“We need to have someone at their house at night,” I was telling Patrick. “Apparently, these Guardians are watching her house, too.”

“No problem.”

“I’ll do it tonight, but you and Quentin need to work out a schedule, twelve hour shifts. One at the shop, one at the house. Okay?”

“We will, boss.”

I held a bundle of bills out to him. “Go get some food. The Walmart’s open. You should get a mini fridge and a microwave, too. Take Quentin with you.”

“Yes, sir.”

I watched them go, jumping into Patrick’s old, beat-up pickup truck. The damn thing snorted and farted as it headed out of the parking lot, but it kicked up dirt like a truck half its age. There was something to say for the elderly, I supposed.

I went inside the shop and nodded to the girls. “Where’s your mother?”

“In the office,” Sue informed me.

Things had been quiet since Harry. I thought it was because the Guardians had freaked themselves out with his death. But I was sure they’d be back soon enough, and we needed to be prepared when they were. I’d already called Aidan, arranged for another camera system to be installed on Alli’s house. It hadn’t occurred to me earlier that they were watching the house, not until these pictures. But it should have.

“I like the new guys. Tall, strong, and silent. Just my type.”

I tossed the envelope of pictures on her desk, ignoring her comment. “I’m going to post someone at your house from now on.”

She opened the envelope, a look of deep-seated concern on her face until she saw what they were. Then her expression softened, her eyes lighting with that sexual intensity I’d noticed from the day we met.

“Where did you get these?”

“Someone felt the need to give them to the girl I was seeing.”

“Yeah? I guess she didn’t take it well.”

“You could say that.”

“Too bad. Girl doesn’t know what she’s missing.” Alli held up one of the photos and studied it like it was a piece of artwork hanging in the Louvre. “That was a hell of a kiss. I almost thought I’d imagined it.”

“Yeah? You enjoyed that?”

She tilted her head slightly, her eyes scraping up and down the length of me. There was something about that look that made everything inside of me stiffen. And not in a bad way.

“I’ve kissed a lot of frogs in my time, sweetheart. I know a prince when I find one.”

She stood up in the small office and moved up against me, forcing me back against the door, trapping me in her space. She didn’t try to kiss me, but she licked her lips quite dramatically as she slid the hem of my shirt up and began tugging at my belt.

“Now that your girl is out of the picture, maybe it’s time for you to get back on the horse. What do you think?”

I buried my fingers in her hair and twisted her head around, pulling her tight against me. I kissed her with all the anger and frustration and grief that had been struggling to find an outlet over the past few days. If I was going to be blamed for it anyway, why not enjoy a little release?

And she knew what she was doing. Her hands were like magic as they slipped into my pants. If she could do that with her hands, what would it be like to take everything else she was offering? My heart was threatening to pound out of my chest at the thought. I’d been a good boy long enough. Maybe it was time to have a little fun.

She laughed when I pushed her back, bending her over the desk where she’d been sitting the first time we met.

“This was exactly how I pictured our first time, baby,” she murmured as she handed me a condom that had been conveniently waiting in a desk drawer.

One of the perks of working in a sex toy shop, I supposed.

 

 

Days passed without any activity from the Guardians. I took the time to ask around, looking for any and all information I could get on the men who made up the Guardians’ ranks. The church members weren’t very forthcoming, but other locals, the people considered Gentiles among the church members, were mostly willing to talk. And a few of them were great sources of information.

I learned, for example, that the leader of the Guardians, a man named Gerald Smythe, had been a member of a fundamental group living in Montana before he came to Arizona. Apparently, his people believed they were practicing the faith the way the founder had originally intended. And it was those archaic values that he brought to Ellaville, those principles that gave him license to do what he was doing to the townspeople. He believed that the people of this town had drifted too far from the church’s teachings, and the only way to bring them back in line was to rid the town of bad influences. That meant getting rid of the Gentiles. All of them.

It wasn’t just Alli and her girls he was targeting. Smythe had used funds from some source no one had yet identified to buy out most of the ranches that surrounded the city, giving the deeds to families within the church. Those businesses in town that were owned by non- church members that were faltering, he’d used his influence over the bank to foreclose on them, then bought out the businesses and given those to church members. Now he’d moved on to businesses that he had no legal means to take, harassing the owners, making threats and tagging their buildings, just as he’d done to Alli. Some had caved immediately, others were fighting back.

It was all-out war between the Guardians and the Gentiles. And, it seemed, I was the only one who was interested in shutting them down.

I’d put out the word to some of these other businesses, offered them security and support. None had responded. They were all too afraid of making a bad situation worse.

I didn’t fucking care. I was going to take these people down one way or another.

In the meantime, the architect had come back with plans that Brent and I could finally agree on. Construction on the warehouse was set to start in ten days or so.

I walked out of the local Walmart, my hands full of bags of food and supplies for me and the guys. I was just finishing putting them in the trunk of my car when someone grabbed my arm and forced it against the small of my back. A hand patted my side, removing the revolver I had tucked into a small rig under my light jacket.

“Tsk, tsk. Carrying a concealed weapon is against the city ordinance, Mr. Stone.”

“I have a license.”

“You might have a license given by the state of Arizona, but you don’t have the permission of the Guardians, and that’s the only law that matters around here.”

I was yanked around and found myself facing a short, husky man with artificially dark hair that was combed awkwardly over a balding pate. He was wearing a dark suit that was badly tailored, a blue band wrapped around his right upper arm. The mark of the Guardians.

“Mr. Smythe, I assume.”

He inclined his head. “Now that we know each other, we can get down to business.” He stepped forward, looking me over like I was a horse he was thinking of buying. “Stay out of my way, Mr. Stone, and I’ll stay out of yours.”

People were passing us, shoppers headed in and out of the store. A few cast wary glances in our direction, but none of them stopped. And not a single one pulled out a cell phone to call the police.

“You and your people killed my friend.”

A brief touch of sadness brushed Smythe’s face. “That was an unfortunate accident. If your friend had kept his nose out of our business, it wouldn’t have happened.”

“He was simply driving home from a friend’s house.”

He shook his head. “That’s not all he was doing, and you know it.” Smythe moved close enough that I could smell his sour breath. “You come into our little town here, and you decide to interfere in church business, start a business that directly competes with us, and deflower a beautiful young church girl, and you honestly think we’ll just turn the other cheek and let you do what you want? I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

“Last I checked, Ellaville was still part of the United States. The same Constitution that allows you to build up your little church is the same Constitution that gives me the right to conduct business anywhere I damn well please.”

Smythe’s head tilted. And then he punched me low in the belly, forcing the air out of my lungs. I doubled over as much as the men holding my arms allowed. People continued to walk past us, continued to glance at us and ignore what was happening.

“That’s brave,” I muttered as I fought to catch my breath. “Tell your men to let me go, and then hit me again. See what that gets you.”

Smythe grabbed me by the hair, forcing my head up so that he was looking directly into my eyes. “Stay away from Allison Collins. Stay out of the Guardians’ business. In fact, why don’t you pack up your stuff and go back to Memphis where you belong, Mr. Stone.” He tugged my hair a little harder. “We wouldn’t want anyone else to get hurt. Especially that fine young woman, Ruth Pearce.”

Anger rushed through me. “You touch her, and I’ll kill you!”

“You hear that, boys? He threatened me. Doesn’t that give me the right to defend myself?” And, with that, he proceeded to let the punches fly, catching me in the jaw, the nose, the chest and the ribs, pummeling me with a glee that a man of God should never have desired to feel. All I could do was stand there and wait for it to end because his men were still holding me despite my attempts to break free. And they were big men, strong.

“Go home, Mr. Stone,” Smythe said, out of breath as he backed away.

I spit on him, my mouth so full of blood that it was more blood and mucus than saliva. It splattered on the front of his shirt and across his tie, staining the white and blue fabric in big, irregular blobs that I hoped his good, pious wife would never be able to get out.

“Asshole!” he cried, slamming his fist into the side of my head.

That was the last thing I remembered until I woke in the front seat of my car an hour later.

Damn fool had a hell of a left hook!