by Evans, Misty
He kissed her back, rubbed her arm. “Be careful. I know you think Adam may be innocent, but he’s still our number one suspect. I don’t trust him.”
“I know.” She pushed away, tweaked one of his nipples as she walked past him, and headed for the door. There she glanced over her shoulder at the rows of honey jars on the shelves. “I will never look at honey the same way.”
He watched her go, loving the saucy swing of her hips and sound of her light laughter. Ronni was back. His Ronni was back.
But when the shit hit the fan with Adam, old wounds were going to be ripped open again. Could she handle it?
Adam, you cocksucker. Thomas yanked on his T-shirt and grabbed his shoes. Whatever you do, you better not hurt her.
You do, and I’ll kill you.
Chapter Twenty-six
Jacob was waiting for him in his room when Thomas snuck into the men’s quarters. “For a man in quarantine, you sure get around.”
Thomas ran a hand through his wet hair. “Didn’t realize I was still under lock and key.”
Jacob sat in a chair, leaned it back until it stood on two legs. “Where’d you go?”
If Jacob was former military, he knew an honest enemy was better than a false friend. “To the convenience store up the road. Needed to touch base with the real world. This place can be…stifling.”
“You’re free to leave and not come back.”
You can check out any time you like… “Nah. It was just a crisis of the soul, I guess. I’m back and I plan to stay.”
“I see.” He rose from the chair, all two hundred and some-odd pounds of muscle. “Just so you don’t get any ideas…the next time you have a ‘crisis of the soul’, don’t come back.”
He brushed Thomas on his way to the door, trying to add a physical component to the intimidation.
“What’s your deal, man?”
Jacob turned. “My deal? What are you really doing here, Agent Mann? And don’t feed me bullshit about Adam’s sister coming home.”
There was something about this guy that didn’t add up. “She hasn’t seen her brother since she was nine.”
“Look, drop the pretense. I know you’re working an angle, and if you blow my cover, I swear to God, I’ll have your balls.”
“Your what?”
Jacob stomped back, put his face close to Thomas’s, and lowered his voice. “I’ve been in here for over a year. You and your partner don’t get to ride in here and take away my case. You got that, Mr. FBI?”
His case? “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Jacob stepped back, but his voice grew more menacing. “I’m talking about you and Agent Punto and the goddamned FBI thinking you can step in and take this case away from me and the LAPD when I’m on the verge of bringing Adam Karsni down. I do all the work, and you get the glory. That’s your plan, isn’t it?”
He pointed a finger at Thomas’s face. “Fuck you, Lane.” He used Thomas’s backstopped ID, so at least that cover wasn’t blown. “The FBI isn’t taking over.”
“You’re LAPD?”
“Hell, yes. Detective. Major Crimes.”
Shit. This was so messed up. “Why is LAPD investigating Karsni?”
“You don’t know?”
Thomas shook his head. “Ronni and I had no idea you were an undercover cop.”
Jacob laughed without humor. “Figures. We’re after Karsni because of the guns, man. The guy’s running illegal weapons through here. In the past twenty-four months, guns that came from Mexico showed up in at least thirteen different major crimes in L.A. We suspected they were making a pit stop here and being passed on at the farmer’s markets. I’m this close”—he held up his finger and thumb—“to proving it, and I don’t need no pantywaste Bureau guy screwing things up.”
Pantywaste? Thomas wanted to punch the guy for that. He also wanted ask for ID, but of course, a good undercover cop wouldn’t have any. He’d have to verify Jacob’s story later. Until he did…
He held up his hands in surrender. “I told you, we’re not here as agents. Ronni wanted to see her little brother. That’s all.”
Jacob made a derisive noise in the back of his throat. “She must be as screwed up as he is.”
Thomas’s hackles rose. “What kind of proof do you have on him?”
“Like I’d share it with you.” Jacob headed for the door. “Just stay out of my way, and keep a handle on your partner or girlfriend or whatever the hell she is.”
Thomas let Jacob leave without further comment. Jacob suspected they were working undercover and he’d already staked his claim. How was it that Dupé hadn’t known about LAPD’s investigation?
Time to pull the plug. Further snooping could get him and Ronni in trouble, with Jacob and with Adam, and blow everyone’s assignments. Months of undercover work—if Jacob was to be believed—would be blown. All the research and emotional investment Ronni had in this case would be a waste.
Yep, it was time to go.
If only he knew Jacob was trustworthy.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Sunrise illuminated Ronni’s walk of shame to the house. She’d waited ten minutes to give Thomas time to get back to the men’s quarters to be sure no one saw them coming and going together.
Luckily, most of the farm’s community members still slept or were inside prepping for breakfast. She took detours, finding an almost hidden path behind the honey house that took her south of the farm so she could cut back west near the orchard.
As she went from the orchard to the vegetable field and toward the house, she saw a few people were up and about already, milking cows and gathering eggs from the henhouse.
Ronni’s skin tingled. Her feet nearly skipped across the muddy paths. Her heart felt lighter, happier. As water dripped from the trees, fence posts, and house eaves, she wanted to yell good morning at the top of her lungs to everyone she saw.
Not exactly a stealthy move.
So she hummed to herself and simply smiled at those she met.
A single light blazed in the house’s first floor, coming from the kitchen. Had to be Melanie. Good luck avoiding her. How would Ronni explain her disheveled clothes and honey-crusted hair?
Who cares? I’ll wing it.
But it wasn’t Melanie in the kitchen. It was Adam.
She could have sneaked past him, but he was bent over the sink, his shoulders tense. Was he ill?
A sharp, acrid smell met her nose. Smoke rose from the sink. “Adam? Are you all right?”
He didn’t answer. Ronni moved closer. “Adam?”
Flames licked the edges of a picture. A Polaroid. When Ronni saw the faces centered and smiling, her gut clenched.
Adam was burning the photo Melanie had taken of the two of them.
“We’re full of sin, sister.” His gaze stayed glued on the photograph, the flames eating away their features. “Sin must be destroyed by fire.”
O-kay. Total loo-loo.
Ronni tamped down her uneasiness, tried to shift him out of the way. He resisted, so she reached across him to turn on the tap and put out the flames. “You need to see a doctor.”
He shoved her, hard and fast, sending her slamming into the refrigerator. “You’re a whore. A sinful whore, like all the rest. God has stopped speaking to me because you’re here.”
Then he ran. As she regained her balance, blood pounded in her ears. Her chest was so tight, she had to bend over and gulp for air. Overhead, she heard Adam’s feet stomp up the stairs, the slam of his bedroom door.
Once she could breathe again, she made sure the fire was out. Then she cleaned out the sink, burying the half-burned photo in the garbage.
Her heart pinched, sharp and fierce. Adam was obviously having mental problems, but seeing him burn her photograph, hearing him call her a sinful whore? Too much.
He’s not himself.
Or he’d found out about her and Thomas. Was that what had triggered his anger?
Regardless, having sex with Thomas did not
make her a whore. Ironic that Adam had knocked up Kristine—a married woman—but called his sister a whore for sleeping with a guy?
You’re blowing this out of proportion. He couldn’t know about you and Thomas. He needs to get back on his meds.
But as she trudged upstairs to her room, her earlier buoyancy had totally disappeared.
She wished Thomas were there so she could tell him what had happened and get his take on things. He didn’t always agree with her, but in the past few days, she’d come to rely on his perceptions and astute insights.
Sleep eluded her and she tossed and turned, finally falling asleep midmorning. The sun glared through her bedroom window when she woke to Melanie knocking on her door.
“Roanna? Are you in there?”
Begrudgingly, Ronni got up, rubbed her eyes. Certain muscles she used actively in the honey house ached. She stretched and yawned, shuffling toward the door.
When she opened it, Melanie’s eyes went wide. “My goodness. You look awful. Have you been sick?”
Call it like you see it, Mel. “I couldn’t sleep last night.” Ronni stifled another yawn, trying to look more awake than she felt. The night with Thomas had left her exhausted. Exhilarated, too. A warm buzz zipped through her as she thought about the force of his love-making. “The storm. It was…intense.”
Melanie’s porcelain forehead creased. “What’s wrong with your hair?”
Ronni finger combed the knots, knowing it was pointless. Her fingers came in contact with a brittle patch and she pulled the matted strand forward so she could eye it.
Dried honey. Perfect. This was how she’d get Mel to take her to the salon today. “Oh, I, uh…had to duck into the honey house during the storm. One of the jars fell and somehow”—thank you, Thomas—“I ended up with honey all over me.”
Melanie reached out and buffed the strand between her finger and thumb. “Honey’s good for the hair. It acts as a humectant.”
“A what?”
“Moisturizer.” She folded her arms, her face taking on a look of concentration. “We should add that to our lineup of products. A hair conditioner made with honey. It’s gentle, moisturizing, and would smooth out your frizziness.” Her face broke into a smile. “Of course, you have to wash it out properly.”
Of course. “I tried.”
“Straight honey would work, but as a deep conditioner, it would be easier to handle if we mix it with an oil. Reduce the stickiness. And we need to add protein. Olive oil, perhaps, and yogurt…”
Caught up in her mental recipe, Melanie turned and started down the stairs. “By the way, lunch is ready.”
Ronni called after her. “After lunch, can you fix my hair?”
“I’m heading to the salon this afternoon.”
“Take me with you?”
A tight sigh. Martyr-ish, and yet, Ronni could tell Melanie loved being needed. “I suppose.”
Ronni dressed for lunch, wrapped a bright scarf around her head to tame her locks, and headed to the dining room. Adam was absent. So was Kristine. “Where is everyone?” she asked in the kitchen.
Melanie handed her a brown paper sack and huffed indignantly. “Apparently no one is hungry. I packed a sandwich for you. Let’s go.”
She hustled Ronni out to her car, turned on the radio, and took off for town.
Twenty minutes later, Ronni was in a salon chair with a bright red cape around her shoulders and Melanie was instructing the stylist on how to remove the dried honey from her tangled locks.
For the next hour, Anita—the same gal who’d trimmed Thomas’s hair—worked on Ronni’s while she chatted nonstop. She was experienced with textured hair, and had a head of it herself, so Ronni let herself relax a bit.
Polite conversation and a few pertinent questions later, Ronni discovered Anita had been at the salon for two years. Melanie was the best boss “evva”, and no, Anita didn’t know Adam, though the stylist who’d rented the chair before her had left to live at the farm.
“So Adam never visits the salon?”
“Not that I’ve seen.”
“How about Jacob? Ever seen him?”
Anita’s mouth fell open, giving Ronni a view of her tonsils and the large wad of chewing gum she’d been smacking on. “The hot guy? The one who looks like he’s some kind of secret agent? OMG! I about die every time he comes in here! Sex. On. A. Stick, chica.”
Funny, Jacob gave Ronni the willies. “Does he come in a lot?”
Anita worked a cream conditioner into Ronni’s hair. “Not enough for ol’ Anita here.”
“What does he do when he’s here?”
“Lots of stuff. I think he’s sweet on Lanie.”
Really? Hmm. “Does he ever meet anyone? Bring in boxes or anything for Melanie?”
“I’ve never seen him with anyone but her.” Anita leaned in close, made sure Melanie wasn’t close by. “You ask me, she purposely makes up jobs for him. She takes him to the salon outlet, makes him carry boxes of product and shit. He even hauls out the trash for her. You name it, Sex On a Stick does it.”
Interesting. “So he’s in and out of her office and the storage room a lot then.”
“There’s more than business”—Anita made air quotes and smacked her gum—“going on in that office, if you know what I mean.”
Jacob and Melanie. Ronni had a hard time picturing them together, but weirder things had happened. Melanie seemed to be in love with Adam, and there’d been no puppy dog eyes or verbal exchanges between her and Jacob that had seemed out of the normal. So if something was going on, they were keeping it a secret.
“But you know.” Anita worked her gum some more. “Since there’s no sex allowed on the farm, if they’re gonna do it, they have to do it here.”
Ronni met her eyes in the mirror. “Excuse me?”
“Yeah. You know. That Adam guy is the only one who gets to mess around.”
The New Light. Daniel had imposed the same restrictions on his followers after one of his visions. He’d claimed that God told him it was necessary for His people to abstain while Daniel was to procreate and raise a family of chosen children. A kingdom on earth.
Kristine. The first to carry Adam’s child.
Disappointment unfurled in Ronni’s stomach. My brother really is a nutjob.
She should have asked Anita more questions about Jacob, but all she could think about was Kristine and Adam. The baby. Her niece or nephew was growing inside Kristine’s womb. She should have felt happy about the prospect of Adam having a child. Instead, she felt sick to her stomach.
Steam hydration followed the conditioning treatment, then a blow-dry with a flat brush and oil. All the while, Ronni thought about Adam, the farm, Melanie and the others. Thought about Thomas.
Her family—if you could call Adam that—continued to be a disappointing mess, but she might be able to salvage her personal life yet.
Melanie went in and out of her office every hour or two to hit the restroom or grab some coffee from the break room. She checked on Ronni once during the hours it took to wash, dry, and calm her crazy hair. The salon was moderately busy, so while watching customers come and go from her chair, Ronni came up with various scenarios to get her into the storage room so she could take a peek. Time for the operation was running out. This might be her only chance to prove Jacob was the real criminal and save Adam.
Save Adam. All kinds of weirdness about that idea.
Finally, Anita used a ceramic flat iron to finish. Ronni’s hair looked beautiful, shiny, and healthy once again, and she thanked Anita, adding a nice tip to her fee.
After four hours under Anita’s talented hands, she had to pee. She was washing her hands when Melanie burst in. “Your hair looks miles better,” she said, heading for one of the three stalls.
“Anita did a good job.” She fiddled with her face and waited until Melanie emerged a minute later before asking, “Is there anything I can do for you while I’m here?”
“Heavens, no. You’re Adam’s siste
r. I can’t put you to work.”
“It’s no problem. I could clean the break room or empty wastebaskets while you finish your day.”
The woman glanced at her with an odd expression on her face. “How kind of you, but not necessary. I’ll only be another half an hour or so. Grab a magazine up front and relax. You had a rough night, remember?”
Always solicitous and attentive. No wonder everyone gravitated to her.
Ronni followed Melanie out of the restroom and they both pulled up short. Jacob stood in the hallway about to knock on Melanie’s office door.
“Jacob.” Melanie glanced at Ronni, back to him. “What in the world are you doing here? Is everything all right at the farm?”
Surprise at Ronni’s presence showed on his face, but he quickly shut it down. “We need to talk.”
Grim. Demanding. So opposite of the upbeat, outgoing Melanie. Once more, Ronni had a hard time envisioning the two of them together.
Opposites attract?
“Come right in.” Melanie ushered him forward, the smile on her face forced.
They disappeared into her office, Jacob slamming the door behind them. Ronni took two quiet steps up to the door and laid her ear against it. The two spoke in hushed, urgent tones.
“What is she doing here?” Jacob.
“She had a problem with her hair.” Melanie, defensive and annoyed. “I brought her here so Anita could work on it. Why?”
“We need to keep a closer eye on her. I caught her friend snooping around.”
Ronni’s pulse jumped.
“Don’t be silly. Thomas is a dear. He’s just curious. You were curious, too, when you first joined us.”
“I don’t trust him. Or Adam’s sister.”
Makes two of us, buddy. I don’t trust you either.
“Is Adam concerned?”
A heavy sigh from Jacob. “I don’t know. He won’t talk to me.”
“He has a lot on his mind right now. We all do.”
“He’s starting down that road again.”
Melanie clucked under her breath. “It’s too soon. He never has episodes so close together. Must be the stress of having Roanna here. And Kristine’s pregnancy on top of it all.”