Obsession

by Buchbinder, Sharon

  “So much to do.” She sighed and her large breasts rose and fell beneath the thin cotton T-shirt, calling to him to caress them, stroke them, make her nipples hard beneath his fingertips.

  He inched forward, and ran his finger down the list, his forearm grazing hers. He could almost feel the crackle of electricity between them. “We’re really close, I swear. Look at all the things I’ve checked off on the list.”

  She nodded, then turned without warning and handed the clipboard back to him. “You’re the expert. I have to trust you to do the right thing.”

  Angie stepped out of his reach, and circled the mound of equipment. “How will you get all this stuff loaded up? Do you have trailers? ”

  He held the clipboard over his groin and his growing problem. Tongue thick, brain muzzy, he could only nod and beg with his eyes.

  Please, please, please come to bed with me.

  “Are all the ATVs good to go?”

  He found his voice at last. “Batteries and tires are all good. Extra fuel was loaded on the trailers. Everything was checked by me. I hate surprises.”

  She stretched her arms upward, and her shirt rose—exposing a tempting belly button. An inny. He loved innies. He could nuzzle and play with chocolate sauce and whipped cream in the saucer of her belly for hours. He wondered if her skin felt like silk or satin? Did she wear a lace bra and panties? Or was she more practical? Cotton or some other natural fiber, perhaps? Or did she eschew underwear altogether and go commando? He had a sudden burning desire to know all those things and many more, like what her kisses tasted like and what her soft inner thighs felt like under his fingertips. He took two steps closer. Okay, he’d go to her, he could do that.

  Just as he was within reach of her, a garage door opened, and Hummer headlights blinded him. The driver honked the horn, and Alejandro jumped out of the way. Hip hop music rocked the car, then ceased as the vehicle shut down and extinguished the lights. He waved at the driver and turned back to speak to Angie—but she was gone.

  Chapter Twelve

  Zeke Edmonds sat on his throne and looked down at the concerned faces of his congregants. Armed followers ringed the sides of the room and stood guard at the exits. The crowd grew anxious.

  Showtime.

  He stood and raised his hands on high. “I call upon you to bow in prayer.”

  A thousand people knelt and touched their foreheads to the stone floor.

  “We are so blessed to be here in this lovely land, in our fortress high above the rivers, canyons, and those who will not survive End Days.”

  He stared at his second in command’s back, wishing his eyes were laser beams that could pierce the man’s skin and make him shriek in pain.

  “While I was falsely imprisoned, Brother Aaron led our flock here and established our very own modern village, with running water, solar panels, windmills, electricity, and food. During my absence, Brother Aaron made alliances with the police and politicians. Thanks to Brother Aaron, we are ready, oh Lord, ready for End Days.”

  He scanned the whitewashed cavern, looking for telltale hand signals, note passing, or whispers.

  “But, the Lord has shared visions that tear at my heart. I bring bad news.”

  Murmurs followed his declaration.

  “Arise, so I can look you in the eyes.”

  Waves of whispers rolled across the group and echoed on the hard walls.

  Yes, be afraid, be very afraid.

  Worry creased each face.

  He choked back a sob. “I don’t know where to begin.” He paused, took a deep, shuddering breath. “My heart is so heavy.” He raised his hands up to the ceiling. “Lord, I beseech Thee, take this cup away from me. Don’t forsake me.” Zeke fell to the floor. Back arched, he flailed his arms and legs.

  Miriam shouted over the growing rumble of voices, “Father is having another celestial vision. Do not disturb him.”

  With concern almost palpable, the crowd fell silent and waited.

  No longer thrashing about, Zeke lay on his side and peeked between his lashes. Brother Aaron stood right in the front row, his brow furrowed. Was the engineer worried for Father—or was he afraid of being exposed?

  “Lord, no,” Zeke moaned.

  Miriam knelt beside him, the baby on her hip. “What is it Father?” She shouted. Then she whispered, “Speak up. They can’t hear you in the cheap seats.”

  “The cut is too deep, the pain too much,” he shouted. He threw in a conglomerate of Hebrew, Latin, and Greek to ratchet up the tension.

  The level of whispers rose again. Speaking in tongues was always a crowd pleaser. He had them right where he wanted them.

  “No more pain, Lord, no more pain.” Zeke shuddered, went rigid, then completely still—his eyes wide open.

  Miriam wailed, “No, Father, don’t leave us. We need you here, now.” She placed the baby’s hands on his face. “Oh, Chosen One, use your powers. Save your grandfather.” Jake shrieked and smacked Father in the nose.

  Real tears sprang to Zeke’s eyes. Shit. That hurt. He took a deep breath, fluttered his lashes and asked, “Miriam, is that you?”

  “Yes, Father.” She stood and lifted the baby over her head. “The Chosen One saved him!”

  The crowd roared its approval and chanted, “Father, Father, Father!”

  Zeke dragged himself up to his knees, crawled over to the throne, and pulled himself up to the seat. “I’ve had a vision.”

  Every woman and man in the crowd wept openly—except Brother Aaron. Eyes flat, his face a mask, the man looked like a statue.

  Zeke placed his right hand over his heart. “I’ve been betrayed.”

  “Who, who, who?”

  He shook his head. “It pains me, because it is so unfair. I asked the Lord to take me, rescue our lamb from Satan. I have to punish the traitor so others will remember right from wrong.”

  Miriam shrilled, “Who amongst you has betrayed Father?”

  Jake cried and shrieked, adding his outrage.

  “Come forward now,” Zeke coaxed in a soft voice. “You who have betrayed me. Repent and all will be forgiven.”

  Miriam raised the Disciplinarian with her free hand. “Let physical pain be your friend. Come forward and take your punishment.”

  Brother Aaron glanced around the room and took two steps forward. “Father, let’s talk. In private.”

  “So you admit you betrayed me?”

  “I’m your strongest supporter. We need to talk about your horrifying visions—”

  Induced by the peyote you fed me. “Guards,” Zeke shouted. “Seize him.”

  People melted away from the sinner.

  “I’ve done nothing wrong, I’ve—”

  “Gag him. I’m tired of listening to his lies.”

  A guard stuffed a rag into Brother Aaron’s mouth and another bound his hands.

  “Take him to the chamber of solitude where he will fast and reflect on his sins.”

  The guards fell into a phalanx around the big man and marched him out of the chamber.

  “Who else is involved? If you don’t tell me, I will find out. The Lord speaks to me directly.” One by one, he stared deep into his congregants’ eyes. They dared not speak. Fear of being next kept them in check.

  “Father, let’s go back to our chambers.” His wife took his hand in hers. “You need to rest.”

  He nodded. “I’d be lost without you.”

  Miriam’s eyes welled with tears. “Thank you, Father.”

  Zeke allowed her to lead him down the steps. The silent crowd parted to let the couple and the baby pass. Just as they were about to exit the chamber, shouts erupted.

  Zeke stopped, turned, and stared at the little man standing in the entryway on the other side of the room. His bowl hair cut, bright orange shirt, white loincloth, and huaraches sandals left no doubt as to his origins. Instead of the usual shy, smiling expression of the Tarahumara, this man’s brown eyes blazed and his face twisted with anger. He stared straight at Zeke.


  “Dónde está mi hija? Dónde está mi Mina? Where is my daughter? Where is my Mina?”

  ****

  Miriam struggled to suppress outward signs of her rage. She had to put on a concerned face. Play dumb. She had a better command of Spanish than she liked to let on. First and foremost, her duty was to protect the Chosen One and her husband from this savage.

  “Father,” she said in a low voice, “I think it would be best if you took the baby and a few of the men and returned to our chambers.”

  Zeke tore his gaze away from the furious little man. He lifted Jake out of Miriam’s arms and signaled to a cluster of unarmed, but burly men. “Come with me please.” The four men closed ranks around their leader and the child and hustled them out the rear exit.

  Now that her husband and the baby were safe, she could focus.

  “Sister Anne,” she called. “Could you assist me, please?”

  The sea of congregants stepped aside to allow the mousy woman to scurry to Miriam’s side. All eyes were upon her now, not Zeke. She was in charge, the star of this particular show.

  Miriam dragged Sister Anne over to the short brown man. “Offer him some food and water.”

  Sister Anne translated as fast as she could.

  The man’s shook his head so hard, his hair twirled in a dark nimbus.

  “Ask him who he is and what he wants.”

  “He says his name is Juan, and he wants his daughter, Mina.”

  This guy was a one note Johnny. Whiny, too. Just like his bitch daughter.

  “Tell him we sent the money to the nun. Sister Teresa has all the money for the girls.” A bold faced lie. Why not put the blame on the nun’s shoulders? Let him go back to her and demand the dinero. They can squabble over the pittance she handed over that day to purchase the adolescents.

  He stomped his sandaled foot when Sister Anne conveyed the message.

  “He says it’s not about the money,” the other woman whispered. “He was told he’d get to see his daughter every month. It’s been three months.”

  Miriam cocked her head and gave the man a puzzled look. “Tell him we never agreed to let the girls go home for visits.”

  Sister Anne shot her a sharp look. They locked gazes for several long moments. At last, Sister Anne looked away and translated.

  Mina’s father shook his fist at Miriam. Two male congregants stepped to her side. She waved them away. “It’s a simple misunderstanding. Tell him we told Sister Teresa the parents could come here to visit the girls. The nun turned things around.”

  A puzzled look crossed Sister Anne’s face. Miriam stared at her until the woman did as she was told.

  “He wants to see Mina. Now. His wife died. His daughter is all he has.”

  Miriam nodded and put on a sad face. “Oh, how tragic. Of course he misses her.” She turned and faced the sea of worried faces. “He’s going to see his daughter now. Everything is fine.”

  An audible sigh of relief filled the large chamber. The crowd at last left Miriam alone with the visitor and her underling.

  She felt as if her cheeks would break from her phony smile. “Sister Anne, could you please lead the way.”

  “Yes, yes.” The other woman scurried ahead and the little man followed her.

  Miriam waited a moment, and then grabbed the Disciplinarian off its hook. She tapped the wooden paddle on her palm and contemplated the situation at hand.

  Brother Aaron had paid politicians and police to look the other way. But he hadn’t thought to bribe the Tarahumara. Letting the man go could endanger Edmondsville and Father’s plans. Despite their peace loving reputation, Mina’s father had a temper. If he went back, complained to the ejiditarios, found sympathy—well who knew?

  She caught up to the native and her mousy underling in the dimly lit corridor. “Sister Anne, could you run ahead and let Brother John know we’re coming to the Crèche? They might need to tidy up a bit.”

  The other woman broke into a trot, leaving Miriam alone with Mina’s father.

  “Juan, we need to talk.”

  He turned and stared at her, his brow furrowed.

  “Yes, I speak Spanish. And I think you understand some English, so we both hid a little something from each other, didn’t we?”

  Juan gave her a sly smile. “Si.”

  The Disciplinarian felt solid and right in her hand as she tapped her thigh. She continued in his language.

  “Your daughter is very important to us.”

  His eyes lit up, and his chest puffed. Pride oozed out of every pore.

  “Mina will make a wonderful mother.”

  His head began to nod. Then the proud papa stopped and gave her a puzzled look.

  “She’s been given the gift of a lifetime. As one of the Mothers of the Twenty-Four, she will ensure the right people will serve the Chosen One when he comes of age.”

  “No comprendo.”

  “End Days are coming, my little brown friend. Soon the Apocalypse will be upon us. The seas will churn blood, the earth will split, and nuclear fires will roar through all the cities.”

  “Evangelista.” He shook his head, turned his back to her, and began to walk in the direction where Sister Anne had gone.

  “Don’t dismiss me, you ignorant savage.” She grabbed his shoulder and swung him around to face her. “I’m giving you time to repent, to save yourself and your daughter. Leave us now, go back to your village. Allow your daughter to fulfill her sacred destiny.”

  He stared up at her and spat in her face.

  Fury boiled in her chest, and her vision tunneled to see only the man’s back as he headed toward the Crèche.

  “Don’t you dare walk away from me when I’m speaking to you.”

  He flipped her the bird over his shoulder and kept walking.

  She ran after him, yanked at his thick black hair, and threw him down to the stone floor. Foot on his chest, she pinned the struggling heathen to the ground, gripped the handle of the Disciplinarian, raised it on high, and brought it down.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Angie arose before dawn and pulled on thermal underwear, two pairs of thermal socks, a one piece insulated suit, work boots, and heavy gloves. Rivulets of sweat ran down her back, and her thermal underwear was giving her a wedgie. Ugh. She tried to adjust her clothing, then gave up. Even though the weather forecast had been for a sunny, dry, and pleasant twenty-degrees Celsius or sixty-eight degrees Fahrenheit, she knew once she started driving the ATV, the wind would cool her down. Right now, time was of the essence. She had to get out of the compound.

  Most of the household would be asleep at this hour, and the sentries would be taking a coffee break in the guardhouse soon. Much like the ancient kings, isolation and lack of bold enemies had lulled the cartel watchdogs into predictable routines and complacency. Ninety days, three months of observations, note taking and clock-watching was about to pay off. Ever since she’d arrived in early December, her repeated requests to rescue Jake now had been put off by Isabel and Alejandro. She’d suppressed her shrieking maternal instincts, gone along with the program, and waited.

  Rather than curl up in a ball in her room, she’d trained every single day, never missing a five mile run, a shooting session, or an opportunity to practice her climbing skills. Despite her approach-avoidance reaction to the drug lord and his vile business, she’d forced herself to work alongside Alejandro so she could learn everything they knew, memorizing each piece of intelligence as it came in.

  She slipped into the kitchen, set down the duffle bag packed with her rifle, handgun and ammo, and filled a thermos with coffee. The Multipurpose Utility Vehicle, or MUV, already packed with a repair and first aid kit, cases of water, protein bars, extra fuel, and every piece of long trip survival gear she could filch without drawing attention, awaited in a dark corner of Isabel’s mammoth garage. She’d memorized the owner’s manual and picked what few brains Tio had about maintenance and spare parts needed for the expedition. She’d asked for driving lessons
and over time, she’d been allowed to take the machine out without her hulking buddy. She’d explored every square mile of Isabel’s compound, ranging further with each trip, pushing her boundaries and practicing driving through streams and the roughest terrain she could find, but always returning before sundown. Three months of practice driving, three months of planning, three months of waiting were at last over.

  Her biggest fear was that someone would attempt to stop her from leaving. If she could get an hour’s head start, she was certain she could evade Tio and Pepe.

  Alejandro was another matter.

  Alejandro.

  Dammit. Why did her heart race when she thought of him? She should be immune to the man and his charms. She needed him to save her son, that was all. Nothing more. Besides which, they’d been working side-by-side for three months and not once had he ever made one move on her. A damn good thing, because she’d either have to take flight, fight, or sleep with him, and she was afraid she knew already which part of her brain—and body—would win.

  This morning, her focus had to be on her son and getting him away from her lunatic father. Victory would be even sweeter if she could save her poor mother at the same time. Perhaps once Miriam saw Angie and realized help was there, she’d at last stand up to, and escape from, her abusive husband.

  Maglite in her mouth, she let herself into the cavernous space and felt her way to the darkened corner where her chariot awaited. Getting it outside without making a lot of noise was key. She tossed the backpack onto the passenger seat of the two by two, strapped down one of the tarps she’d ordered for the expedition, and approached the smallest of the garage doors. She pressed the opener, held her breath, and strained to hear footsteps. She waited five minutes, then began steering and pushing the vehicle out the door.

  Freaking thing didn’t seem that heavy before, she thought. If it weren’t for the fact that it sounded like a giant lawnmower and would wake the dead, she’d jump in and drive like a bat out of hell. Instead, she continued with the slow roll across the floor, its rubber tires squeaking like enormous mice. At last, she cleared the door and made it to the blessed downward slope of the concrete driveway. Just as it appeared the vehicle would escape from her clutches, she leaped in and veered it away from a pile of jagged rocks. According to Tio, the tires were the most aggressive ones in the industry, but if they hit something the wrong way, even they could be flattened. That was all she needed. She’d be finished before she even started. The wind whipped her ponytail into her eyes, reminding her to put on her helmet. Now or never. She turned the key in the ignition, and the MUV roared to life. She clutched the steering wheel with one hand, shifted into all wheel drive, punched the latitude and longitude of her father’s compound into the GPS, and floored it.