Page 38 of Stolen Faith
Izabel had never done anything to disguise her own past menage relationships, but she knew she’d never said anything about the Trinity Masters to an outsider.
“Society? Do you mean family?” Izabel shook her head. “Don’t try to use big words you don’t know.”
“Not your fucking family. I’m sick of your shit. Get the bucket,” Camo Cast snarled.
One of the men opened the front door long enough to grab a large metal bucket off the porch. It actually looked more like a small trough—oval shaped with low sides. She’d seen something like it used to hold drinks at a rustic-themed wedding she’d gone to. Unlike the one at the wedding, this one looked genuinely crude, dented and old, the metal shiny in some places, matte in others.
He brought it into the bathroom, and she heard a tap turn on.
Rowan was sitting up straighter, his expression so flat that her stomach muscles fluttered. The presence of the “bucket” worried Rowan…which worried her.
“I need a damned chair. Fucking arm hurts.”
The other Tweedle dragged the rocking chair out of the corner.
Of course, it was an ugly looking wooden rocking chair. Why would it be anything else? Camo Cast took a seat. He rocked back and forth a few times, the wood creaking in the creepiest way possible.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Brennon muttered, eyeing the chair.
Izabel’s lips twitched, the moment of mirth cutting through the deepening dread pooling in her stomach.
Tweedledum carried the full bucket into the room, setting it down in front of Izabel. She raised her chin, hoping she looked calm and unbothered.
Her stomach and leg muscles were twitching as fear surged through her. He’d hit her, and now they were going to do…she wasn’t sure what, but it would be bad.
You can deal with this.
Negotiate. Find out what they want, what they need, and use that information. Best way to get information, besides corporate espionage, was flattery.
“How do you know about the society?” Izabel made her voice soft, let her shoulders relax. “No one knows. It’s a secret even the most powerful people in the country aren’t privy to.”
Camo Cast’s chest puffed up. “We know all about you. We know you’re the reason this country is going to hell. You’re Satan’s vehicle to make this nation, which was once Godly, into a heathen place.”
Separation of church and state? No? Okay, then.
“But how?” she asked, infusing her voice with bewilderment.
He smirked. “I know more than you think. When I saw that you’d dragged a good man, a soldier, into your wicked ways, we had to take you.”
Izabel’s gaze flickered to Rowan.
“You’re trying to save Rowan from Izabel?” Brennon asked. “What about me? Don’t I get to be saved from her…” Brennon pursed his lips, as if thinking. “Her wanton womanly wiles?”
Rowan snorted.
“You’re a West Coast elite, pushing your pedophile agenda for the gays!” Camo Cast snapped. “You’re as bad as she is.”
“No signs of intelligent life here.” Rowan’s comment was calm and flat, as if he were giving a report.
Brennon snickered.
“You were led astray, but you’re still a sinner,” Camo Cast told Rowan.
“Wait, if you’re trying to save Rowan, why did you beat him up while he was helpless?” Brennon asked. “Oh wait, that’s right. Because even though you had a gun, and he was two drinks in, he still kicked your ass and broke your arm.”
“I should have killed him,” Rowan said. “Maybe I still will.”
Camo Cast popped out of the chair, which, of course, rocked back and forth creepily. “You think—”