Forbidden

by Leanna Ellis

  “It was that or lemonade.” Samuel tipped his head back and took long swallows.

  Roc shifted his gaze from the bottle to the young man, who seemed restless and frustrated like a caged animal. “Everything okay?”

  Samuel rolled the bottle between the heels of his hands. His mouth flattened and cheeks dented. “My pop and I don’t see things the same way sometimes.”

  Roc laughed, startling the young man. “That’s probably true of every father and his eighteen-year-old son.”

  “You and your dad get along?”

  Roc’s good humor died. “Not when I was eighteen, and not now.”

  “How come?” Samuel asked.

  Roc breathed deeply and released it. He questioned himself about what he should tell this young, impressionable teen, but he figured the truth was the best. “It’s complicated, but suffice it to say I didn’t like how he drank and pushed my momma around. And he didn’t like it when I punched him back.”

  Samuel’s eyes widened. “You—? Whoa.” He dipped his head, his straw hat shielding his face, then he looked back at Roc. “That sucks.”

  With an exhausted chuckle, he nodded. “Sure does. Make your problems with your own pop seem not so bad?”

  “Ah, you know, it is what it is. I don’t know why he keeps insisting I stay home at night. Especially tonight.”

  “Something special going on?”

  “Andi”—he shifted on the step—“she was expecting me tonight.”

  “You could explain to your dad—”

  Samuel gave a humorless laugh. “How would I explain Andi to Pop?”

  “Gotcha. Won’t she forgive you for one night?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  “I see.”

  Samuel gave a heavy sigh. “She could have any guy she wanted.”

  “But she wants you, right?”

  The younger man shrugged. “For now.”

  “Might not be the kind worth keeping then, if you know what I’m saying.” At Samuel’s shocked look, Roc recanted. “I’m just saying, but I don’t know. I’m not Oprah.”

  Samuel raised his eyebrows in question.

  Roc let it go. “I don’t know Andi. So…you love her, huh?”

  “Love?” Samuel tasted the word like it was an unfamiliar piece of fruit, something exotic and strange on the tongue. He stared down at his hands circling the bottle, his thumbs pressing against each other. “Hadn’t thought much about it.”

  Boys Samuel’s age, Roc figured, weren’t thinking. They were reacting, responding, igniting. Andi was like a fuse leading to an explosion. Or a drug addiction, and poor Samuel was suffering withdrawal tonight.

  Young love didn’t always involve the heart, often just other parts of the anatomy. Still, explaining that to an eighteen-year-old wasn’t his place and probably wouldn’t be well received anyway. So Roc remained silent and waited while Samuel wrestled with his thoughts and emotions.

  “Sure, I love her. But it’s complicated.”

  “Boy, I’ve heard that before.” Roc leaned back in thought, questioning himself. Did he ache for Rachel only because she was pretty and happened to be sleeping in his bed? Was it just his love-starved anatomy talking? Or was it something deeper, some yearning from the heart?

  Roc turned his gaze back to Samuel. “So is it the love-you-forever-let’s-get-married kind?”

  Samuel’s eyes contracted a fraction. “Maybe.”

  “And so…you ready to bring her home to meet Mom and Pop?”

  Samuel exhaled a harsh breath. “Yeah, right.”

  “Ah…that’s the complicated part.”

  “Well, part of it.” Samuel glanced over one shoulder and then the other and leaned toward Roc. “Also, I’m not sure I’m going to join the church.”

  Roc mouthed an “oh.” “Gotcha. Major complication.”

  He understood the boy’s reluctance. The Amish way of life wasn’t easy. In fact, in many ways it seemed they made things more difficult for themselves. And yet, sitting here on the porch in a swing, he could see the allure. It was a slower-paced life, simpler in many ways. Certainly simpler than chasing vampires.

  “Would that mean you’d get shunned?”

  “Nah. I haven’t joined the church yet, so I wouldn’t be shunned. But my folks would be disappointed for sure.” Samuel looked down then added hastily, “It’s not that I don’t believe in God.”

  Roc nodded his understanding. “There are many ways to practice that belief.”

  His face lit up. “Exactly.”

  “So I’m guessing Andi isn’t exactly wanting to become Amish.”

  “Can you see her in a bonnet?”

  “Not really. But then”—he stretched out his arms—“I never thought I’d see myself in this getup, either.”

  Samuel laughed with him.

  Then something alerted Roc. He cut Samuel off and set the bottle on the wooden plank at his feet.

  “What is—?”

  “Shh.” Roc eased off the swing, careful not to make a sound. He pulled out his gun, pointing it upward toward the stars until he had something better to aim at. Carefully, he edged across the porch and down the steps, past Samuel. He peered into the darkness to the right and then left. A wavering light still glowed from the workshop. But he heard nothing and saw nothing. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Or maybe he was being watched.

  He finally relaxed and shoved his Glock back into its hiding place beneath his coat. He didn’t return to the swing but simply sat on the top step beside Samuel.

  “So what’s the full story, Roc? Some guy is hunting Rachel. Is that it?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Somebody she met in New Orleans?”

  Roc stared at Samuel, surprised. “How’d you know that?”

  “I don’t know much, but I know that’s when a lot of our troubles started—when Jacob and Rachel went to New Orleans. And what you were telling me the other night about missing teens, dead folks, and animals? That’s what happened to Jacob, isn’t it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “My brother was killed, wasn’t he? I mean, Pop always said it was an accident in the workshop, but I don’t think I ever believed that. Something happened, something that tore my family apart. So that’s it, right? Jacob was killed by someone he met in New Orleans.”

  Roc weighed his options. Jonas Fisher didn’t want his youngest son to know the truth. So Roc stuck as close to the truth as he dared. “That’s pretty close…at least to what I know.”

  Samuel’s gaze flickered downward. “I wish Pop had just told us the truth. This not knowing, not understanding, not being able to talk about it…makes it worse.”

  Roc nodded. “Tomorrow, I hope it will all end. My friend, Roberto, is coming to help me trap the killer.”

  Samuel’s gaze met Roc’s squarely. “What can I do?”

  “First thing in the morning, go with your folks and get out of Dodge. That’s what your pop wants. And it’s what you should do.”

  Samuel’s pale brows furrowed into a frown. “Let me help.”

  “Your pop would shit a brick.”

  “Let him.” Samuel leaned toward Roc, pushed his root beer into Roc’s leg. “Let me help. I’m fully capable of making my own decisions.”

  Roc gauged the younger man for a minute. The Amish teens he’d met seemed more mature than English kids. Of course, they left school by fourteen and were ready to make lifelong decisions like marriage by the age of eighteen. Samuel might not agree with his father about religion, but he was a man with a mind of his own. If Jonas packed up his family and left, without letting Samuel have a say in his own destiny, he might lose another son. So Roc decided to give a little, if it would help. “All right then. You can pick up Rob
erto tomorrow morning. He’ll be at a bus stop in Kentucky, I’ll give you directions. Then bring him back here.”

  “Good. I’ll do it.”

  “Fine. Gut.” Roc pronounced the word the Amish way, which garnered a smile from Samuel. “I’m grateful for the help. But after that, I want you off this property while I deal with this problem. Understand?”

  Samuel’s mouth twisted, but he finally nodded. “Deal.”

  They shook hands on it, and Samuel’s grip held a firm resolve. Then he clapped Roc on the shoulder. Thankfully, not the injured one, because Samuel had quite a wallop. “So, now, tell me this. You and Rachel—”

  “There is no me and Rachel.” Roc gulped down the last of his root beer, wishing it was something stronger.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Come on, Samuel. Don’t be naïve now.”

  “I’m not. I know you two aren’t married. But I see how she looks at you…the way you look at her. And if that ain’t love—”

  “It isn’t.”

  Samuel nudged Roc’s arm with an elbow. “You don’t look bad in that getup.” He grinned. “You gonna become Amish for real? I could give you pointers.”

  Roc detected a teasing tone in Samuel’s question, yet it jarred him anyway. “That’s not a possibility.”

  “Probably right,” Samuel agreed, his tone turning serious. “You know what would happen if Rachel married you, don’t you?”

  Roc chugged the rest of his root beer. It didn’t matter, because it wasn’t happening.

  “She’s been baptized, so she does have to marry someone Amish. If she married you, she would be shunned.”

  Roc leaned back. “Then make that reason nine hundred and fifty-two why we won’t be getting married.”

  Chapter Sixty

  A dull pain awoke Rachel.

  She lay in bed a long while, assessing her lower back and breathing through the pain. After a minute or two, it eased. She probably shouldn’t have gone walking so far yesterday. The baby stirred, and her belly tightened, her back aching. Any hope of more sleep slipped through her fingers.

  Roc shifted in his sleep, and she listened to him breathing, the slow, rhythmic sound, deep and regular, gave her a sense of calm and peace. She hadn’t heard him come to bed last night. He’d been running on little sleep, and had been sporting dark circles under his eyes for the last few days, so she didn’t want to wake him.

  She rose and greeted the day as quietly as she could. Moving about the room, she was careful not to cause a cramp in her calf and wake Roc. In the gray darkness, she dressed and tiptoed from the room.

  ***

  By the time Sally came downstairs, Rachel already had biscuits rolled out and ready for the oven. Her palms had a dusting of flour, and she rinsed them in the sink.

  “Aren’t you the early bird?” Sally smiled. When Sally found humor or simply greeted another, her smiles brightened her face and lifted her features. But Rachel had also seen when Sally was quiet, her thoughts elsewhere, and her features sagged with the weight of worries and deep sorrow. Rachel’s hand touched the side of her belly. What mother would ever stop mourning the loss of a child?

  And her grief would be deepened if she came to know what Jacob had become. Or did she know? Sally had never mentioned or hinted at the possibility, and Rachel suspected Jonas had kept the truth from his wife. Just as Hannah had kept the truth from her. Both decisions were born of love, and yet was it best?

  Sally touched Rachel’s arm. “You feeling all right?”

  “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d get started for the day.”

  Rachel touched her back. The pains had continued through the early morning hours. They didn’t move across her belly, just focused in her lower back, which held a deep ache. But if she kept doing her chores or finding more to be done, she didn’t notice the pain as much. So she kept going.

  Roc suddenly came rushing down the stairs, looking as if he’d woken with a start and thrown on his brown pants and shirt. Part of his shirt was untucked, and he pulled on his coat hastily. Despite the slapdash appearance, his gaze was as intent as a hawk as he looked straight at Rachel. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine. Good.” She wasn’t about to burden him with her backache. It seemed insignificant. Roc had much more to think about than her little complaints. With the back of her wrist, she brushed away a lock of hair tickling her cheek. “And you?”

  “I’ve got to go check on some things,” he said as he headed for the back door.

  Rachel watched him walk away, and stretched her arms above her head, easing out the kinks in her back. The pain seemed to be going away, and seemed as insignificant now as the cramp the other night in her leg. She would see the day through. Just as she and Roc would push through until they had trapped Akiva. Until then, neither of them needed any distractions.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Roc had anticipated having to wake Samuel to go get Roberto, but the boy was already out of bed. Even though in many ways Samuel was a typical teenager, he was after all Amish and more accustomed to starting his chores in the gray light of this godless hour.

  Roc walked the perimeter of the property first then made his way to the barn where Samuel was doing his daily chores.

  “You remember what to do?” Roc asked, his voice low.

  “Easy as pie.”

  “How would you know if pies are easy?”

  “They’re easy to eat.” Samuel’s grin widened, creasing his cheeks and the corners of his eyes. “You think picking up your friend is gonna be hard?”

  “No. ’Course not.” Roc was simply out of sorts. He was about a week shy of enough sleep, and he shouldn’t have slept last night. He’d woken to some noise and found the bed empty, so not knowing where Rachel was he’d panicked. Even though he knew she was fine now, his nerves were still on edge.

  He drew a steadying breath. “Shouldn’t be difficult. Just pick up Roberto and bring him here.”

  “All right.” Samuel dusted off his hands on the back of his pants and hooked his suspenders over his shoulders. “I’ll finish feeding and head off.”

  “Good. Good.” Roc stood there a moment, not knowing what to do or where to go. Then he turned back toward the barn’s entrance but stopped. Facing Samuel again, he reached for the bucket. “Actually, don’t worry about the feeding, I’ll finish up. You go on.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  “Just go.”

  Samuel slapped his straw hat on his head. “You take care, Roc.”

  “You too, Samuel.”

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Samuel cranked his motorcycle and took off as the sun began its full assault, orange lines marching across the horizon. Wind rushed through his hair, pummeling his face, and he leaned into it. It gave him a sense of freedom he’d never had before he bought the motorcycle.

  His eyes ached this morning, and the sun’s rays made it worse. He hadn’t slept well last night, tossing and turning, as he thought of Andi and what she might be doing. Imagined scenarios made his stomach churn—Andi out meeting other guys, guys hungering for her. He suddenly wished he had a cell phone like some of his friends had so he could call her, let her know why he hadn’t arrived last night.

  Then an idea came to him. Roc had sent him off early. He still had plenty of time left to get across the Ohio border and cross into Kentucky to pick up Roc’s friend.

  Smiling to himself, Samuel slowed down and took the next turn. Then he drove as straight and fast as his motorcycle would take him.

  ***

  When he arrived, the parking lot of the apartment complex was quiet. A man carried a cup of coffee toward a car and climbed inside, flicking on his headlights. Samuel drove through the sleepy lot, finally parking next to Andi’s red Echo. Her car needed cleaning, and he promised h
imself he’d take care of it for her this week. Or he hoped she would let him.

  The lump in his stomach grew larger and heavier as he walked up the steps to her apartment. What would he do if someone else was with her? If she hadn’t been alone and lonely all night like he had? Samuel gnawed on the inside of his lip, glancing back at her car. Then with fierce determination, he fisted his hand and knocked against the door, hard enough to crack a knuckle.

  He waited…listening, trying to hear inside the apartment. But he couldn’t make out any sounds. All seemed quiet. Too quiet.

  Of course, she was probably sleeping. Most days, Andi didn’t have to be at work until 9:30. She thought he was nuts because he got up at four each morning to do chores for his dad. But what if she wasn’t home? What if she’d gone out with someone? And what if she’d gone home with that someone?

  The hard lump dropped sharply then bounced up to his throat. Where was she?

  He pounded the door again, taking out his frustration and anger on the wood. This time, he heard something…a voice maybe…then the sound of an inside door opening. Finally, the chain rattled, and the knob turned.

  The lump in his throat dissolved at the sight of Andi. Her auburn hair was in wild disarray, the curls spilling around her shoulders. She had raccoon eyes, her mascara smeared and smudged in all directions as it sometimes was after they went to bed eager and greedy. His gaze slipped lower to her fancy nightgown, which revealed more than it hid and highlighted areas that made his blood run hot. Then cold.

  The lump in his throat congealed again into something hard and unyielding as it cut off his breath. Had she worn that red, lacy thing for someone else? Words lodged in his throat. Questions rose but couldn’t escape. He froze, unable to step inside or walk away.

  She blinked at him, her forehead puckering between her brows. “What is it, Sam?” Her voice had the gravelly, sleepy tone he loved. And maybe a hint of annoyance too. “Your watch not working?”

  Definite annoyance. “Huh?”

  “You were supposed to come by last night. You forget? Or did you get p.m. and a.m. mixed up?”