Darcy closed her eyes and tried not to let the grief that hovered on the edges of her sanity creep in. She couldn’t lose focus. Any semblance of a normal life had shattered when Louise had dropped her bombshell. And, if the truth were known, chasing after answers kept her from acknowledging her bone-deep grief over Louise’s death. It was too soon, too quick. They’d had no time to prepare. The cancer had moved in quickly, without mercy. Before they’d known it, Louise had been given a death sentence. In spite of her closed eyes, a trail of moisture leaked from them, and she wiped it away on her sleeve.
“Are you okay, honey?” the woman next to her asked, a kind expression on her middle-aged face. “I have some tissues if you need some.”
Darcy smiled at the kindness. “Thank you. I’m all right. I’m just tired. Stuff’s getting to me, I guess.”
“Might help if you talk about it. I’m a good listener.”
Darcy withheld a sigh. It was a nice offer, but it wasn’t as if she could actually share what was going on in her life. She smiled briefly to let the woman know the offer was appreciated but gave a little shake of her head, murmuring her decline.
The woman nodded and let her be. Darcy was thankful for the window seat. At least she could watch the states go by in shades of green, gold and blue as she flew from her cozy world, where everything had once made sense, to her new existence, where danger lurked side by side by the secrets she felt compelled to uncover.
Likely, it was stupid—reckless even—and the very thing Louise had cautioned her against.
But she couldn’t stop herself. Maybe there was a slim chance that Catherine was still alive and Darcy could help her.
Then again, maybe Catherine was dead, and Darcy was heading straight into the arms of the man who’d snuffed out her life.
It was a cruel coin flip of possibility.
But she wasn’t turning back. Hell no, she wasn’t turning back.
CHAPTER 3
Rafe’s smile faded as soon as his last patient walked out the door and climbed into his car, his attention riveted to the man waiting patiently, a seemingly placid expression on his otherwise rugged face.
Rafe locked the door and flipped the sign that said his little practice was closed for the evening, and any emergencies should be directed to the urgent-care clinic. “Any news?” he asked, but by the grim tensing of the man’s mouth, Rafe had his answer. “He’s here. I know it. That sonofabitch has my son somewhere in this little creepshow of a town, and it’s killing me that I’ve been unable to find out where.”
“Keep your voice down,” Hawk Bledsoe, an FBI agent who’d grown up in Cold Plains before it became the stomping ground of Samuel Grayson, the man Rafe was sure had Devin hidden somewhere, warned. “You know it’s not safe to go running your mouth without consequence. I came to tell you there’s someone new in town, and I think as soon as Grayson takes a look at her, he’s going to be on her like stink on crap to recruit her as one of his breeders.”
Rafe grimaced at the crude term that had sprung up at the realization that Grayson fancied himself a matchmaker of sorts and always sought out the best-looking candidates to match up in the hopes that their progeny was equally perfect aesthetically.
“Not my problem,” Rafe said, hating himself for being such a cold bastard, but if he worried about every single person who stumbled into Grayson’s clutches, he’d go insane. He was here for one reason: to find Devin and then get the hell out.
But in the meantime, he had to play the game. He’d shown up in Cold Plains three months ago, pretending to want to relocate to the picturesque town, even going so far as to appear interested in the ridiculous garbage Grayson preached every day in his seminars—all in the name of finding his son.
It hadn’t been as easy as he’d thought when he first started. He figured someone was bound to talk eventually, but Grayson ruled with an iron fist and fear rode shotgun with these people. So far, he’d gotten nowhere. When he discovered that Bledsoe was an undercover FBI agent, he’d been relieved to find someone who wasn’t drinking the crazy juice, but thus far, even Bledsoe had come up empty.
“She’s young and she needs a job,” Bledsoe continued as if Rafe hadn’t spoken. “Don’t you need a receptionist to handle your phones?”
“I hadn’t planned on staying this long,” Rafe grumbled, not exactly answering but not denying it, either. True, he was running himself a bit ragged trying to keep his office as self-sufficient as possible, not because he was a control freak, but rather, he needed to be able to trust the people he worked with, and frankly, trust was in short supply in this town.
“How do we even know she’s not a Devotee?” Rafe asked, referencing the people who followed Samuel Grayson, marching along like good soldiers in Grayson’s utopian army.
“We don’t. But this could be a good way to gain some additional insight if she is. If she’s not, think of it as good karma points.”
Rafe looked away, caught between his urge to protect an innocent person and keep a healthy distance away from anything that might distract him from finding Devin. “How do you know she needs a job?”
“She arrived yesterday. She’s staying at the hotel and I heard through the grapevine that she’s asking around to see if anyone’s hiring. I’ll make it known to her that you’re looking for a receptionist. Do me a favor and hire her. Do yourself a favor and hire her. You’re looking a little frayed around the edges, and you need to stay sharp in this shark tank or you’ll get eaten.”
Rafe nodded wearily and rubbed at his eyes. “Right. So, still nothing out there about Devin?”
“Not a word. But someone knows something. They’re just scared to talk. We’ll find him,” Bledsoe assured him, and Rafe tried to take comfort in the fact that he wasn’t searching alone, but he was no closer to the truth than he was when he’d stepped foot in this town.
Sure, on the surface, Cold Plains looked like a dream come true, the perfect place to settle down and raise kids, but if you scratched the surface of that perfect veneer, a whole lot of what-the?-Oh-my-God appeared like dirty bubbles in a stagnant pond.
“Maybe we ought to call in reinforcements, you know? Tell the feds what you know so far… Maybe it’s enough for an indictment.”
Bledsoe shook his head, the motion definitive. “No. We’ve got smoke and mirrors when it comes to Grayson. He’s popped out of worse, smelling like a rose. He lets others take the fall and then walks away. If we go off half-cocked out of fear and desperation, it’ll end badly for everyone. And trust me, the man is not only slippery but dangerous. It wouldn’t surprise me if he were to pull the plug on everyone, going down in grand, Waco, Texas, style. We don’t want to add to the body count. Stay the course. We’ll get him. But in the meantime, just chill and keep doing what you’re doing. Grayson likes you. He thinks you’re getting ready to pledge. That’s good. His guard will be down. Eventually something will slip. That’s when we’ll find what we’re looking for—evidence to take him down—and your son.”
Rafe swallowed his emotions. His son. Was he even still alive? Every child he saw on the street that was the same age as his son at this point made him do a double take and wonder. He didn’t put it past Grayson to have a child killed—the man had no soul—but Grayson did everything for a purpose. So if Devin was still alive, it was for a reason. And it might be desperate, wishful thinking, but he knew in his heart that Devin was alive somewhere—or maybe it was just that he had to believe that or go crazy.
* * *
Darcy had never seen a cleaner street. Usually even the nicest cities and towns had little bits of trash that the street sweeper missed, but not Cold Plains. The dark asphalt looked fresh, newly poured, and the crosswalk paint fairly gleamed. It was as if trash wasn’t allowed and anyone who had the audacity to carelessly litter was vigorously dealt with. Darcy shuddered at wha
t her imagination conjured. She’d done a fair amount of homework on Samuel Grayson and Cold Plains before she’d purchased her plane ticket, but there hadn’t been a whole lot out there. A Google search had pulled up some historic photos of the town when it was merely a spot in the road, a trading outpost really, and she’d managed to find a few street views from the Google maps, but the town had maintained a rural atmosphere. Certainly charming to the eye at first glance, she thought wistfully. Too bad there was something rotten in Denmark. She adjusted her purse, where her mother’s picture lay tucked in her wallet, and set out to wander around, looking every bit the happy-go-lucky tourist.
Somewhere, a deep resonant bonging startled her, and she realized the noise was coming from an impressive three-story building of marble and glass, directly ahead on the main street. A man must’ve noticed her shock and confusion, because he tapped her on the shoulder with a warm smile. “New to Cold Plains?” the man asked.
“Oh, uh, yes, actually. What’s going on?” She motioned to the people starting to file toward the building.
A smile wreathed the man’s face. “It’s time for the noon session. You’re in for a real treat. Do you believe in fate?”
No. Not really. “A little, I think,” she lied, curious to see where this fruitloop was headed. “Why?”
“Because fate brought you to Cold Plains. And now you’ll find out why. Come.” He held his hand out to her, and she wondered if this was how the victims of Jim Jones fell under his charm. All it took was one step…. Well, she was here for answers. She pasted a bright smile on her lips and accepted his hand. He grinned. “You won’t regret it. Samuel’s sessions are almost magical. So inspiring.”
Samuel Grayson… A dangerous chill touched her skin. Time to meet Daddy.
Darcy entered the community center and allowed her awe to show. “Wow, this is some fancy place for such a small town,” she said, taking in the huge fresh spray of flowers gracing the entry and the sweet fragrance they gave off. “Who pays for all this?” she wondered out loud.
“Needs are met as they are needed,” the man said by way of answer, which to Darcy’s mind wasn’t much of an answer at all. Maybe the man was a politician. He directed her to an empty seat. “Enjoy and be transformed.”
And then he melted into the crowd, which was okay by Darcy, because truthfully, the guy was creeping her out more than a little. Maybe it was because she wasn’t accustomed to such overt polite behavior from total strangers, or maybe she was just more of a city girl than a country girl and didn’t know how to react when someone wasn’t flipping her off or stealing her cab. Either way, she was happy to sit and simply observe unnoticed for the time being.
She scanned the crowd and immediately noted a striking commonality: it was the congregation of beautiful people.
Not a single unattractive person milled about. So much for diversity, she thought uneasily. It was probably an odd coincidence. How could a whole town be comprised of models?
She shifted in her seat and a man caught her eye. Of course, like everyone else in the building, he was attractive, but there was something else about him that drew her. Tall, with a lean but solid frame that filled his shirt nicely and narrowed to tight hips, he stood in the back, observing with an eye as keen as her own. An odd flutter tickled her stomach, and she quickly turned away for fear of being caught staring. Everyone in this place was cuckoo, she reminded herself. Even if they were hotter than hell.
A hush fell upon the crowd, and Darcy saw that a man had taken the stage. The man, mesmerizing with his midnight hair, which gleamed in the fluorescent light, flashed incredibly white teeth in a broad, magnanimous grin that immediately caused her to suck in a painfully tight breath. She was looking at her father. No matter that she’d come to find answers and she’d followed the trail to Cold Plains, a part of her had hoped that Louise had been wrong. That her adoptive mother’s bedside confession had simply been the unfortunate ramblings of a woman doped up on intense dosages of morphine and not that of a woman harboring a deadly secret. But there was no denying that the enigmatic man captivating the assembled crowd had contributed to her DNA. How did she know for sure? It wasn’t some New Agey feeling—no, it was much simpler than that.
She was his spitting image.
Suddenly, everything began to swim, and for the first time in her life, Darcy slid right out of her chair and onto the floor.
She’d fainted.
CHAPTER 4
Darcy slowly opened her eyes and focused on the blurry face full of concern and struggled to sit up.
“Hold on, you’ve fainted,” a voice, low and soft but distinctly masculine, said. The man smelled of cinnamon, and gave a gentle push on her shoulder to remain lying down. “Are you dizzy? Does your head hurt?”
She covered her eyes with her hand and bit her lip, more mortified than anything else. So much for blending in, stealthlike. Seemed her ninja skills weren’t up to par. Not that she’d ever had any.
“Miss?” the voice prompted, causing her to shake her head.
“I’m fine. Just embarrassed.” Against the man’s direction, she rolled to her side and sat up, realizing she was no longer in the community center. Gone were the marble-accented furniture and glossy floors, replaced with country kitsch and quaint down-home charm. “Um. Where am I?” She blinked away the fuzziness in her vision and choked back a gasp when she realized the man she’d seen earlier at the community center, the one whom she’d been compelled to stare at, was now staring at her with an air of concern and curiosity. “And…who are you?”
When he smiled, the corners of his mouth lifted but his eyes remained deadly serious, and Darcy found the contradiction unsettling, just like everything else in this place. Except, in spite of that, she couldn’t deny there was something about him that made her mouth dry and her thoughts wander.
“My name is Dr. Rafe Black. You passed out at the community center, and you were brought here. It’s closer than the urgent-care clinic,” he explained, then returned to his diagnostic mode by removing a penlight and shining it in her eyes. She batted it away on instinct. She’d only just recovered her sight, and now she had dots dancing before her eyes. He frowned. “I had to check for a concussion,” he said, pocketing the penlight. “And what is your name?”
“Darcy Craven. Nice to meet you. And I slid from my chair, not the roof,” she grumbled, highly embarrassed by the whole incident. “Really, I’m fine. Please don’t make a fuss. I was very accident-prone as a child, so this is nothing,” she said, trying to lighten things up. She didn’t like the way her stomach was still doing tiny flutters at being so close to the handsome doctor. There was far more at stake than finding a hot guy to date. Before Louise had gotten sick, Darcy had been a different kind of girl—out for the good time and the fun—but then everything had changed when Louise had needed her. Responsibility had been an uncomfortable fit at first, but she’d quickly adapted when she realized she was all Louise had in the world and vice versa. It’d made her grow up fast. She supposed a part of that irresponsible girl still lived and breathed, because otherwise, how else would she have had the wherewithal to embark on this dangerous quest? Be that as it may, it didn’t mean she had to follow every impulse, and that included allowing herself to be attracted to the handsome stranger, who, by the way, was still scrutinizing her every move with that serious stare.
“I’m fine. I promise,” she assured him, jumping down from the exam table and edging away. “So, I have insurance…. Do you need me to fill out some forms or something for you to bill for your time?”
He waved away her offer, his brows still knitted together. “No charge. But I still think you ought to take it easy. People don’t just faint for no reason, and it’s the reason I’m worried about. You could have something serious happening neurologically. Would you object to having some tests run?”
&n
bsp; Tests? That smacked of a bad idea. What if this was some ploy to get her DNA for some weird reason? She recognized the paranoia in her thought process, but she supposed that was unavoidable given the circumstances. “No thanks. Not big on tests. Ignorance is bliss sometimes,” she said. “So you’re the doctor here…the only doctor in the whole town?” she asked, switching subjects.
“No, I’m not the only one. There are a few at the urgent-care facility. However, I am the only one with a private practice on the main street. And how did you find yourself in Cold Plains?” he asked, moving away to fold his arms across his chest, the frowning easing into an expression of congenial friendliness. “Family from here?”
She startled but hid it well. It was a fair question, no need to read anything into it. “Nope, no family here. Just sounded like a great place. It’s been getting a fair amount of press lately with all its, uh, attributes of clean living.”
“Ah, yes, Cold Plains is a living example of how people can live in harmony,” Rafe said, smiling. “There’s been a few reporters who’ve picked up on Cold Plains’s charms. I think a few even relocated here after their stories ran. It’s a special place.”
“Yeah, I’m getting that,” she said, nodding. Was he a Grayson follower, too? She wasn’t sure. She had to assume he was or why else would he be here? Darcy forced a bright smile. “So, actually, you might be able to help me.”
“Oh? How’s that?”
“Know of anyone who’s hiring? I need a job.”
For a split second, she could’ve sworn a flash of recognition had passed over his expression, but it was gone in a heartbeat, causing her to wonder if she’d seen anything at all.
“What fortuitous timing,” he said. “I happen to be looking for a receptionist. How good are you at answering phones and taking appointments?” he asked.
Perfect Wyoming Complete Collection: Special Agent's Perfect Cover ; Rancher's Perfect Baby Rescue ; A Daughter's Perfect Secret ; Lawman's Perfect Surrender ; The Perfect Outsider ; Mercenary's Perfect Mission Page 36