Carrie Weaver - Count on a Cop

by Secrets in Texas

  “I’m really very busy, Matthew. It’s important to me to contribute to the household and make a comfortable home for you,” Angel said. “Besides, Jonathon’s other wives might stop by.”

  He grasped her hand. “I appreciate your efforts, my bride. But I’m sure you can be spared for an hour. I’d like you to take your lunch with me, then walk about the compound a bit.”

  Her interest sparked. An opportunity to scope out the place at last. How in the world had he arranged it with Jonathon?

  “Angel’s right, Matthew. She’s needed here. It’s not seemly for her to be gallivanting during the middle of the day.”

  “I’m her husband, Aunt, how could it not be seemly?”

  “People will talk about…unnatural appetites.” Eleanor’s cheeks grew pink.

  “Eleanor, my only appetite is to share lunch and a walk with my wife. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”

  “If Jonathon approves—”

  “Jonathon will approve. I intend to speak to him this morning.” There was a dangerous glint in Matthew’s eye.

  Angel got a kick out of seeing him stand up to Eleanor—and, in essence, Jonathon. She only hoped he knew what he was doing. From bits and pieces she’d read, people who openly opposed Jonathon in matters great or small ended up leaving Zion’s Gate.

  “I’ll look forward to it.” Angel gently disengaged her hand. “Now you don’t want to be late for the elders’ meeting. You know how your uncle values punctuality.”

  “Yes, I do.” Matthew stood, reaching for his plate.

  “I’ll get that. Go to your meeting.”

  He shrugged and left, whistling a tune as he went.

  Angel suspected it had been very difficult for him to acquiesce to his uncle up till now. He was a born leader.

  Tilting her head, she wondered if Matthew realized his innate leadership abilities made him a much better choice to take Jonathon’s place than Raphael.

  “Quit your daydreaming.” Eleanor’s tone was tart, but there was a twinkle in her eyes.

  “I wasn’t, um…I mean…” Angel’s cheeks grew warm. Had she been daydreaming about Matthew? A disturbing thought. Almost as disturbing as blushing for the first time in over ten years. She would have to be very, very careful where Matthew Stone was concerned. Because she was vulnerable now that he knew about her past. And she certainly couldn’t afford to make another disastrous error in judgment.

  Ruth sidled into the room, interrupting Angel’s thoughts. “Eleanor, several of the children seem to have had a stomach ailment. Perhaps Sister Angel can help laundering the bed linens.”

  “No, Ruth, I’ll need Angel’s help with the baking this morning. I’m confident you can handle it.”

  Ruth glared at Angel from beneath her lashes. In Eleanorland, Angel’s status had just risen a notch. And Ruth’s had fallen.

  The rest of the morning was spent cleaning breakfast dishes and baking loaves of bread. Humming under her breath, Angel was surprised to find she’d overcome her earlier biscuit disaster and enjoyed baking. She enjoyed Eleanor’s company, too. Who’d have thought?

  Someone stepped up behind her. Angel instinctively started to jab with her elbow, prepared to fight off the unexpected attack.

  A subtle, familiar male scent signaled her brain to stop the blow before it landed in Matthew’s ribs.

  He wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck. “Mmm. Smells delicious in here.”

  His breath tickled the fine hairs at her nape. She couldn’t help but giggle.

  Oh, Lord, she’d blushed and giggled all in the same morning. Hell must be freezing over.

  Angel turned and swatted at Matthew. “I’m trying to work.”

  Eleanor bustled over and placed a towel over the dough Angel had pummeled into submission. “I’ll take care of this after it rises. The weather’s perfect. You go and have a picnic lunch with Matthew. Take a few of those sandwiches and some fruit.”

  Matthew went over and hugged Eleanor, then turned her loose. “You’re the best. I’ll grab sodas from the fridge.”

  Angel wrapped the sandwiches in wax paper, selected two ripe red apples and tucked them in a canvas tote. Her anticipation rose as she joined Matthew at the door. Funny how such a simple outing could elicit excitement. Her perspective had changed in the ten days she’d been at Zion’s Gate. An opportunity to explore outside and simply relax with Matthew was to be treasured.

  As she turned to close the door behind her, Angel was surprised to see Ruth standing in the kitchen, watching, her eyes flashing with anger.

  She ignored the girl’s pique and resolved to soak up the fresh air and sunshine. It was a treat she’d sorely missed.

  Matthew commented, “There’s a grassy area between this group of houses and the next. We’ll spread a blanket under the tree.”

  “Sounds lovely.”

  Matthew grasped her hand, swinging his arm as they walked. “Yes, it does.”

  “I’m not sure if this is a good idea.” She glanced down at their clasped hands.

  “We’re married. No harm, no foul.”

  “I haven’t seen a couple hold hands or kiss since we’ve been here.”

  He shrugged. “I have only one wife. I can show affection without worrying about how it will affect my other wives.”

  “I never thought of it that way. I bet they have some hellacious catfights. Poor women, it can’t be easy living so closely with rivals.”

  “Every once in a while there’s a tiff. From what I remember, it’s all on the sly. Heavy undercurrents of competition. And a lot of crying behind closed doors.”

  “I can imagine.”

  They walked along in companionable silence. The day was mild, the air heavy with the scent of desert blossoms.

  “It’s beautiful here, in a stark way,” she observed.

  “Yes, imagine what it would be like if water were plentiful. As it is, Jonathon is concerned about running low. This patch of grass will be dead soon. No lawns, no ornamental planting allowed. Only vegetable gardens and fruit trees.”

  “I’d like to see the gardens.” Angel raised her face to the sun for a moment. The warmth lifted her spirits. “Maybe even work there. But Eleanor says not until I’m fully acclimated, whatever that means. It gets boring being shut in Eleanor’s house all day.”

  “It means they don’t totally trust you yet. Me, either. I figured we should get this little ritual started to stave off boredom and see a little of the layout. The fresh air’s good for us and it will give us an opportunity to share information without the fear of being overheard. Besides, it probably makes your superiors less nervous if you’re regularly observed alive and well.”

  “Good point. It’s so desolate out here they wouldn’t get close to the compound. Satellite photos are the best they can do most of the time.” She tried not to think about how vulnerable she and Matthew were, with no backup if things went wrong. At least with undercover gang work, Angel knew help wasn’t far away.

  Matthew nodded toward the lone spindly tree. They walked across the gravel path and spread a blanket beneath the tree. “Let’s hope the satellite passes over at lunchtime. I’d hate for the authorities to think they have to come in and rescue us.”

  Angel smothered a disbelieving chuckle. “They made it pretty clear I’m on my own. If things go wrong, they’ll deny knowledge of me. Fortunately Jonathon’s men didn’t find the pocket PC I tucked away with a supply of feminine products. I’ll need wireless access, though.”

  Matthew allowed his mind to skip right past her rather ingenious way of hiding the pocket PC. “I was hoping you had some way to communicate with the outside world. I meant to ask the other night but got sidetracked.” By the sight of her naked body in the bathtub.

  He swallowed hard. No need to go there.

  Angel didn’t seem to notice his preoccupation. She eyed the cluster of homes near the small park. “I’d love to walk the perimeter. Get an overview of the layout.”

/>   “Me, too. But we better start out small so we don’t arouse suspicion. Besides, you might get a chance to explore when the elders go into town.”

  “They don’t do that often, do they?”

  “No. But Uncle Jonathon announced this morning they’ll be making a trip into town soon to sell some of our extra produce at the farmer’s market. I’m hoping they’ll include me. Maybe I can slip away and send an e-mail for you.”

  Angel nodded. “Interesting that they sell produce. With the heavy emphasis on preparing for hard times, you’d think they’d can or preserve most of the fruits and vegetables. I wonder if maybe it’s a cover for something else?”

  “I get the impression Jonathon thinks cold, hard cash is just as important in preparing for hard times. Only one way to find out if something’s going on. I’ll help unload the produce if possible, see if there’s more involved.” Matthew sat on the blanket cross-legged, gesturing for her to join him. “Will you let me take your PC with me?”

  Angel sat next to him, removing the food from the canvas bag as a way to stall. He was asking her to trust him with her only contact to the outside world.

  She handed Matthew a sandwich. His gaze was steady. He seemed to have trustworthy written all over him. Maybe a little too good to be true.

  Angel shook off her doubt. She’d learned a lot about detecting character in the past nine years. Wasn’t it time she listened to her instincts? “I guess that’s okay. I’ll make sure to charge it tonight.”

  He smiled, warm, sincere, as if he understood how great an honor she’d bestowed. “I’ll take good care of it.”

  “I expect you to.” Please, please don’t disappoint me, Matt. “If you break it, I’ll have to break body parts.”

  “I’ll guard it with my life.”

  Uneasiness skittered along her nerve endings. In her line of work, statements like that were best avoided.

  Angel changed the subject. “I’m curious—what do you guys talk about in the elders’ meetings?”

  “Finances, opportunities to make more money for the group. Reports of persecution, the latest on Warren Jeffs and his sect, speculation on whether the threat might spread to Zion’s Gate.”

  “Are you getting any indication of gun or drug trafficking?”

  Shaking his head, Matthew said, “I’ve barely scratched the surface. My uncle is a very cautious man. I’m sure he doesn’t trust me yet. The elders pretty much parrot back the party line, but I sense undercurrents. Not all of them are happy with the way Jonathon’s running things.”

  “I feel like I should be doing something besides baking bread and cleaning house.” She bit into her sandwich, thinking while she chewed. Swallowing, she said, “I’m not sure if waiting till the elders go to town is necessary. I could slip out at night and do a little scouting. Maybe when we’re supposed to be deep in Bible study.”

  “I’m getting restless, too, but I don’t want Jonathon to have reason to mistrust us. We’re better off biding our time.”

  “I don’t do well with that biding-time stuff.”

  Matthew smiled. “That doesn’t surprise me. But I know you don’t want to endanger the mission. It’s very important we find out if they have substantial weapons on hand. The trip to town could be the key.”

  “What’s the mood of those meetings like?”

  “Jonathon keeps everybody on their toes. He’s prophesying a lot about the end-times, and that worries me. He may have crossed the line into paranoia.”

  Angel sipped her soda. “But then again, he allowed us here. Maybe he’s not so paranoid after all.”

  “Or maybe it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, no pun intended.”

  “How so?”

  Matthew leaned close, his voice low. “He imagines the government is out to get him. So he fortifies the place and anticipates the worst. The authorities see a situation with volatile possibilities and decide to keep an eye on him. He senses he’s gained government attention and gets more paranoid. And the cycle gets more intense.”

  “To be honest, if Jonathon has done the things our informants say he’s done, I won’t feel bad if he gets caught in a crossfire.” Angel reduced her voice to a tense whisper though there was no one in sight. “Our sources say Jonathon has been offering underage girls to his cronies and saying it’s okay because they’re ‘married.’ And turning a blind eye to emotional, physical and sexual abuse. If a few of Jonathon’s buddies go down along with him, all the better. But what about the women? They’re innocent in this as far as we know. And the children never asked to be born into a rigid patriarchal cult.”

  Matthew rubbed her hand where she had a white-knuckle grip on her paper napkin. “Well said,” he murmured.

  She glanced away. “I guess I got carried away.”

  “No need to apologize. I agree with you, by the way.” His gaze was direct.

  “Is it hard to hear me talk about your relatives that way?”

  “There are some I’ll never forgive for what they did to my family. But I try hard not to paint everyone with the same brush. You seem to try to stay objective, too. You remind me of my sister. I think you’ll like Rebecca.”

  “It’s hard to be objective about family.” Hadn’t her parents convinced themselves she was having a wonderful new life in Fort Worth with Kent, when she’d actually been held captive? Was that what Matthew feared was happening with Rebecca? If the thought hadn’t occurred to him, she didn’t want to be the one to suggest it. Instead she asked an open-ended question. “Did you ask Jonathon about her?”

  “Yes. He said she wasn’t feeling well enough to attend church. I didn’t tell him you thought she was there.”

  “What kind of illness is she supposed to have?”

  “Female problems.”

  Angel snorted. “An ambiguous answer certain to make most men immediately back off.”

  “Yes, that’s what I thought. I did back off, but not because I was embarrassed. Because I don’t want Jonathon to know how much I want to see her.”

  “You have more patience than I do, Matt. Of course, my performance reviews always mention my impulsiveness. Apparently the powers that be think it’s a liability in an officer.”

  “No comment.”

  “You think I’m impulsive?”

  “Sometimes. It’s kind of cute.”

  She sputtered and coughed. “Cute? I’ve worked hard for nine years to erase any trace of cuteness, and here you’re telling me I’ve failed miserably.”

  “No, I wouldn’t call you a failure. I’d call you a survivor. And that trumps cuteness any day.”

  She might have thought he was teasing her, except his eyes were dark and unreadable. She shook her head, trying not to take pleasure in his assessment of her. She couldn’t get drawn into caring what he thought of her.

  “Eat your sandwich, Matt, and keep your observations to yourself. It doesn’t matter whether I’m cute or a survivor. It matters that I do my job and do it well.”

  “Of course.” Matthew’s solemn reply did nothing to allay her misgivings. The man would do whatever he pleased and she knew it.

  At least they had that much in common.

  CHAPTER TEN

  A FEW EVENINGS LATER, Jonathon leaned back in his chair at the supper table and sighed. “Exceptional meal, Eleanor.”

  Eleanor nodded in acknowledgment. Though her expression remained impassive, Angel detected a spark of pleasure in the woman’s eye. “I’ve made your favorite lemon pie, too.”

  “How delightful.”

  After seeing the man only occasionally over the past two weeks, Angel still wished Jonathon would quit with the beatific-saint act. It didn’t suit him. And was about as believable as Angel pretending to be a debutante, though her parents did belong to a country club.

  “I made the biscuits, Brother Jonathon.” Ruth glanced up at him from beneath her lashes, her mouth curved in a sweet smile.

  Angel wondered if Ruth was angling to become a permanent fixture at Eleanor�
�s house—as a new sister wife for the woman. Maybe Matthew was the girl’s second choice? After all, a woman’s rank at Zion’s Gate depended heavily on her husband’s rank. And beneath Ruth’s simpering, Angel detected a calculating mind.

  Jonathon’s smile was benevolent. “Yes, Ruth, you’ll be a jewel in some lucky man’s heavenly crown some day.”

  “If the Lord wishes it.” The girl’s voice could have melted butter.

  “Ruth, why don’t you come with me and help serve pie.” Eleanor’s tone was terse. It wasn’t a question. “Angel, we’ll need your assistance, too.”

  Angel followed them into the kitchen. Eleanor slammed the refrigerator door after removing the pies. She retrieved dessert plates from the kitchen hutch and shoved them at Ruth. “Take these and distribute them.”

  The younger woman had no choice but to accept. Her pretty little mouth turned down at the corners.

  The temperature in the kitchen was decidedly cool. And dropping by the second.

  “Go,” Eleanor commanded.

  Ruth raised her chin, apparently thinking of rebelling.

  Angel hoped she did. The ensuing verbal thrashing would be worth witnessing.

  Ruth seemed to have ideas along the same line, because she lowered her chin and murmured, “Yes, Eleanor.”

  Darn. Angel had been ready to witness a catfight.

  After Ruth left the room, she said, “You could have taken her, Eleanor. With one hand tied behind your back.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Sure you do. And she would have had it coming. I don’t know why it doesn’t happen more often.”

  Eleanor held her head high. “There are challenges to living the principle at times. Our goal is to live in harmony. I didn’t do well with that tonight.”

  “So you’ll accept Ruth as a sister wife if Jonathon suggests it?”

  “You ask too many questions, Angel. It is not seemly.” She glanced meaningfully toward the kitchen door. “Mind your manners.”

  The boss was home. Everyone on their best behavior. The rest of the time, Eleanor was boss. Angel wondered if it was hard for the older woman to adjust to having her husband home.