She withdrew her hand. “That’s personal family business.”
Oh yeah. Asking questions was frowned upon. “No problem.” He withdrew as well, turning to watch the trees outside.
She lasted about three minutes. “There’s a special woman just for the Prophet. She’s so very lucky.”
“Hmmm.” Mal didn’t turn back. The special one had better not be a kid.
“I think we’d have fun together,” she said, accelerating. “I like you.” Her voice was wistful.
He turned slightly, pretending to warm to her. It was like manipulating a butterfly. “I like you, too. Are there guys you don’t like?”
Her mouth tightened, and a flush spread across her girl-next-door face. “Of course not. I love everybody in the family.” She said the words as if she was reminding herself. “I’m lucky to share any type of moment with the chosen few.”
Any type of moment? “I assume refusing to share time or anything else with a family member is wrong.” He tested his theory.
“Of course,” she said, nodding emphatically. “We all belong to one another. People are just light and energy, you know.”
How many others had the poor girl belonged to? Mal searched for the right words. “You never told me how old you are.” He still guessed around eighteen.
“Twenty.” She pursed her lips. “Though age is just a number, right?”
He hated that saying. Some numbers mattered. “How long have you been in the family, April?” It was the first time he’d used her name, and he did it on purpose. Anything to throw her enough so she kept answering his questions.
“Forever. I don’t remember a time I wasn’t in the family.” She turned and smiled at him, her eyes unfocused again. “You should join. I’d be there for you.”
God, he was going to save this girl if it was the last thing he did. But for now, he had a job to do. “I’m kind of a take-charge guy. It seems like I wouldn’t be welcome there.”
She grasped his thigh again. “The Prophet really likes you. He wants you with us.”
If Mal could get rid of a couple of the higher-ups, good old Isaac would want him even more. “Did he tell you that?”
She pressed her lips together and then, thinking it through, slowly nodded. “Yes.”
“I don’t know.” He rubbed his eyes. “Ever since I was shot, I’ve been drinking a lot. It’s hard for me to remember some things, and it seems like the family is big on, well, familyness. I don’t think I could navigate that many people.”
She squeezed. “You don’t have to know everyone. That takes time.”
“I’d hate to tick off the wrong person.” He tilted away from her again. “Forget it. I deserve to be alone.”
“No,” she breathed. “You’re not alone, Malcolm. I’ll help you.”
He turned fully toward her, patting her hand, feeling like the biggest ass in the world. “You will? You mean it?”
She nodded solemnly. “Of course. Okay. Besides the Prophet, there are three men basically in charge.”
Mal listened and steered her in the right direction several times as he gathered information. She had been perfectly groomed to manipulate, and for that, Isaac Leon would pay.
They finally reached the mansion, and as soon as April stopped the van, a tough-looking brunette of about thirty opened his door. “Malcolm. My name is Millicent, and the Prophet has asked me to show you around the gardens.”
It hit him, then. He’d told April she was too young for him and not his type the day before. Apparently, she’d reported that back to the people in charge.
This woman was her opposite.
He stepped out and shut the door, waiting until April had made her way around the front. Then he winked at her. “I appreciated the ride, April. I hope we can meet up later.”
The way her eyes lit up nearly made him snap. At the very least, if either woman reported to Isaac, they’d say he’d been appreciative and interested. Then nobody would punish April. Her happy hop as she bounced away made him want to kill somebody.
He smiled at Millicent, too easily playing his part. “Tell me about these gardens.”
