“And your sis died when you were five? That’s a lot of years ago.”
“Hey, I have an idea. Maybe he’s murdered others? Hidden away their bodies? A guy like him doesn’t stop at one, does he?” Her face looks to me to provide her with hope.
“I like how your woman thinks.” Lucky grins and I do, too but for another reason. I like how he called hermy womanand she didn’t correct him.
I work to be the voice of reason while also giving Blakely what she’s looking for. “We don’t have enough evidence to bring it to the Feds but we can probably check all of the storage facilities nearby. We can also see if Young bought any refrigerators or freezers lately. A place as large as the Heavenly Bliss compound would probably need quite a few.”
When she tries to stand, I pull her back to me as she continues thinking out loud. “But how many freezers would he personally remove? Can we find his credit card receipts?”
“What if he paid cash?” I play devil’s advocate.
Lucky takes the ball, “No, that would raise eyebrows. I bet he just buys a new freezer or ‘fridge for one of the residents, takes the old one away, and stores it.”
Blakely shudders. “You’re right. Young has a very thorough nature. If something worked once, he wouldn’t change it.”
“I’ll ask Slate to get on it immediately.” I jump up and grab my cell phone.
“Wait, why would Patten Security want to help with this?” She touches my hand, fucking sparks shooting between us.
“Let’s just say Grayson loves to collect favors and now I’ll owe him another.”
Lucky and Suds laugh. “You have no idea, luv. He’s a hard man to say no to.”
“Is that why you’re here?” Blakely turns to Lucky and he blushes.
“Not really. It’s more of a favor for my pal Jack, here.”
She grins at my men. “Thank you. I mean it. I guess I’ll owe you all free consultations for the rest of your lives.”
Lucky sticks out his foot, Suds trips, and gives him the finger. “Good, because Lucky, here, needs his head examined.”
“Fuck off, ya pecker-head. You’re the one who’s off his rockah.”
I stand between them, palms up. “Enough. Focus. We need to find at least one body. Okay? And somehow, we need to get this bastard to show his hand.”
Lucky gets out of his recliner, walks into the kitchen and makes a salami and mustard sandwich. Then he sits, munching away. “Why are you so sure the first death wasn’t a horrible accident?”
Blakely fields this one. “Innocent men don’t hide bodies. They call the police, explain the circumstances. They certainly don’t create elaborate lies.”
I stroke the soft skin of Blakely’s arm wondering if the questions upset her. Then, I place a call to Slate and update him on the situation.
“You want me to look up his credit card receipts, huh?” He pauses for a while. “Pretty damn illegal without a warrant. All we have is a missing woman and the memories of a five-year-old girl. How about you find someone else willing to corroborate what happened? That might be enough to do this legally. Sure, I could hack in but when the lawyers come knocking, everything gets thrown out in court… unless your planning on killing the guy. Are you?”
I stand and pace, the phone at my ear. “The motherfucker sells women. Isn’t that enough to get a warrant? He kidnapped Blake, tried to send her overseas.”
Slate’s voice gets low. “Pal, she said on tape, she wanted back in. The documentary team just released the video on Facebook and it went viral.”
“Shit. Those fucking bastards. We need someone to start calling around to the local storage facilities and see if Young has any space rented.”
“Already on it. You stay put for a couple days.”
With that, I hang up, and update what Slate said to Suds and Lucky.
“Sit still? That his advice?” Lucky paces the small cabin. It takes him three strides to get across the cabin, two more to the kitchen. “How would we escape? The clay may be bullet proof but we’d be sitting ducks out here in the middle of nowhere.
I thought the same thing but for right now, it’s the best we can do. “Lucky, check out our ammo and Suds, find us an exit strategy.”
Both men nod, content to do something other than pace the small interior of the adobe house.
My job is to find someone willing to talk to us. I turn to Blakely who’s making a pickle and bologna sandwich. “Do you remember any other people who left the cult who might talk? Anyone at all?”
“I don’t but I can call my cousin, the one who helped me get emancipated. She might.”
After she talks for a while on her cell phone, she looks up with a grin. “Devyn said she’ll email me a few names and numbers.”
Grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge, Blakely stands close, and I draw her into my lap to kiss her. So much has gone on, we haven’t even talked about last night. Will she let me make love to her again? Does she feel anything at all for me?
When I kiss her ear, she turns her head and her lips land on mine. My cock goes hard remembering last night, how tight she fit, how she screamed as she came. Rough love-making is not my thing. It was play-acting and not a kind I’m real comfortable with. I need her to come to know the real me.
I pull her to standing so I can feel her whole body against mine. When she kisses me full of passion, I all but lose my mind and only stop so I can whisper in her ear. “Let me make love to you, Mrs. Taylor.”
