Someone had spray-painted “Go home, Infidel” on the outside of the warehouse.

I watched as Quentin sprayed the paint away with the power washer I bought this morning, the letters smearing and melting under the surge of water and detergent. The construction crew called and said they wouldn’t be able to start work until later in the month. I got the impression that I should start looking for a new crew.

Exhaustion lay heavily on my shoulders. Sleep was an elusive thing these days, and, even when it came, getting comfortable was still proving to be an issue. It’d been five days, but the pain in my ribs was still searing whenever I moved the wrong way, which seemed to be every movement I made.

Brent called last night on the pretense of letting me know that Sue and Tommy were settling in well at Remy’s, and that Tommy had been registered successfully at the local high school. She’d balked at the idea of having to finish her senior year without her friends, but Alli had managed to convince her that it was for the best. There was also some talk about a new car in there somewhere.

I turned away, headed to the car. I had to go into town to check the mail because the post office was refusing to deliver to the warehouse for reasons I still didn’t understand. Patrick was out at the shop, and Quentin had borrowed a backhoe from a friend to begin clearing the empty lot next door for our planned training area. I was determined to go forward with this thing even if the Guardians were just as determined to scare off the construction crew. I’d build the damn thing myself if I had to.

I found myself thinking about Ruth as I drove past the bookstore. It looked like it had on the hundred other trips into town I’d made since moving out to the warehouse, quiet and unpretentious on the corner. I never saw her. She was either hiding inside or gone. I had no way of knowing. But I missed her. I wished I could explain to her what had happened and why, but I couldn’t even explain it to myself. I was wrong to kiss Alli the way I had that night. Even if the pictures hadn’t captured the moment and found their way to Ruth, I would have had to tell her. And she would have left me anyway.

I was my own worst enemy. I couldn’t help but mess up every relationship that had ever mattered to me. I knew Raelyn wasn’t ready for a commitment, but I pushed her anyway. And I kissed Alli willingly. I couldn’t even use the booze as an excuse because I’d managed to keep my wick dry on nights when I was much drunker than that. I just couldn’t help myself.

I walked into the post office with a heavy heart. There were a couple of other people there, housewives checking their own boxes. Everyone in this town seemed to know each other. These two were gossiping about something, some woman who’d lost her job because the church didn’t think she was pious enough to handle church business anymore.

“A bishop’s daughter. Can you believe it?”

“What did she do?”

“I guess she was seeing a man her family didn’t approve of. Some out-of-town guy who isn’t a part of the church.”

“Well, there you go. You simply can’t date non-believers if you want to maintain your reputation.”

“Her whole family is humiliated. I heard her father didn’t show up to Sunday services because of it. Told everyone he was sick, but really he just couldn’t show his face.”

“Poor man.”

“On the bright side, the bookstore has an opening. I might tell my sister-in-law. She’s been looking for a job for a while now.”

“The bookstore?” I asked.

The two women looked over at me, their glances making it clear they were unimpressed with my intrusion into their conversation. And then they turned on their heels as one, storming out of the post office.

I watched them go, a sort of dread settling in my stomach. Smythe had lived up to his promise. He was going after Ruth.

I couldn’t let that happen.

I knew where she lived just because she’d allowed me to follow her home one night when we’d stayed at the store much later than we should have. It was the early dawn hours, and I was worried about her being out alone at that time. She’d made it home safe, and I now knew that she lived in an apartment on the north side of town. What I saw when I drove up today frightened me a little.

The Guardians seemed to like spray paint. And whoever had tagged the warehouse last night had been busy. In bright red paint, the word Jezebel was painted on the door of Ruth’s apartment. The paint was still fresh enough that when I knocked on the door, some of it stained my knuckles.

“You’re the last person who should be here today,” a voice behind me said. I turned to find an older woman standing in the doorway of the neighboring apartment, a small dog in her arms.

“Why do you say that?”

“Can’t you read? I assume you’re the young man she told me about, the one who’s caused all this trouble.”

I inclined my head slightly. “I never intended for this to come back on her.”

“Yes, well, outsiders rarely understand the intricacies of the church. You think they live in the modern world, therefore they live as everyone else does. But there’s a reason why they tend to keep themselves isolated. And why they keep the secrets of the church a secret.”

“She’s a grown woman.”

“She is. But she’s also a child of the church. The sooner you understand and respect that, the easier it will be for both of you.”

I brushed that bit of misguided wisdom off and turned away. “Please let her know I’m looking for her,” I said over my shoulder.

“I won’t do that. I won’t be party to making things worse for her.”

The woman slammed her door. I did the same, slamming my car door before driving away.

 

 

I’d set up a workstation for myself at the back of the warehouse: a desk, a computer, and one of those overly efficient printer-scanner-copier things. I was looking through the email Aidan had forwarded to me from the tech department back in Memphis when an email alert caught my eye. It was anonymous, but the subject line suggested I knew the sender.

What you were looking for, it said.

I clicked on the link and discovered a file filled with police reports, measurements and photographs, lab reports, and a cursory autopsy report. It was the investigative file into Harry’s accident.

“Thank you, Willis,” I whispered under my breath.

Red paint consistent with cars manufactured by Kia from 2005 to 2009 was found on the side of Harry’s black truck. A list of cars matching that description, along with the names of locals who owned similar cars, was included in the report. I read through it, but most of the names meant nothing to me. I hadn’t been in Ellaville long enough to be able to say this person was with the church, but this person wasn’t. Nor had I been able to positively identify members of the Guardians beyond Smythe and Ruth’s brother, Matthew. I knew a few by sight, but that was about it.

I would have to find someone willing to help me put faces and names together. That would be a real trick in this town.

I read through the analysis of the tire tracks and the marks on the side of the road made when Harry lost control. The investigator suggested that Harry was traveling at a high rate of speed when he went off the road, possibly attempting to outrun a pursuer. That conjured up an image that would haunt me, Harry desperately maneuvering his vehicle in an attempt to avoid being run off the road, only to lose control and do just that. Harry was a cop. He knew how to handle a vehicle under the worst of conditions. For this to have happened to him, the other driver had to have been exceedingly aggressive.

He never had a chance.

I pushed the keyboard away, frustration burning in every muscle of my body. Quentin chose that moment to come inside, his clothing covered in dirt from the tip of his work boots to the roots of his hair.

“Calling it a day?”

“It’s nearly time for my shift at Alli’s.”

I nodded, watching him cross to the bathroom. A moment later, I could hear one of the showerheads come on. I got up and snatched a bottle of soda from the mini fridge, wishing it was something a lot stronger. I had a lead now, but what good did that lead do me if the suspect was untouchable? If I couldn’t even identify the individual behind the attack? I’d half hoped that Smythe owned the Kia suspected in the accident, but things couldn’t possibly be that simple, could they?

I took a long drink and then turned to go back to the desk, deciding to look over the tire mark analysis again, but a shadow crossed my path that shouldn’t have been there. I looked up, surprise stopping me in my tracks. Ruth was standing in the dying sunlight at the open door.

“You’ve ruined my life.”

The words hung heavy in the air, spoken simply as fact. There was no anger in her voice, no accusation. She seemed resigned to the situation in a sad, broken way.

I’d done it. I’d gone and broken another woman.

“I’m sorry, Ruth. I never meant for them to come after you.”

“They fired me from my job. The store is owned by the church, and they felt I no longer represented their interests properly. And then they said I couldn’t worship with the rest of the congregation because my soul is soiled. They’ll only allow me to sit in the outer classrooms, listening to the service over a speaker.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

“The church has been such a big part of my family for as long as I can remember that I don’t know what to do without it.” Tears filled her eyes. “All my friends, my family, they’re all a part of the church. By moving me out of the main part of the temple, they’ve ostracized me from everyone I know and love.”

“I never meant for this to blow back on you.”

“It’s not all your fault. I was there, too. I made my own choices.” She reached up and ran a hand over her forehead. “I just…I heard you were at my apartment today. I wanted to tell you to stay away. If you start coming around again and they find out, it’ll just make things worse.”

I lowered my head. “Okay.”

Hurt rushed through her eyes briefly, but she didn’t say anything. She turned, her hand resting on the edge of the doorjamb. “Are you with her now?” she asked softly.

“Who?”

“The woman from the pictures.”

“Alli?” I grunted softly. “No.”

She nodded, the tension in her shoulders loosening somewhat. “They said you spend a lot of nights at her house.”

“Protecting her from them.”

She glanced over her shoulder at me. “Are they the ones who left those bruises on your face?”

“Smythe decided it was time to introduce himself.”

“You’re walking a dangerous line, picking a fight with these people.”

“I’m not picking the fight. They did when they killed my friend.”

She was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry that happened. It shouldn’t have.”

“No, it shouldn’t.”

Ruth stepped through the door. I followed, standing in the doorway to watch her go. She was almost to her car when they stepped out from behind Quentin’s parked truck and the side of the building.

“Ms. Pearce. What a surprise to find you at this infidel’s place of business.”

“Leave her alone,” I said, stepping out into the dirt lot in front of the warehouse. “She has nothing to do with this.”

One of the blue-band-wearing men grabbed Ruth by the back of her hair. “Sure, she does. She’s your whore, isn’t she?”

“Let her go!”

I started toward the man, but his friends charged me, one grabbing my arm and yanking me back. I jerked and twisted all at the same time, landing a fist in the center of the man’s belly. He doubled over, but his friend stepped up, swinging at my jaw. I jerked back, moving out of his range by inches. I raised my foot, planting it in the center of his belly.

“Impressive,” the first guy said, his hand still tangled in Ruth’s hair. “But fighting back only makes things worse for you and your girl, my friend.”

He had a gun now. I hadn’t seen it before, but it was in his hand now, the barrel pointed toward Ruth’s middle. I stopped short, thrusting my hands into the air.

“Let her go. She has nothing to do with this.”

“Smythe told you to back off. You didn’t, so she’s going to pay the price.”

“What are you going to do?”

The man just smiled, his eyes moving over Ruth’s supple body. The implication made fire rush through my veins. I had to force myself not to react too quickly, not to be too obvious. But I wasn’t going to let him walk off with her.

I slipped my hand behind my back, reaching for the gun that I’d slipped into my waistband out of habit when I got up from the desk. I could just feel the cool of the grip when a new voice joined the party.

“I’d put the gun down if I were you.”

Quentin, dressed only in a pair of jeans, was slowly stepping through the door, a gun between both his hands. “I was a sharpshooter in the Marines,” he added to his warning. “I could part your hair at twice this distance.”

“You wouldn’t dare fire while I’ve got her.”

“Watch me.”

Uncertainty flashed across the guy’s face. I stepped back beside Quentin, pulling my gun and lowering it on the guys who were beginning to find their courage again on the ground.

“I’d do what he says,” I informed the guy holding Ruth. “He knows what he’s talking about.”

That uncertainty came back and stuck this time. I could see the war going on behind his eyes, the fear of Quentin’s gun battling with his fear of Smythe. I wasn’t sure which side would win the battle until he dropped the gun and shoved Ruth away from him, causing her to stumble and fall in the dirt.

“We’ll be back,” he warned. “You can’t protect her twenty-four seven. The moment she’s alone, we’ll be back, and Smythe has some pretty intense plans for her. We were all looking forward to getting our taste when he was done.”

He leered at Ruth, making her whimper as she crawled toward me. I reached down and lifted her to her feet, tugging her behind me as I backed toward the door. The two men on the ground got to their feet and backed toward their friend, careful to keep their eyes on my and Quentin’s guns. They disappeared around the side of the building, and an instant later we heard the roar of a large engine, a truck, I thought. I turned and pushed Ruth inside, my hands moving over her face, her head, looking for injuries that might not have been obvious.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded. “Just a little shaken.”

“Fucking pricks!” I grunted, my hands still moving over her. She reached up and grabbed my wrists, pulling my hands from her.

“What am I going to do now? I can’t go home!”

“You’ll stay here.”

“What?”

“Until they back off. We’ll protect you.”

“They’ll never back off.”

“Then we’ll send you out of town.”

She shook her head. “I can’t leave my parents.”

“Then stay. Quentin, Patrick, and I are always here in some combination. We’ll keep you safe.”

She glanced at Quentin who was standing a little awkwardly behind us. She inclined her head slightly.

“Hello, Quentin.”

“Miss Ruth.”

“You know each other?”

“I went to high school with his little sister.”

I kept forgetting what a small town Ellaville really was. I took her arm and led her to the back of the building, to the door of the office. “You can sleep in here. It’s fairly private when the door’s closed.” I moved past her and grabbed a handful of my clothes from the pipe where they hung. “Anything you need, just ask. I’ll get you whatever.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

I tried not to look at her as I walked past, the realization of what they’d planned to do to her making me sick to my stomach. Quentin had disappeared back into the bathroom, his movements causing echoes to dance around the building. I hung my clothes on a beam protruding from the wall next to Patrick’s things. There were extra cots there in the corner where he and Quentin slept. I dragged one against the back wall, claiming it as my own.

I was getting in deeper and deeper with each day that passed. If I didn’t find a way to stop the Guardians, I was going to lose more than my pride. Alli and Ruth were both depending on me now. I’d never had anyone dependent on me quite like that before. Rae…she never needed me like this. She had always been capable of taking care of herself. This was new, and it scared me all the way down to my core. But when I glanced over and found Ruth watching me from the doorway of the office, I knew I’d never have it any other way.