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  “I just might. Before I go, could I use your restroom?” That would give him some privacy to text Logan.

  Instantly, she got nervous. “Ah . . . well. You’ll have to give me a minute to clean up.”

  “No need, Mercy. I’m not expecting anything fancy.” I just want to figure out what you’re hiding . . . “Functional suits me fine. Simply point me in the right direction.”

  The woman arranged her mouth into something almost resembling a smile. “Um . . . well, okay. This way.”

  She led him down a short hallway. One door on his right stood ajar. Mercy closed it as she passed but not before he saw stacks of crates filling the room. Same thing with another door on her left. Wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling. What the hell were they stockpiling here? Whatever it was, she didn’t want him to know about it.

  “Here you are.” She leaned into the little bathroom, kicked the cabinet under the sink closed, then flipped on a light before racing to draw the shower curtain. “Don’t mind all my plants. I like to grow them. I have a really green thumb, and the light in here is just right for these sensitive babies.”

  Josiah stepped past her and inside the small space. Holy shit, it was like a jungle. Mirrors covered the walls. A little fan oscillated the breeze around the room from the bathroom counter. A humidifier sat between the sink and the toilet. The bathroom was a makeshift greenhouse?

  “No problem,” he insisted, eager to shut the door and figure out why jumpy little Mercy seemed so intent on hiding her growing greenery. “I won’t disturb them. I just appreciate it, ma’am.”

  “No need for formality here.” She brushed against him before she slipped out of the room. “Call me Mercy.”

  He gave her a nod, then shut the door, very nearly in her face. Clearly, she didn’t want to leave him unsupervised in any corner of this house. But he had to connect with Logan now or the cavalry might show up before he figured out what the fuck was going on.

  His phone buzzed in his pocket, a text from Logan. All okay?

  I’m fine. This place isn’t. I’ll call when I leave. Gone in 10.

  Ring me then.

  He closed Messenger, then launched his camera. He didn’t know shit about plants, but he could find someone who did. Maybe gardening was Mercy’s hobby and this would amount to nothing more sinister than her being protective of fragile vegetation. But he’d bet every dime he had the explanation wasn’t that simple.

  Easing aside the shower curtain, Josiah snapped a few pictures of her “babies” getting sun. The green ones were definitely cannabis plants. So the sect of “conscious awakening” was into pot, huh? Hanging from racks attached to the ceiling were herbs of some sort with tiny purple blooms and open-bottom pots. Under the cabinets, he found mushrooms with brown caps growing in the damp shade. Hallucinogenic, maybe?

  Mercy was definitely doing more than indulging her green thumb here. His guess? She was boiling down the elements she grew and brewing one hell of a trip.

  Josiah snapped pictures of everything, focusing tight on all the plant species so they could be ID’d. Then he flushed the empty toilet, washed his hands, and emerged from the bathroom with forced cheer.

  He was a little surprised Mercy wasn’t waiting, come-hither smile in place.

  “Where were you? You left the mixture untended and the plants lying around.” Mercy sounded very unhappy with whomever she was berating.

  “I-I was short on glycerin, and I didn’t see any in the pantry, so I had to run to the storehouse and—”

  “Never leave the kitchen untended,” she snapped at the other woman.

  “Yes, Mercy. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.” The woman sounded terrified.

  Mercy huffed. “Have you had breakfast?”

  “No.”

  “After you’re done here, take a bottle from the refrigerator and go to your room. Meditate until I come for you.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t argue. Strife poisons our collective spirit. Adam knows what’s best for us all. This is his will.”

  “My baby—”

  “Not another word.” The hard edge in Mercy’s tone said she didn’t give two shits what happened to this woman or her child.

  “Yes, Mercy.” The woman’s voice was so timid, Josiah could barely hear her.

  Shutting the bathroom door with an audible click and stepping down the hall loudly, Josiah emerged into the open living and kitchen space, giving the counters a discreet glance. Colanders lined the sink. Several funnels rested nearby, along with smaller strainers, pieces of cheesecloth, and various jars.

  They had to be making something shady.

  Josiah smiled. “Thank you for the restroom. I should get on the road.”

  Mercy didn’t spare the other woman another glance. Instead, she rushed over, all smiles again, encircling his arm. “You really don’t have a few minutes for the rest of your tour?”

  “I don’t. I’m sorry I ran out of time.” He sent her an apologetic glance.

  “Well . . .” She tried to cover her displeasure with a smile. “Another time, maybe?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Hopefully soon. I’ll walk you to your truck.”

  Josiah wished she’d get away from him. “That would be great.”

  “We’re having a welcome party for some new Chosen on Tuesday night. I’d love for you to join us, so you can really see the spirit of our community.”

  “If I’m still in town, I’ll definitely consider it.” On the twelfth of never as hell was freezing over.

  She led him out the front door of the house. “I hope to see you.”

  He gave her a noncommittal nod. “So . . . what was your friend making in the kitchen? Soap? It smelled interesting.”

  “Oh, that?” She shook her head. “Just a homemade broth that’s always wonderful to serve, but especially when the weather is nippy.”

  A mushroom and cannabis mystery broth? With glycerin, an ingredient common in soap? Bullshit.

  This whole place was buckets full of wrong. He needed to get the fuck out, call Logan, and reassess another way to keep Maggie and her grandparents safe.

  “I get that.” He nodded as they crossed the yard and headed back toward the others toiling.

  “Who are you visiting in town?”

  Damn, he should have anticipated this question. Unfortunately, he didn’t know anyone except Maggie and her grandparents. But he did know the name of their murdered neighbor . . .

  “I’m on my way to the Haney ranch. I’ve always been close to Ben. I’m hoping he could help me find work.”

  Mercy flinched. It was a tiny moment, the merest pinch of her mouth, before she covered it with a sticky-sweet concern. “Oh, dear. You don’t know?”

  “Know what?”

  “Mr. Haney had an unfortunate . . . accident.”

  She classified being pinned to the floor by a pitchfork and left to bleed to death a mishap?

  “Oh?”

  Mercy cleared her throat. “I’m afraid he died on Friday. I’m so sorry.”

  Josiah pretended shock. “What? I had no idea. I don’t . . . understand. How?”

  “I don’t know the details. We don’t talk much to the townsfolk since they don’t understand us. I just know what the headline in the local paper said.”

  Instinct told him she knew exactly what had happened to the old man. Josiah had no proof, but everything about her reactions seemed somewhere between forced and rehearsed.

  “I-I don’t know what to say,” he mumbled.

  “I’m sure this is a shock. Josiah, there’s no one at the Haney ranch to visit. It’s probably blocked from visitors until the police finish their investigation . . .” She shook her head. “Such a tragedy. You’re welcome to stay here. We can even talk through your grief.”

  Not on your life.


  “It’s just so terrible,” he muttered, hoping she chalked his nonanswer up to shock.

  “You and Mr. Haney aren’t related, are you? I didn’t think he had any family left.”

  Josiah heard faint alarm in her tone, as if that possibility disturbed her.

  He dodged the question. “I need to go. I have to make some phone calls and—”

  “You really are welcome to stay. I’ll personally take care of you.”

  How, by getting on her back and spreading her legs? The way she behaved, that seemed the most likely scenario. They were talking about a dead man, and she seemed awfully eager to crowd his personal space and press her breasts against him.

  “That’s kind of you. I just . . . I need some time alone. This is a huge shock. Wow . . .”

  As they strolled past the workers toiling and neared his truck, Mercy released his arm. “I understand. I’m here if you want help or spiritual release.”

  Josiah tried not to laugh. Spiritual release? Did she mean shouting Oh, god as she came?

  Instead, he squeezed her hand. “I appreciate it. I may take you up on that.”

  “I hope you do.” She rose up on her tiptoes and brushed a kiss across his cheek.

  “Can I call you to let you know?”

  With a faint smile, she shook her head. “At Enlightenment Fields, we believe technology leads us away from our chosen community. We have a single phone in Adam’s office so we can reach the outside world in case of emergency, but no one here has their own cell or any other personal communication method. We’ve all chosen to commune with nature and one another. For the most part, we have no need for anyone else.”

  This place got creepier and creepier . . .

  “Sometimes I wish I could just toss my phone in the trash,” he lied. “It beeps and dings and—”

  “Ruins your calm and focus, right? We understand.”

  Josiah gave one last glance around the commune. Along one building in the distance he saw a rack of plastic fifty-five-gallon barrels marked DRINKING WATER. There had to be a hundred stacked on top of each other across multiple racks. A buddy of his in Minnesota was a prepper, and this shit looked right up his alley . . . Along the side of the greenhouse—he now wondered what they grew in there—were bags of seeds marked SURVIVAL GARDEN. Something else his pal would love.

  Near the field, Eli and Samuel, the rifle-toting goons, had been replaced with two more remarkably like their ilk, long on watchfulness, short on communications skills, and quick with the trigger.

  Really, what the fuck was going on around here?

  “You’re curious?” Mercy observed.

  “How can I not be? Your way of life is very different.”

  “Than the outside world, yes. But that’s the point. Everything out there seeks to use you up, drain your energy, block your journey of inner understanding, and leave you empty. I’m sure to most it seems odd here at first, but people soon understand that civilization out there is corrupt. Here, it’s safe and comforting. It’s home.”

  He nodded as if she’d given him lots of food for thought. “Thanks for your hospitality.”

  “I’m glad you stopped by, Josiah. My door is always open. I hope I see you Tuesday.”

  She stepped back, and he was glad to finally get some breathing room. He hopped in his truck and gunned the engine as his phone buzzed again. As he backed away from the commune and rattled down the dirt road, he saw a message from Logan.

  Get out okay?

  He didn’t text back, just grabbed the device and dialed his boss. “Yes, but holy shit. You were right about this place. Everything here is off.”

  “Goddamn it.” Logan sighed. “Tell me what you know.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Still on the road back to Lafayette. I pulled over to grab some breakfast. Getting back on the road now. Spill it.”

  Josiah did, not leaving out a damn thing. “I’ve got pictures of all the plants. But I’m telling you, they’re brewing something over there that’s not remotely legal. You and Tara still have contacts in the FBI?”

  “Yeah. So does Sean Mackenzie, Callie’s husband. We’ll make a few phone calls, figure out who might be interested in your findings. Sounds like we’ll need a botanist, too.”

  “As soon as I get back to the Wests’ ranch, I’ll send you all the photos.”

  “Good. What are you going to do about Maggie?” Logan hesitated.

  “I don’t know yet.” But Josiah didn’t like her being so near this place.

  “You two weren’t quiet last night . . .”

  “We didn’t mean to keep you up.” But he wasn’t apologizing for it.

  “I’m used to it. It’s like camping with Hunter and Kata. Or Tyler and Delaney. Or Kimber and Deke.” Logan groaned. “And there’s nothing more awful than listening to your sister getting frisky.”

  Josiah tried not to let it, but the image of his sisters and their husbands doing the nasty bombarded his brain . . . He winced. “Ugh. I hate you for putting that in my head. I need bleach.”

  Logan howled. “Now I don’t have to suffer alone.”

  “Yeah, laugh it up . . . As for Maggie, I’m worried. I have zero proof, but I think Enlightenment Fields had something to do with Haney’s death. I don’t know why they’d want him dead but—”

  “I’ve been doing a little investigating, so I can tell you exactly why. Apparently these fruit loops have been buying parcels of land southeast of Comfort, west of I-10, mostly uninhabited. But they’d like all the stretches east of town. They already own the sections that butt up against Comfort. Haney refused to sell his spread, but since he had no family . . . I guess it will be on the market now.”

  “Isn’t that a coincidence?” Josiah quipped. “Mercy was quick to ask if I was Haney’s kin.”

  Because if he had been, he would have stood to inherit it, and that would mean more obstacles to acquisition for them.

  “I’ll bet. Want to guess who owns the land sandwiched between Haney’s and the commune?”

  Josiah’s blood ran cold. “Maggie’s grandparents?”

  “Bingo.”

  Holy motherfucking shit. “That definitely concerns me.”

  “It should.”

  “Look, I know I had an assignment starting Thursday, but—”

  “Taking care of Maggie and her grandparents doesn’t pay the bills, and guarding the senator on his trip to New Orleans does.”

  “Then I’ll take vacation and do this on my own time. But I can’t leave the Wests to suffer the same fate as Haney.”

  “As it happens, I promised Cutter that we would keep Shealyn’s family safe while they’re gone. I’d be letting him down if I didn’t tell you to stay and take care of them.”

  Relief poured through Josiah. “Thanks.”

  “No problem. The senator is an asshole, anyway. I’ll let him spend some time with One-Mile. And his absence from town will get him off of Brea’s back. Two birds, one stone.”

  “Good thinking. I’ll go back to Maggie and . . .” Tell her what? “Figure out what to do next.”

  Whatever happened, since Magnolia West was involved, it was bound to be complicated. But bottom line, he was moving in until this situation was resolved—whether she liked it or not.

  How he’d keep his hands off her and other parts of him from becoming too attached would be a whole different question.

  CHAPTER 6

  When Josiah’s truck pulled into the yard, Maggie felt more giddy and relieved than she should.

  “You sweet on him?” Granna asked as she raised her hand to her brow, shielding her face from the sun as he parked.

  Josiah exited his vehicle. She held her breath as he scanned the yard. His gaze screeched to a stop when he spotted her. Maggie swallowed down something that felt suspiciously like her hear
t.

  What the devil? She didn’t connect with people. Coupling up was definitely beyond her emotional capability. But from the second she’d set eyes on Josiah, it was as if some invisible string attached them. She’d thought she had snipped that tie this morning. She’d sent him on his way, after all.

  Then you stupidly flirted with him about cereal. Face it, you’re more than a little interested.

  She was. And now, some subversive part of her wanted him to stay at least a little longer, see what might happen between them.

  “He’s all right,” she told her grandmother.

  Granna laughed. “From you, that’s almost a declaration of love. And he seems really eager to talk to you, Maggie girl.”

  It looked that way. Those long legs of his, the ones he had used to spread her thighs wider and propel himself deeper inside her last night, ate the distance between them now. His gaze never wavered from her.

  Lord, was she really trembling?

  “I’ll go see what he wants.”

  “You do that. I’ll wrap up with the rental company now that everything is loaded.”

  Once Granna turned away to deal with the driver, Maggie headed across the yard toward Josiah, stuffing her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. If she didn’t, she’d be more than tempted to touch him again. The truth was, everything about him flipped her switch. Even when she didn’t want to want him, she did.

  “Hey.” She greeted him as they neared, steps slowing.

  “Maggie.” He studied her as if he could look inside her.

  “How’d it go?”

  He hesitated. Trepidation tightened her chest.

  “We should talk,” he said finally. “About a lot of things.”

  Did he mean the two of them? Normally, “romantic” conversations made her shudder and run. A lot of drama for something not meant to last. Why bother? But she wanted to enjoy the time she shared with Josiah. That mattered, probably more than it should. Some part of her even fantasized about sharing more than a fling.

  Silly and impossible.

  “All right. Papa went to see what he could find out about Ben Haney’s death, so we can use his study.”