“Well, uh, my second book, the reason I first came to live with Audra and Rosalie in fact, was because I was researching cults to base my fictional one on. I mainly focused on the Order of Truth. That old cult from the seventies that lived out near Sunrise? I was interested in the religious fanaticism and the isolated location, but I wanted something more criminal, so I fell down a little Sons of the Badlands research rabbit hole. For the story, I liked their whole nomad thing, and their broader scope. Much more menacing. Combining the two created a nice fictional hybrid that suited my purposes.”
She wasn’t surprised he was staring at her a bit like she’d grown a second head. Because she was yammering on about what she liked aboutcultsfor God’s sake. “Fictional purposes, obviously,” she tacked on lamely. “That stuff is all interesting to me for my…fictional world.” She shut her mouth, because how bizarre must that sound to someone who didn’t write?
But Royal didn’t look confused or horrified. He still looked very, very serious. “Brooke and I were born into the Sons.”
He just…said that. Like it was a normal thing to tell someone.I was born into a notorious, murderous biker gang.
“Oh,” was all she could think of to say.
“Brooke managed to get us out when I was pretty young, but we got separated and the foster families I was tossed around to weren’t much better. So I went back.”
Franny nodded along like this was a normal conversation she knew how to deal with. Her with her privileged upper class, only child upbringing.
He studied her, like he was keeping track of every last reaction she had to this information.
“You’ve got eight million questions, but you won’t ask them,” he said. “Why? Because it’scrass?”
She shifted in her chair. That was the word she’d used when they’d discussed Daisy Delaney. It wasn’t the only word that applied here, and she wasn’t sure what he wanted from her. She wasn’t sure what was the right way to deal with this. Maybe just…try to keep it simple.
“Yeah, it is. I like to research. I use a lot of real-life stuff in my books. I follow a lot of…stories and things that interest me because people interest me. But I’m not going to make you uncomfortable to get some questions answered for a book I might write someday. That’s not nice or right, and I like to be both. If I can.”
She didn’t have to tell him she was already thinking about how she could fit it into her current book. Giving her federal agent heroorher cop heroine a background of having actually grown up in a cult, or at least something dangerous, had about a million new ideas springing to life.
Maybe that sowed a lot of distrust when they had to work together—the fed didn’t trust a cop from such a background? Maybe they both came from horrible backgrounds and bonded over it?
But she wasn’t going to let her mind go down that road right now.
He shook his head. “You’re just about the strangest woman I ever met.”
She felt a little stung and knew that was stupid. But it didn’t stop the words from falling out of her mouth. “You are not the first person to say that to me, but I’m not going to lie it’s far more insulting coming from a cop that grew up in a biker gang.”
Then he laughed. Really laughed. Not caustic or bitter or anything. “Hell, Franny.” He shook his head. “I’m not trying to insult you. You’re interesting.Idon’t find people very interesting as a whole. I tend to want to know as little about everyone as possible, because more often than not, people suck.”
She thought about that. He hadn’t really asked any questions about her. Maybe he was right and he didn’t have any—considering she had approximately eight million for him.
But…not being interested in people, believing they all sucked, didn’t add up. “You wouldn’t have gone into helping people if that were totally true.”
He looked down at his plate, a puzzled kind of expression on his face. Then he got to his feet. “I should get going. Thanks for dinner. Can I help you clean up?”
Franny shook her head. “No, don’t worry about it.”
Still he collected his dishes and took them to the sink. For a moment, she just sat there, then she finally pushed herself into a standing position.
Obviously, he’d done what he’d come for. He wasn’t just going to hang around all night. He had his own place, and he was probably exhausted since he’d had to work twelve hours today. Not just lie in bed all day like she had.
“I really appreciate not having to make myself a meal for once,” he said as he moved for the door.
Right. He really was kind, but it was clear he wanted to head for the hills, and who could blame him?
But he didn’t stride right out. He turned and gave her a kind smile. “And the company’s not bad.”
“Except for the poking into your tragic past, I would assume.”
“Pretty sure I gave that up of my own free will. It’s not something I just go around telling everyone.” He studied her in that intense way of his. She wondered if he did that to criminals or if she was special.
You are not special in this scenario, Franny. A step above criminal maybe, but not special.
“So what’s your childhood story? You didn’t grow up here.”
