direction, wearing a smile he’d almost call smug. “Hi there.”

  Josiah stepped out of his truck, assaulted by the grating cheer of one of Mercy’s homemade hymns. His Sig in its shoulder holster under his baggy hoodie made him feel loads better. “Hi, Mercy.”

  Her smile widened. “I’m glad you came.”

  Said the spider to the fly.

  He didn’t want to be here. This place and these people gave him the creeps. He especially didn’t want to be near this woman. If he didn’t care so fucking much about Maggie, he’d be back at the ranch, trying to seduce her again. But it said a lot about his feelings that he’d rather keep her safe than get off.

  She’d asked him not to come tonight. Actually, almost begged. Well, as close to pleading as Maggie got. She’d been upset since she’d gotten the call about Mrs. McIntyre’s death. Fuck, he hated to leave her scared and hurting. Or alone. Yesterday evening, he’d remained close to her, intent on protecting her, reassuring her. He’d remained glued to her side while she watched a silly comedy on TV. Or tried to. But all her fidgeting told him she wasn’t focused on the film.

  Before too long, he found himself reaching for her hand. Soon, that hadn’t felt close enough, so he’d pulled her onto his lap. But another ten minutes into the movie, and the lure of her lush backside against him had revved him past his control. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from fisting her hair and guiding her lips to his. Maggie had welcomed him instantly with open arms and panting breaths.

  Quickly, one kiss quickly morphed into many. When he had to fight the urge to undress her on the sofa, he’d stood, urged her legs around him, then trekked up the stairs with their mouths plastered together and their passion running hot. As they’d passed by the kitchen, he’d blown off Zy’s silent disapproval and Trees’s glower. Yes, he was stupid. But despite telling himself to take a giant step back from Maggie, Josiah found himself kicking the bedroom door closed, tumbling her onto her back, and tunneling as far inside her as he could.

  What the hell was it about that woman?

  “You said to stop by tonight if I wanted to know more about your mission and your teachings.” He shrugged. “Here I am.”

  “Since Mr. Haney is gone, I’m surprised you’re even still in town. But glad,” Mercy added quickly. “Why don’t you come with me? I’ll fill you in and you can witness people finding their enlightened truth as they join the Chosen.”

  Josiah would rather have hanged himself with barbed wire, but he managed a smile. “Sure.”

  “Then we’ll have dinner and talk as a group. You can see who we are for yourself and . . . we’ll go from there.”

  As he followed Mercy, he saw a string of people headed toward a barn that had been converted into a makeshift church. They’d whitewashed the building and improvised a steeple. Along the side, they’d painted a symbol he remembered seeing the last time he’d visited. It was a circle with four lines outstretched at top, bottom, and each side. Smaller dashes sprung up from the round center in between the arms. A wholesome, farm-style font had been used to paint a sunny EF r
ight in the middle.

  “Your logo?” Josiah nodded at the artwork. “What does it mean?”

  “It revolves around the sun, like we do. We need it to grow all our crops. The line up top points to the sky from which we get the air and rain necessary to flourish. The one below indicates the ground and the rich soil we require to feed our family and our future. The lines left and right indicate our head and heart, since the Chosen must fully devote both in order to make Enlightenment Fields flourish.” She shrugged. “That’s it. The people in Comfort make us out to be odd or even sinister because we’re outsiders. They’re very traditional, and the notion of community farming doesn’t sit well with them. But we’re doing nothing more than growing crops and working toward a collective future brighter for all mankind.”

  Maybe that was true—in her head. Josiah wasn’t buying it.

  There were dozens of ways he could play this, but Mercy wasn’t stupid. If he acted as if he were, she would be suspicious.

  “That all sounds great, and I agree mankind should always look for ways to improve the yield from the soil while still preserving its nutrients. But I saw a few things last time I was here that concerned me.”

  “The nectar of Rapture? That’s what we call the recipe we were brewing in the kitchen. It started when our sire, Adam, began having trouble sleeping. I tried a few homemade ways to help him rest peacefully at night.” Her smile turned self-deprecating. “That’s not what I ended up making. In testing various blends, we discovered that some gave us unexpected effects. Several people reported deep meditative states or altered consciousness, almost like a Native American vision quest. They all swore they’d had a spiritual rapture that had opened their minds and hearts and allowed them to see deeper inside their mission with us. They asked for more.” She shrugged. “I consulted the half-dozen doctors who have come to live with us, made sure we wouldn’t be hurting or addicting anyone with long-term use. They all said the concoction was strictly herbal and perfectly safe.”