Devoted to Love Read online

  “You’re saying he didn’t love you?”

  “Not even a little. I think he was too conflicted to love anyone, even himself.”

  “Why did you wait until the morning of the wedding to call it off?”

  “Of course Sawyer told you that, too,” she groaned. “In retrospect, Davis and I were playing an elaborate game of chicken. I flinched first. If it helps, he called me a few days later to thank me for having the courage to do what we both knew needed to be done. His grandparents hate me, but he’s relieved. And we’re both happier now.”

  Josiah scanned Maggie’s expression. Nothing but calm truth lay there. Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised by how forthcoming she’d been. She was merely sharing fact. And why wouldn’t she? She had no reason to lie to him.

  But her information changed a lot of things. Everything, really. Josiah couldn’t be angry with her anymore. Which led him right back to wanting her all over again.

  “Thanks for telling me.” He pressed a kiss to her soft lips, gratified when she closed her eyes and gave him a little sigh and a buss in return.

  “Sure. Thanks for making it not painful. I appreciate you not being totally judgey.”

  Actually, he had been, and Josiah wanted to kick his own ass. He shouldn’t have judged before he heard the whole story. But he’d let his own baggage—not his brain—form his opinion. “Want more egg whites?”

  “No. They’re all yours.” She hopped off his lap. “I really have to go help Granna with the cleanup after last night. Are you, um . . . heading back to Louisiana today?”

  “I’m going to talk to Enlightenment Fields first,” he hedged, knowing he should leave town before he dug himself deeper into her. “Then . . . we’ll see.”

  “Don’t leave without saying goodbye, huh?” At the prospect of his departure, she looked sad.

  “I won’t.”

  In fact, as much as Maggie intrigued him, Josiah wasn’t sure how he’d say goodbye at all.

  CHAPTER 5

  The farther Josiah’s truck rolled up the dusty lane toward Enlightenment Fields, the stronger his foreboding grew. When he reached the hodgepodge collection of wooden structures, he rolled to a stop behind a greenhouse. To his right stood a storage shed. Beside that sat a trio of well-used ATVs, some watchful muscle types sporting wicked ink and AR-15s, along with people carting forty-pound bags of soil on their shoulders. A few pregnant women milled around, passing out bottled water.

  Josiah put his truck in park and killed the engine. Every single person stopped and turned their attention his way. Their stares held wariness. Their expressions teemed with suspicion.

  He grabbed his phone from the console and texted Logan. If you don’t hear from me in fifteen minutes, I’m at Enlightenment Fields and I need help.

  What’s going on? Logan returned in seconds.

  Nothing. Yet. Came to chat. Stay tuned.

  10-4.

  Not that Logan could help from hundreds of miles away, but at least someone knew where he was. As a precautionary measure, it would have to do for now.

  Josiah exited the truck and pocketed his keys. All the hair on his body stood on end. Fuck, he shouldn’t have come alone. He knew from experience shit could go south fast.

  To his surprise, the person who came to greet him wasn’t a slab of beef carrying a semiautomatic rifle but a young woman in a white lacy dress splashed with pink flowers. “Hi, stranger. Are you lost? Or seeking your enlightened truth?”

  “Neither. I’d like to speak to Adam Coleman.”

  “He’s not available.” She cocked her head and gave him a smile. “Maybe I can help you. I’m Mercy.”

  When she held out her hand, Josiah gave it a quick shake.

  Mercy must turn male heads everywhere. Light honey-brown hair brushed her shoulders. Mossy green eyes sparkled. Her puffy lips beckoned a man to kiss her. And she had a mighty perky pair of tits. He pegged her somewhere around twenty-two, but she had a seemingly gentle quality and an unworldly air that begged corrupting. Until he looked into her eyes. The confidence in her stare told him she was used to men tripping all over themselves to talk to her and she fully expected them not to have a lot of control over their words once they started.

  “Nice to meet you. Josiah.”

  “Welcome. Lemonade?”

  She no more than said the word when one of the other women, this one barely beyond her teenage years and at least seven months pregnant, stepped forward with a cup filled with the sweet-tart liquid, condensation rolling down the plastic cup. She sent him a questioning glance but didn’t speak.

  “Thanks for your hospitality, but no. I’m only staying long enough to have a word with Mr. Coleman.”

  Mercy waved the woman away and pasted on a coy smile, then curled her fingers around his arm. “Unfortunately, he’s very busy with Enlightenment Fields business. I’m his daughter.” She smiled. “What do you need? I’m sure I can help. And you’ll find me far more agreeable to talk to.”

  Because she thought she could lead him around by the dick and play him?

  Josiah didn’t know whether she was bored, vain, or horny. He didn’t much care, either. On the other hand, something told him if he straight-up admitted why he’d come, this conversation could quickly become a confrontation. He was both outmanned and outgunned.

  “I’m new to town. I heard about y’all from some of the locals. Maybe you can tell me what you’re about?”

  A smile brightened her face as she tightened her grip on him. “Absolutely. My favorite thing to do. I’d be happy to give you a tour and tell you about our mission.” She pressed the side of her breast to his biceps. “Josiah.”

  He forced himself to smile down at her. This act must work on most guys. It set his teeth on edge. “Thanks, pretty lady.”

  “My pleasure.” She preened.

  Vain, it was. And maybe horny, too, since she refused to give him an inch of space.

  “Adam started Enlightenment Fields nearly fifteen years ago. Back then, he could envision the promised land of his dreams. He tried a few places but kept looking for the perfect utopia to gather the followers who shared his vision. So he set about to find it. You see, we embrace a future filled with peace and simpler times, where people live off the land, care about their neighbors and community, and all work toward a common prosperity. Adam doesn’t consider himself our leader, but our spiritual guide. Together, we meditate, sing, hold hands, and enjoy the bounty of our harvests.”

  Josiah’s bullshit meter was wailing like a siren, but he forced a smile. “Folks said y’all run a farming commune.”

  “To sustain ourselves, yes. But we’re so much more. We’re a family.”

  Josiah nodded. If it was such a happy, joyful, all-for-one-and-one-for-all kind of place, why wasn’t anyone smiling? And why did Brutus One and Brutus Two need semiautomatic rifles?

  “Really?” He injected totally false interest into his voice.

  “That’s our philosophy. And I would know. When Adam bought this land I was one of the first settlers at his side.” She smiled proudly.

  “Well, you are his daughter.”

  “Only in spirit, not blood. I choose him as my sire.”

  So, a fanatic. Good to know . . .

  “We’ve been slowly expanding since, not only in acreage but in believers. Nearly every day someone new comes to us to help relieve their worldly burdens and join our flock. We lift the cares from their shoulders and help them find the uncomplicated existence they’ve been craving.”

  Right . . . What she really meant was they took people who were lost and confused, lured them into the fold, fleeced them of their worldly possessions, then turned them into virtual slaves to work the crops. That wasn’t a new story. But her too-chipper attitude and the weird vibes rattled Josiah. What else was going on here? What was their endgame?

 
“Interesting. How many people live on the ranch now?”

  “Nearly five hundred. Maybe you’d like to stay and add one more to our flock?”

  Oh, fuck no. “On my way into town, I saw a sign about conscious awakening. What does that mean? Is that one of Adam’s philosophies?”

  “Absolutely. Why don’t we start the tour and I’ll explain?”

  He glanced at his watch. He’d probably used five minutes of the fifteen he’d told Logan to wait. “If it won’t take too long. A friend is expecting me soon, and I don’t want to disappoint.”

  Mercy pinned her smile a little more firmly in place as she led him past a few dozen laboring followers. “That’s one of our first philosophies, that life shouldn’t be rushed. You should spend every day soaking in your existence, not piling appointments into your calendar. At sunset, you should begin contemplating how you can make tomorrow more untroubled by the outside world.”

  Translation: You don’t need friends or family or anyone who might toss you a lifeline, just us.

  “Anyone ever leave?” Was that what the assault-rifle twins tried to prevent?

  “Some do. Their minds are too closed to adjust to our way of life. The sins and the rush-rush-rush of the outside world lure them back, so we let those on a more self-oriented path go. Most of us, though—”

  “Wait. Self-oriented? Do you mean . . . selfish?” Is that how these kooks pitched leaving them?

  “If you like.” She shrugged. “We wish those people well and tell them we’ll welcome them back with open arms if they’re ever able or willing to shed the skin of their outside existence and embrace the collective.”

  She painted a picture of free will, but he’d bet that dissenters or anyone second-guessing their message were either punished or shown the door and told they could participate only if they consented to becoming a mindless drone. “I see.”

  “Well, that would make you very enlightened. I don’t expect you to truly understand yet. Most people don’t right away. Most have to be here for weeks, sometimes months, before they truly comprehend the joy in self-sacrifice for our communal journey.”

  When they strolled past the big, gun-toting guards, he glanced at them out of the corner of his eye. Those two hadn’t taken their eyes off him since he stepped out of his truck. Josiah had no doubt they’d had training—police, military. Something. They looked way too comfortable handling guns most of the general public would never touch to be amateurs.

  “Everyone definitely looks content,” he lied. “So why the armed guards?”

  “Oh, not to keep people from leaving, if that’s what you think. The new deputy in town is misguided and we’ve had a few run-ins. He doesn’t seem to understand that everyone here has chosen to call this place home of their own free will. Eli and Samuel”—she pointed to the guys with rifles—“are here strictly to protect the Chosen. That’s what we call those who have elected to embrace Adam’s teachings and a brighter future. Some of the townsfolk don’t understand our mission or they disapprove of the fact that we’re not centered on their version of God.”

  “Do y’all believe in God here?”

  She shrugged. “We’re not against faith. But the Chosen have embraced the fact that the God of Christianity gave people free will. And with that free will, they’ve been both wise and humble enough to put their faith in Adam to lead them in a spiritual awakening so they can truly appreciate life.”

  And he did this by making them plow fields in the middle of nowhere all day? Yes, and listen to a shyster of a windbag and his creepy “daughter.”

  As they approached a large house, Mercy gripped his arm harder. When they reached the yard, music played, a song he’d never heard. Upbeat. Gratingly cheerful. He frowned as a woman with a haunting voice sang about rousing the spirit and surrendering the will to a higher cause. Enlightenment Fields had their own brainwashing tunes?

  “You’re listening?” She looked pleased by that possibility.

  “I can’t help it. It’s . . . catchy.”

  “Thank you.” She beamed. “I wrote and recorded it myself.”

  So Mercy was minister of propaganda. “I’m impressed.”

  She laughed. “I’d say you’re good for my ego, but we discourage focusing on appearance or accomplishment for the sake of pride. It really is all about the collective here, and these songs buoy the Chosen. Sometimes I’m writing or recording long past exhaustion, but their desire for musical inspiration keeps me going.”

  “Hmm. I would never have thought of work in that way.”

  “As something good for everyone? Definitely. What do you do now?” she asked, leading him up to the porch.

  Let’s see how you respond if you think I’m flat broke. “Currently, I’m unemployed. I came through town to visit an old friend, but . . .”

  “You’re worried he or she will be unwelcoming?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Too busy? Judgmental?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe both.”

  “We’re not like that here. Someone always has time for you. We never judge. You’re here because you’ve been struggling. We like to take fractured people with imperfect lives and give them a communal love so glorious they have to pinch themselves to be sure the beauty is real.”

  Holy shit, this tripe is getting deep. “That sounds amazing.”

  She smiled and pushed her way into the house. Josiah followed, every sense on alert. He had no idea what he was heading into, but his instincts told him to stay sharp.

  “Here we are. Home sweet home. I live and work here, along with a handful of staff.”

  Inside, the place was modest and lived-in. Every window was wide open, despite the January chill. A cozy brown sofa and a couple of big, mismatched recliners took up space around a massive fireplace. A few beanbags and lots of pillows were scattered across a braided rug. He saw no TV, no radio. In fact, looking around, he didn’t see a computer or many electronic devices at all.

  The nearby U-shaped kitchen was nothing fancy. Big covered pots simmered on every burner of the stove. Odd, given how early in the day it was. An unfamiliar scent wafted from the kitchen, earthy but laced with hints of both sweetness and tang. It wasn’t a scent he’d ever smelled. Even more unusual, various plants took up most of the counter space. From a distance, he didn’t recognize them, though several he would have sworn looked strikingly like cannabis. The others . . . not sure. He was no plant expert.

  “Nice.”

  “Oh, it’s not fancy. But Adam will gather some of his Chosen here at night and open his spirit, share what’s in his heart. Everyone wants to have their name called.”

  “How does he share with his followers?” Josiah had suspicions, and none of them were G-rated.

  “Through meditation, song, or heartfelt embraces. Sometimes we all hold hands and bare our feelings to one another. It’s really illuminating. And freeing.”

  That description gave him hives. He’d bet money they called people who had something to give the sect . . . or something to hide. Then Coleman, Mercy, or one of their cohorts likely worked the target over, shrouding their manipulation in some free-love bullshit designed to make them believe that if they didn’t sacrifice their worldly goods or independence for the collective good, they were somehow wrong, misguided, or defective.

  God, he hated bullying, and in his mind, this was just another form of it.

  “That sounds inspirational.”

  “It is,” she assured him. “Where, in this day and age, can you find people who want to hear about your human experience so in-depth? These days, even so-called families don’t communicate about their inner selves. They work outside the home, leave the raising of their children to relative strangers, and spend their evenings connecting with their electronic devices. Is it any wonder we have a society that’s empty of meaning?”

  He nodde
d as if truly considering her point. Yes, some families were dysfunctional. Parents did have to work to support their children, which meant realities like daycare and after-school sitters. They were tired at the end of a day and often did seek escape. But he also knew that many loved their spouses and offspring unconditionally. All of his married peers? Josiah wished his relationship with Whitney had turned out half as good as theirs, that she hadn’t committed to him if her heart hadn’t really been involved. They’d have recently celebrated their third wedding anniversary, maybe even had a child by now.

  None of that shit mattered. It hadn’t worked, and he needed to focus on Mercy. She was the kind of predator who would home in on any weakness she could spot and exploit it.

  “I see what you’re saying,” he said finally.

  “Excellent. Are you sure you don’t want lemonade while we sit and talk?”

  “Positive. I can’t stay.” He glanced at his watch. Four minutes before he had to check in with Logan.

  “You’re welcome back anytime.” She sent him a soft smile and a flutter of her lashes.

  Did she use her body as another means of coercion? Would she sleep with potential Chosen to persuade them to join?

  “Thank you. I, um . . . really was curious to know what y’all were about.”

  She smiled and sidled closer. “Still intrigued?”

  “Maybe a little.” He forced a smile.

  “I hope you’ll be back. I’d love to see you again.”

  Josiah didn’t feel the same. He couldn’t wait to get the fuck gone.

  He’d come to warn Enlightenment Fields away from the Wests and their ranch, but instinct told him that would only piss off these fanatics. Maggie and her grandparents would end up paying the price. Stepping carefully, seeing what they were up against, figuring out the best way to deliver the message so they wouldn’t lash out made sense right now.