Page 91 of Stolen Faith
“Or podcasts?” Izabel added. “We will divorce you.”
Rowan looked at them, and his lips twitched. Juliette was glad to see it. Rowan was too serious, almost grim after his time in the service. Izabel and Brennon had been the right choices for him, and he was right for both of them.
Rowan looked like he wouldn’t say more, but Devon gave a quick nod to him while watching Jonah. Juliette wondered what her husband was thinking, doing. Seeing him dusting off some of his old skills had hurt. Finding out who he really was, what he really did, had driven them apart once upon a time.
“A guy in my unit did,” Rowan said slowly, as if measuring every word. “We used to make so much fun of him.” Rowan eyed the older man. “He’d get pissy and try to explain how it was right, he was right. But eventually he had to stop. Because of, you know…reality.”
“Wow, reality was enough to fix him? That’s unexpected,” Brennon said.
“He tried explaining how the Holocaust didn’t happen, and our C.O. couldn’t take it anymore. He sat him down, walked him through firsthand accounts by soldiers, then ordered him to stop being so fucking stupid.”
Reverend Morgan watched the exchange warily, his daughter opening and closing her mouth like a fish.
“Hmm.” Devon made a considering noise, watching the reverend. Apparently, the older man’s response, or lack of response, to Izabel, Rowan, and Brennon’s conversation surprised Juliette’s husband.
“B-but,” TiffaniGrace babbled. “It didn’t happen. The Jews made it up!”
“Please, bitch,” Izabel said conversationally.
TiffaniGrace opened her mouth, closed it. Opened it again.
“I think her brain is overheating.” Brennon’s face was a study in mock concern.
“What do you want?” Once again, the reverend’s voice boomed through the room. He looked at Devon.
“What do you want?” Devon countered. “He kidnapped us on your behalf.”
Jonah grimaced. “I didn’t know about any of this.”
“Good, then this is simple. You answer a couple of our questions, and we’ll all go on our way.”
“I don’t answer to you. You’re unnatural,” Jonah sneered, but his gaze was shrewd rather than wild with belief in his own bullshit. “Your society is an affront to democracy.”
“I mean…he has a point,” Brennon said. “A secret society of powerful people who—”
Izabel gently put her hand over his mouth.
“We don’t live in a democracy,” Juliette said coolly. “It’s a constitutional republic. In a democracy, the will of the majority rules, but protection of minority rights is integral to the country. Plus, the majority of Americans are idiots.”
“Harsh,” Brennon murmured.
“Accurate,” Izabel countered.
“Through no fault of their own,” Juliette said. “They’re being fed bullshit by men like him.” Juliette met Jonah Morgan’s stare. “Men like you.”
Jonah’s lip curled. He looked at her with utter disdain, as if she were so far beneath him, he could barely bring himself to look at her.
Devon gently touched her arm, and Juliette took a calming breath.
“You inspire men,” Devon said, in an almost admiring tone. Building rapport. “But sometimes your followers do things like commit aggravated kidnapping, false imprisonment, and torture.”
TiffaniGrace raised her chin. “You deserve to be tortured.”
Juliette’s body went tight with the need to scream. To tell TiffaniGrace exactly what Barry had done to her. In her imagination, the other woman would be shocked and appalled. In reality…she’d probably applaud.
“Reverend,” Devon said. “I don’t think you meant for this to happen. I think you’re a smart man, but this,” Devon gestured to the five of them, “isn’t smart. We asked Barry here what the point of it was, but still aren’t sure exactly what he thought he was going to accomplish.”
Jonah looked at Juliette, his gaze switched to assessing, then back to Devon. Juliette had seen herself in the bathroom mirror—she looked bruised and battered. Devon’s bandages were dirty, and blood was beginning to seep through.