White Heat (23 page)

She came out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel. She was walking to her bedroom to dress but paused to frown at him. “No, I don't.”

Desire coiled in his groin as he studied the cleavage showing above the knot in her towel. One tug and that towel would be on the floor…. “You're sure?”

“No question.”

She started for the bedroom again, but he caught her and pressed her against the wall with a hand on either side of her head. “You said you loved me, Rachel.” The reminder made her flush a bright red, almost as red as when they were running earlier, but he didn't care. He needed to be clear.

“I didn't know you well enough to make that decision,” she said with a scowl.

“And now you do.”

“Now I do.”

“Then I could take you to bed and it wouldn't be any big deal.”

“I wouldn't go to bed with you. I've told you that already.”

“I don't believe you.”

“Because you're a cocky son of a bitch.” She was suddenly angry, frustrated.

He knew the feeling. “Here's your chance to prove me wrong.” When he tugged on her towel, she didn't stop him. She let it fall, and that was when his anger and frustration coalesced into a desire more powerful than he'd ever felt before.

“Wow,” he murmured.

There was a stubborn resistance in the tilt of her chin but he chose to ignore it. Bending his head, he took one perfect nipple into his mouth.

Gasping, she writhed beneath him, but she didn't push him away. By the time he looked up, her eyes were closed, her lips were parted and her body quivered whenever he touched it. He should stop. He was making another mistake. Everything inside him screamed that he was taking this too far. But he couldn't seem to pull his hands or his mouth away. He'd been craving this, craving her, for too long.

“I hate you,” she murmured as his lips moved up her throat and his hands slid over the contours of her body.

“I don't blame you.” He found her mouth, kissed her deeply. He wanted her to pull at his clothes, help him remove them. He could feel the tension inside her, but she refused to act on it. She refused to be the aggressor in any way. That would've told him something, had he been thinking. But he'd quit thinking the minute he'd seen her in that towel. The only thing going through his mind right now was the acute pleasure it gave him just to touch her. And the fact that he had a condom in his wallet.

Sweeping her into his arms, he carried her into the bedroom, where he did everything he could to get her to the point they'd found so easily back in January. She responded but wouldn't fully engage, wouldn't let go
long enough to be able to enjoy their lovemaking to the same degree. And when it was over, she wouldn't touch him as a lover might, wouldn't curl into him so they could sleep, didn't have anything to say.

“You okay?” he asked, suddenly unsure of the logic that had brought him here.

“I'm fine.” She sounded indifferent and, as soon as he slid off, she got up.

“Rachel?”

She stepped into a pair of lacy panties. “What?”

He'd gotten what he wanted, and yet he wasn't satisfied. Something was missing, and it gnawed at him. “I'm sorry if I…I mean, I feel like maybe…I owe you an apology.” Had he misread the signs? He was pretty sure she'd wanted to be with him when they started. She certainly hadn't said no or tried to stop him, and yet…he was afraid he'd crossed a line he shouldn't have.

“You don't owe me anything,” she said. “It was nothing, right?”

“So you're okay with what happened?”

“Of course. Now we're even.”

Leery, he got out of bed. “Even in what way?”

She kept dressing, didn't deign to glance at him. “You gave me what I wanted in January. And I gave you what you wanted just now. Like I said, we're even.”

“That's all there is to it?”

Her wedding ring flashed as she pulled on a T-shirt. “That's all there is to it,” she said. Then she walked into the living room, where he could hear her taking the cans to the truck.

W
hile Sarah polished silver in the large conference room that doubled as a dining hall, Ethan met with various committee chairmen in charge of new construction. Bart was with him. Whenever Ethan was alone, they talked about some computer; it sounded as if they'd lost the password. She didn't know what that meant but they were both acting…odd. Almost…intimate in a way she'd never witnessed before.

Bart was gaining too much power, Sarah decided. And that worried her. She didn't care for Bart. Unlike Ethan, he had no passion for life, for God, for people. As much as she would've liked to feel a certain kinship with him—he, too, had a very obvious physical defect—he seemed devoid of the more tender emotions. He had a job to do and he did it well. She couldn't picture Ethan without him. But why was he inside today? He had his own office not far from the front gate.

She blinked as she realized Bart was staring back at her and bowed her head over her work. She'd heard him mention Martha's name, so she knew at least some of his business had to do with her old friend. Was Martha causing trouble on the outside? If so, it was probably because she was trying to get James back. Any mother
would want her child, wouldn't she? Sarah had often wondered how Martha was coping without her family.

She didn't have to look up to know that the footsteps drawing close belonged to Bart.

“Sister Sarah.”

Swallowing hard, she kept polishing. “Yes?”

“You were talking with one of our visitors last night, were you not?”

“Yes.”

“What were you saying?”

“I was doing my best to testify of Christ and His Word.”

Placing a finger alongside his nose, he propped up his elbow with the other hand. “And was she receptive to the Word?”

Sarah remembered Rachel's uncomfortable questions but focused instead on her statement that she, too, wanted to live a better life. “She said she was.”

“Did she ask about Courtney?”

“No.”

“What about Martha?”

Sarah felt caught. She couldn't lie to the Lord's anointed. Not again. She'd already lied to Bart when she pretended not to know about the unflattering statements Courtney had made before she left. Sarah had read her scriptures for an hour a day ever since, hoping to make amends for that sin.
By me or my servants, it is the same.
Bart wasn't Ethan, but he was anointed as a Spiritual Guide.

“I asked you a question,” he said when she didn't reply.

“No, Brother.” Sarah winced at her reflection in the silver. Another lie. Was she making herself as ugly in
side as she was out? Possibly. But she was fairly sure she'd feel worse if Bart got angry at Rachel because of what
she
said, although she had no idea why that might be true. Rachel was an outsider. It was Rachel she shouldn't trust.

“What did she say?”

Sarah couldn't tell if he believed her or not. “She said she could feel the spirit of the Lord at the Introduction.”

“She did.”

“Yes.”

“It was there in abundance.” He started to walk away, but turned back unexpectedly. “Have you heard the good news?”

“Good news?” Aha! Something
had
changed. She'd sensed it.

“We're planning to announce this in the general assembly tonight, but I think I can trust you to keep it secret until then.”

She was surprised he was even tempted to confide in her. Unless she approached him, he usually ignored her. Some of the other Guides pressured her to take the Covenant—and to show it with the brand—but Bartholomew had never mentioned it to her. Still, she wanted to comply, to display proof of her faith as others had, but every time she planned to go through with it, she backed out at the last minute.
Do you swear absolute allegiance to the Church of the Covenant and to Ethan, as the Lord's anointed, so help you God?
She couldn't make a commitment to what they asked, not unless she was completely sure it was right. She'd always reserved that loyalty for Christ alone. “I won't breathe a word.” Keeping her mouth shut was never a problem for her.

“Last night the Holy One had a vision.”

“He did?”

“Yes.”

“And…were you there?” He acted as if he was, but she couldn't imagine anything that sacred coming to the prophet when he had others around him.

Bart thought for a moment, then nodded. “Actually, I was.”

“Is it about the Vessel?”

“It is.”

Sarah felt her stomach tense. They'd been waiting for Ethan to name the Vessel for three years, ever since it was revealed to him that he was to select a very special woman to deliver him a son. Was Bart giving her advance warning because—she covered her heart with her hand and lifted her gaze to meet his—
she
was the one? She'd secretly been praying for such a privilege, but after helping Martha escape and now lying for Rachel who was a stranger, she doubted she was worthy. Besides, she hadn't taken the Covenant of Brotherly Love and she expected him to choose from the women who had.

“The time has come,” she breathed.

“Yes.”

She licked dried lips. “Who is it?”

His good eye seemed to look right through her while the other one drifted off. “The guest we were just discussing.”

“Rachel Mott?”
Although Ethan had told them it could be anyone, this came as a shock.

“Why not?”

“She—she's married,” Rachel stammered.

“That shows God's wisdom. Ethan is so busy with
the church he can't be expected to fulfill the role of father. This way, the Vessel will have a partner to help her raise the child.”

“But Rachel's not even a member. She's from the devil's flock.”

Guilt overwhelmed her the moment those jealous words escaped. Maybe Rachel lived in the outside world because she didn't know any better, because she hadn't had the opportunity to receive the Lord's gospel in its fullness. Who was she to judge?

“Not for long,” he said. “She will soon become a convert. And that will make her our equal, will it not? We are
all
converts in one way or another.”

“Yes, Brother.”

“You're excited, then?”

Tears she didn't understand and couldn't explain welled up, but she blinked them away. How could she expect to be named anything special? Maybe she was a member, but she was a doubting Thomas. “Yes.”

“Bart? Shall we have lunch?” Ethan stood at the entry to the much smaller dining area he used when he wasn't entertaining guests.

“Coming,” Bart said but didn't move.

“Is something wrong, Brother Bart?” Sarah asked.

“You were friends with Martha Wilson, were you not?”

The horror of the stoning rose in her mind. “Yes.”

“And you like her a great deal.”

“Yes.” She hoped she didn't sound as frightened as she felt. She knew it wouldn't go well with her if Bart discovered that she was the one who'd helped Martha escape. Especially if Martha was causing problems on the outside.

“You don't know how she managed to get away that night, do you?”

She went back to polishing. “No.”

“What did you say?”

She cleared her throat. “No.”

“You didn't see anyone help her?”

Sarah thought her heart might knock a hole in her chest. “No.”

Kneeling beside her, he took her hands. “You're aware of the penalty for rebelling against God, aren't you?”

She was. But she kept finding herself in the same quandary. Was a sin against Ethan a sin against God? Or would God want her to help her friend? “Of course.”

“You've made Paradise your home.”

“Yes.”

“You wouldn't want to lose what you have here.”

“No.”

“So you'd tell me if you knew anything about Martha, how she got away, where she might've gone, if she's tried to make contact with you since?”

“I haven't heard from her.” At least that much was true. Sarah was glad Martha hadn't tried to contact her. She was frightened enough about what she'd done. She didn't want to carry on a secret relationship with a fallen angel, a captive of the devil.

“Bart?” Ethan was growing impatient. “Can't you deal with this later? She's not going anywhere.”

“One second.” He clamped a hand on her shoulder. “I need to take you on a little errand,” he told her.

“An errand?” she repeated.

“As soon as I finish lunch, we'll go to Willcox. If
you need to do anything to prepare, I suggest you handle it now.”

“What's in—” she swallowed to keep her voice from shaking “—Willcox?”

“Martha, of course.”

Now Sarah
knew
she was in trouble. “I—I'm not supposed to leave the compound. I've sworn never to do so.”

“It's fine if you have the blessing of one of the Guides. I give you that blessing. And you have Ethan's blessing, as well.”

Ethan seemed to be watching them with interest. Self-conscious under his perusal, she twisted the rag she'd been using. “But I—I don't want to leave. Why would I? Martha's been shunned. I want no part of her.”

“We need to find her.”

“I would help you if I could.” She cringed at yet another lie. “But I have no idea where she might be.”

“Maybe not. But it's your job to help us reclaim her, since you're the one who let her escape.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

“Well?” he asked calmly. “What do you have to say? Will you make amends to those you have wronged?”

Swallowing hard, she managed a nod. He didn't seem angry, but his calm, calculated reaction frightened her more….

“Restitution is a necessary part of repentance. You believe that, don't you?”

Sarah couldn't bear his disapproval. It scorched her like the hot sun beating on the desert soil. “Yes, Brother.”

“What did you say?” he prompted at her soft reply.

She spoke up. “Yes, Brother Bart.”

“Good. Do not worry. God is a god of mercy,” he said. Then he released her and hurried over to Ethan.

 

The dirty dishes were still there, with the dried-on food. The cigarette smoke that had clouded Martha Wilson's apartment still hung thick in the air. But she was gone.

Nate stood in her kitchen and frowned at the mess. He'd never considered himself compulsively neat, but it was all he could do to stop himself from bagging the garbage spilling out of the trash can. It wasn't healthy to live in these conditions. He might've hauled it outside, except it would no doubt frighten her to come home and find it gone.

“Where do you think she is?” Rachel called from the living room.

It was a simple question, nothing personal, but he was just glad she was speaking to him. She'd said hardly anything all day. After they'd made love, she'd eaten with him at the café, spoken to Thelma about their visits to Paradise and gone back to the trailer, where she'd insisted on bathing again. He'd gotten the impression she wanted to wash away every trace of what had happened between them earlier, which should've encouraged him. He didn't want that encounter to mean anything to her, right? So why did it leave him feeling so unhappy?

“I don't see her purse.” He'd looked for it first thing. “Maybe she went out to get some cigarettes.” Since there wasn't a pack lying around and he knew she couldn't survive an hour without smoking, a trip to the store sounded reasonable. “Or maybe she went to dinner. It's about that time.”

Rachel seemed hopeful when she came to the entrance to the kitchen. “Nothing looks disturbed—not as if someone
bothered
her here—so maybe you're right.”

“
Someone
meaning Ethan or one of the Covenanters?”

“I don't know anyone else who'd want to intrude.”

“Having Ethan on your ass is more than enough.” He followed when she disappeared from view and watched as she rummaged through the first closet she came across. “What are you hoping to find?”

“Notes. Letters. A journal. She's been spending a lot of time here. Maybe she decided to put down her feelings about Paradise. If so, it might tell us more about Todd, Joshua, Ethan, Bart, Sarah. Who knows?”

“Good point.”

She didn't raise her head. Was she mad at him? Part of him wished it could be as simple as “mad.”

Heading down the hall to the only bedroom, he poked his head in the bathroom, which was in even worse condition than the kitchen, and checked the cabinet. Nothing. When he reached the bedroom, he saw a black plastic garbage bag pushed under the bed. Once he'd pulled it out and started to dig through it, he realized it contained things Martha was hoping to keep, not things she intended to throw away. Mostly, it was filled with letters that had never been sent. There were also some legal papers regarding her custody suit and a commitment from an attorney, agreeing to work pro bono.

The address in that letter corresponded to their current location.

“You finally got a lucky break,” Nate muttered to Martha even though she wasn't there to hear him.

“Did you say something?” Rachel came up from behind.

“Her attorney—a Mr. J. H. Haddock—is providing the apartment. Or, at any rate, he's the one who made arrangements for her to stay here.”