I’m sweating bullets but he’s fucking cheerful as hell. “Youwillmake sure she won’t talk to the media? I can’t have incidences like this getting out.”
I laugh as the knot in my gut lessens. “You think I want anyone to know? Don’t worry. I assume you took a moment to check my references?”
“Impressive.” He must be worried because more guards appear by the gate.
I try to sound detached. “Not really. I own so much more but never mind all that. You’ve actually done me a big favor by locking her up. Can you have a preacher standing by? A license? And, I want a bedroom.”
He chuckles. “Eager?”
“I’m not getting any younger, David. Do we have a deal or not?”
“You’ll never let her talk?” In the compound, there’s a large townhouse with a picture window where the cult leader stares right at me.
I assume it’s too dark to see me but just in case, I lower in my seat. “I’ll cut out her tongue, if that’s what it takes. All I need is a vagina and a womb.”
“You can do what you want when you get her back to New York.” The man in the window turns, lowers the shades, and I let out my breath slowly.
“Damned right I will. By tomorrow, I expect her obedient and dressed but no drugs. If she’s on some kind of shit, it would be bad for the baby.”
When we hang up, I need a shower. I’ve done plenty of undercover work so I know what’s expected. I just had to channel my inner asshole. Even so, it makes me sick.
Done with the first part of my strategy, I call Slate. “How far out is my backup?”
“They’ll be there in the morning. Are you really going to marry her?”
“Damn right I am. We can always get a divorce. I just need Young to believe my cover.”
He chuckles. “A cult member with a lot of wives and too much money? No problem.”
“Excellent. Stay in touch. And thanks.”
All night long, I watch the compound and stay awake by making notes for my next novel. The lights go dark around eleven and no one comes or goes. When the sun comes up, I drive to the airport and pick up the Patten guys along with some cash.
I give Lucky and Suds the lowdown while I drive back and it’s about nine when I buzz the front gate.
David Young shakes my hand with an eely smile. “Please, Mr. Taylor, come and join me in my study.”
“Love to.” Leaving the guys outside in the van, I walk down the sidewalk to his upscale townhouse. Inside his mancave, I settle into a leather chair as he offers me a cigar. I sniff the length and cut it as a man who is used to finer things.
“Cohiba Behike?”
“Good guess.” The cult leader’s eyebrows raise.
I pitch my voice to sound insulted. “I’m quite familiar with the blend. The aroma is distinct but I’m surprised. I haven’t seen one in years. Now, let’s get down to business. How much?” I lean over and puff while he lights my cigar.
“Not so fast. I love this girl as a daughter. I need to know she’ll be well taken care of.”
Chuckling, I eye him, lean back, and grin. “How about I promise she’ll get the same fine care as her sister?”
I must’ve hit a nerve because Young’s face just about explodes and he drops his cigar in his lap. “I don’t know who you’ve been talking to but Blakely Smythe has no sister. The doctor is delusional and has been making false accusations for years.”
Brushing off his pants, the bastard picks up his smoke, and puffs out a white ring.
What an interesting reaction. Perhaps Blakely was right.Cigar smoke fills the room while I eye him, letting him think I know more than I do. He starts to sweat as I tap the end of my cigar on a crystal ashtray.
Finally, I exhale with a long sigh. “I won’t let my new wife near the media. She’s going to be a good little girl even if I have to cuff her to a bathroom radiator.”
He nervously dabs his brow with a tissue. “That’s a bit harsh.”
