Isaac nodded. “If you take care of this problem for me, you can stay. Both April and Millicent shall keep you company as long as you wish. Angel as well, if you like.”
Mal tried to look satisfied, but his gut churned with bile. “All right.” He jerked Orchid to her feet. “I’ll need to borrow the van.” Somehow, he had to get her to safety.
Orchid whimpered, no doubt as scared as she was confused. But the woman was smart. She didn’t say a word about him.
Mal pulled her toward the door.
“Wait,” Isaac ordered.
Malcolm half-turned in time to see Isaac grasp a stun gun out of his desk and toss it to George. “George is going with you. In this family, we don’t do anything alone. Especially the difficult parts.”
Damn it. “I don’t need help,” Mal snapped.
“Too bad,” George said, sounding downright gleeful.
Isaac motioned to Malcolm. “Please give me George’s gun.”
It hurt, but Mal handed over the weapon. They still had his gun. Well, one of his guns.
Orchid tried to pull free, but Mal held her arm tight. She hissed. “I’ve been with you for ten years, Prophet. How can you do this?”
Even after all this, she called him Prophet. Something ached in Mal.
Isaac’s gaze was hard as rock. “You’ve betrayed me. You’ve betrayed God. You deserve this fate.”
Mal gave the prophet a hard look. “You have any other weapons?”
“Yes, but bullets can be traced.” Isaac shut his desk drawer. “You’ll have to be resourceful.”
“Fine.” Mal let Orchid yank her arm free, and surprised, she fell onto the couch. He made a show of bending down to grab her. Twisting his shoulders, he attached the bug inside the fireplace, which had gone dead.
His smile even felt feral as he moved to open the door. He’d have to figure out what to do with George on the way. This was a mess, for sure. “Orchid, you’ll walk with us through the house, and you’ll say nothing. One word, and I’ll knock your ass out.”
The woman swallowed, her entire body trembling next to his.
He kept his expression hard. What the hell was he going to do with her?
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Pippa couldn’t breathe. She looked frantically around the outside of Trixie’s apartment building, but only the wind and pine trees stirred. Everything inside her wanted to turn and run back to her car. But if Trixie needed help, she had to go in.
She tugged a can of Mace out of her purse and nudged Trixie’s door open.
Silence of the truly empty kind ticked like a bomb within. Pippa looked over her shoulder, saw no other people, and edged inside.
The living area was decorated in bold blues and purples, with a sofa and chair facing a television on the wall. The room was tidy, save for one bright pink throw pillow on the floor. Not unusual. The room led right into a sparkling-clean kitchen with a small round table. Mail and other papers were scattered across the table, as if Trixie had been working on finances.
Pippa kept up her Mace, ready to spray, as she looked into the bathroom to the left. It was the only one in the apartment. She held her breath as she whipped open the brightly colored shower curtain.
Nothing.
Okay. One room left. Exiting the bathroom, she moved back toward the kitchen and swung into the room. The bed was unmade, but nothing seemed out of place.
Her shoulders went down. Glancing guiltily over her shoulder again, she moved toward the dresser and checked the false bottom beneath the lower left drawer. Trixie’s go-bag was still in place. Pippa’s chest constricted again. Why wasn’t Trixie answering her phone?
Pippa put the bag back in place and hustled from the apartment, making sure she shut the door. The wind pushed against her as she made her way to the car and dialed Trixie again.
Only the answering machine. Igniting the engine, she pulled away from the curb, heading into Minuteville and the diner where Trixie worked.
