not be worldly in our approach to one another,” Absalom said. “We must approach each other on the spiritual plane. With love and acceptance. Here is what I propose, Radley,” he said. “You and Honor can stay in our luxury suite for the night.”
“We’re leaving.”
“You’re an attorney, Radley,” Absalom said, because that was the cover Wren had suggested Radley use. Estranged husband. Attorney. Wealthy. “A man of logic and sound reasoning, I’d assume.”
“A man with many connections in the outside world.” Honor jumped into the conversation, catching on quickly. Just like she always did.
“If I didn’t know your heart, Honor,” Absalom murmured, “I would think that was a threat.”
“Why would I want to threaten you?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Radley nudged her, hoping to reel her in before she enraged Absalom.
“That’s a good question. We have been nothing but kind to you, providing for all your spiritual and physical needs.”
“Right,” she responded, and Radley nudged her again.
“And now, your husband is here. You’ve been estranged for a season, and it is not the will of the universe or nature that a lifetime partnership should end.”
“I don’t think the universe cares about the state of our union,” Radley replied.
There was something worrisome about the way Absalom had said husband. Just enough emphasis on the word to make Radley wonder what he knew and how he knew it. Wren had produced a fake marriage license, a phony business card. She’d even had an agency tech put together a website advertising Radley’s nonexistent law office. The cover was solid, and there was no way it could be blown by a simple internet search.
“God is concerned about all His children,” Absalom said. “And He has given me authority in this small part of the world to ensure that His will is done and that His concerns are the concerns of the community.”
“Tell you what.” Radley stopped walking, his arm slipping from Honor’s waist. She’d straightened, was standing beside him—shoulder-height, swaying on her feet, but trying to look steady and ready to fight. “You go ahead and concern yourself with whatever you want. After you give me my keys and my cell phone.”
“I’m sorry to say, that won’t be happening tonight.”
“If you’d rather me find the keys and phone myself, I can do that.”
“That won’t be happening either.” Absalom nodded toward one of the guards.
“Come on. I’ll take you to your new accommodations,” the man said, grabbing Radley’s arm.
“We’re leaving,” Radley asserted, shrugging away, his duffle falling to the ground.
Honor grabbed it, her face pale in the darkness, the bandages on her hands stark white.
The guard grabbed for him again, and Radley side-swiped his knee, not bothering to watch as he fell. He’d grown up fighting. He knew how it was done. Fast and dirty. But now he mixed the skills he’d been taught in the military with the street-smart thuggery he’d learned growing up in the inner city. The second guard fell as quickly as the first, and he was facing the third.
Only this guy had pulled a gun and was pointing it straight at Radley’s heart.
“You’re going to be sorry for that,” he growled.
Radley kicked the gun from his hand. It skittered into the undergrowth nearby, and they both went for it. Radley reached it first, swinging it toward the other man.
“Stop,” he commanded.
And the world stilled.
The night went silent.
For a moment, there was nothing but the two of them staring each other down.
And then Absalom spoke, his voice as cold as ice.
“These kinds of brawls are never in the will of the universe or God. Put the gun down.”
Radley’s gaze shifted from his potential attacker to Absalom.
He had Honor by the arm, a gun pressed to her cheek.
Radley had been a sniper in the military. He knew how to take a man out, but there were three other men getting to their feet. Two of them still armed, and he couldn’t risk Honor’s life. He had to trust, as his mother often said, that God would make things right in His own good time.
He set the gun down, raised his hands in the air and waited.
Honor didn’t much like having a gun pressed to her cheek. She liked even less that she felt weak, her legs shaky. At her best, she could probably take Absalom down easily.
She was not at her best.
She wasn’t even close to it.
Radley’s gaze was focused on Absalom. “You are making a big mistake,” he said.
“The mistake is yours. You’ve unbalanced the peace of the community. In God’s kingdom, my word is law. A little time to think, and I’m sure you’ll both agree,” Absalom intoned, shoving the barrel of the gun a little deeper into Honor’s flesh.
If that were his idea of peace, she’d like to know how he described war.
“Take Mr. Tumberg to the meditation room,” he commanded. Then, he swung around, his grip still tight, the gun still pressed against her cheek.
The yurt was just a few yards away, candlelight shimmering on the ground below the window. A peaceful scene in any other setting, but right now, it was terrifying.
Behind her, there was a scuffle, fists against flesh, quiet grunts. She tried to turn her head, but the gun was pressed so tightly against her skin that she couldn’t.
“Do you know the story of Lot’s wife?” Absalom asked, his lips against her ear.
Her flesh crawled, all the heat that had been roaring through her body replaced by icy fear. “I’m familiar with it.”
“Then you know that looking back didn’t end well for her.”
“I want to see my husband.”
“I’m disappointed in you, Honor. I thought you were more in tune with the goals of the community.”
“I came here to get away from things,” she lied as she allowed herself to be marched to the yurt. Her legs still felt wobbly, but her mind was clearer, her thoughts crisp. “Not to join your community.”
“Part
