“No, no. I don’t believe so. Wives need to learn their place. I enjoy training them but I have to say, it’s easier if they have the basics bred into them at a young age. You do a good job. I generally prefer to take mine from a church like yours. It’s a special calling I have from the Lord.” I hold my breath as I wait for lightning to strike me dead but God apparently is okay with me lying for a noble cause.
Young nods, mouth pursed, fingers steepled in front of his lips. “I’m convinced yours will be a good match. You say your branch of the Mormons goes all the way back to Brigham Young? I’m a descendent, you know.”
I’ll have to thank Slate for the nice touch.“I have some letters of his in a special vault for those, like you, who wish to see them. I’d love to show you around some day.” I stand and head to the door, needing to know if Blakely is okay. It’s been almost twelve hours since last I spoke with her. What if he’s just stalling and she’s already out of the country?
Young takes his sweet time getting up, no doubt enjoying my impatience. “I may take you up on that. Perhaps we could exchange women, get a wider gene pool for the future?”
“I’ll talk to the elders when I get back but I doubt it. Can we get on with this? I’m anxious to get married. I assume my lawyer’s paperwork was all in order?”
He chuckles and hands me a marriage license. “Quite meticulous. Come.”
“Perfect.” After putting out the cigar, I’m led down the same drab, cinderblock hallway as yesterday. Today, in addition to Blakely, there’s what I assume are two witnesses and a preacher. My heart reaches out to her but I dare not show anything but disdain.
She looks like she hasn’t slept and there’s a big bruise on her lip and cheek. Her hands are tied behind her back. I want to kill the bastard for hurting her. I wish to hell I’d never agreed to let her into this facility.
David smiles brightly and claps his hands. “Blakely dear, you know Mr. Taylor. Despite your stubborn nature and advanced age, he’s agreed to marry you. You’re very lucky. Your other two suitors had an entirely different future for you in mind.”
The preacher, dressed in black, says a short prayer under his breath and raises his hands to the ceiling. “By the authority vested in me by the state of Utah and the Church of Heavenly Bliss, Blakely Smythe now belongs to Mr. Jack Taylor.”
He turns to Blakely, lip curled in a snarl. “Your job is to obey, to bear his children, and to bring them up in the ways of the church. You are now man and wife.”
Grinning lewdly, I tug on my belt buckle. “Take her to the bedroom and prepare her. I’ll be there shortly.”
She clears her throat and spits in my face. “Fuck you, Taylor.”
Good girl. I was hoping she wouldn’t blow my cover.
Laughing, I pull out a handkerchief and wipe my cheek. “Indeed, you will. Give me just a moment.”
I hate to see her dragged off but need to do a bit of business with Young. I hand over a large canvas bag full of small bills. After he unzips it with a cursory inspection, he shakes my hand and smiles. “Good luck with her. You’re going to need it.”
Outside, he leads me around the block and points at one of the many apartment doors. “She’s in there.”
I wait until he leaves to jump up the three stairs and open the door. A split-level, I climb some more to reach the living room. Still no Blake, I run down a hallway and find her in the bedroom.
Air whooshes out of my lungs.Thank God. She’s here.
Lapis eyes entreat me but before she can speak I put my lips to her ears. “Hidden cameras.”
Then, I show her the miniature wand in my hand as I press her head to my fly. “Unzip my pants.”
“I won’t.” She punches my stomach and I almost laugh but instead hiss like it was more than just a tap.
“You’ll pay for that.” I pace around the room with my wand up my sleeve as I unbuckle my belt.
The first electronic device I find is a small camera in the sprinkler above the bed. I take it out and say into it, “Sorry, David. This is my private affair.”
Smashing it with a heel, I systematically search the apartment until it’s clean.
My voice goes low when I reenter the bedroom. “They’re going to be listening at the apartment next door. Can you scream for me?”
At the count of three, my fist claps into my hand, and she cries out. “Ow!”
“That’s for spitting on me. Now, on your knees and suck my cock.” I lead her over to the bed, hug her to my chest, and whisper, “You scared the shit out of me. Did they hurt you?”
“Yeah, some but not, you know, sexually.” She holds me tightly as I take a deep breath and exhale slowly.
Thank God. “In order to get out of here, we’re going to have to make it sound like we’re having nonconsensual sex. Can you do that?” I kiss the top of her nose.
