Page 103 of Playing With Love

It didn’t take much more of her telling me about her day to understand.

“When we were done, Patty invited us over for lunch. She used to be an attorney but was burnt out on all the garbage she not only heard but was a part of during trial. She’d always loved writing poetry but as she got deeper into her career, couldn’t find the time to write. She heard about Mackenzie’s seminar, went looking for a way to manage her stress, but found something more meaningful. She quit her job, sold her home in Brentwood, California, and moved out here to live stress-free and get back to what she loves—writing poetry, working in her small garden, and cooking complicated meals for one.”

Oh yeah, in the hours I’d been gone Liza had spent her time getting to know another resident. Not only did she sound like she liked the woman but she was sympathetic to her plight. It wasn’t that I didn’t feel bad for the members of Nu Dawn, I did. What was happening to them was jacked. But I couldn’t let myself get caught in the weeds, I had to stay focused on the big picture, and that wasn’t feeling sorry for people; it was about getting criminals off the street and behind bars.

“Liza—”

“I know,” she mumbled.

I glanced at Allyson who was watching Liza with a frown.

“You doing okay?”

Allyson’s gaze shifted to me. Her frown deepened, and I felt like a world-class dick for asking such a dumb question.

“I will be after this is done.”

To anyone listening, Allyson’s comment could be interpreted as her meaning the vigil. But I knew her response was deeper than that. She needed this done and to get back to her sister Jessica so the healing could begin.

I’d been on the fence about pressing my luck scoping out Tate’s sheds. I was of two minds—my gut said I needed to back off, but waiting would mean prolonging Allyson’s misery and give Liza more time to get to know these people. Liza was smart and rational, but there would come a time when emotion would win out. It wouldn’t be hers that would push her over the edge, it would be Allyson’s.

Decision made, I tightened my hand around Liza’s and the rest of the walk was done in silence.

Dusk had fallen, candles were lit, the area around the community center looked eerily beautiful. Allyson had introduced us to every member of the commune.

Everyone except Tate.

Where was this fucking guy?

Allyson had said he was rarely seen but still, it was strange he wasn’t present for the vigil. Mackenzie was working the crowd, and had been for the last few hours. I moved to the back of the gathering, skirting around clusters of Beatrice’s mourning friends, making sure I didn’t lose sight of Liza. Allyson was waiting her turn to take the microphone to talk about her friend, Liza had gone with her for moral support. And it hit me as it had yesterday how uncomfortable Liza was with physical contact.

Which made me think back to when I’d first met her. She was a hand-shaker. Even with the females she worked with—Women who she was obviously close to—I’d never seen her offer a hug or accept one. She’d always sidestepped and offered her hand. I’d been the one who’d pulled her in for a hug first. And if memory served, she went stiff before she returned my gesture. I’d never given it much thought, chalking it up to her being professional. But now, knowing what I knew about her father, it pissed me off. She had no clue how to show physical affection because she’d never been shown any.

I watched Allyson and Liza move forward when the next person went up to speak. I scanned the crowd again looking for Tate, not seeing him, but found Mackenzie holding an openly weeping woman.

That was a mistake, giving my attention to the bitch who was responsible for a young woman’s death, lost in a revenge fantasy of the women of Nu Dawn stringing her up and getting in their licks before they took over the commune and hung the bitch for her crimes.

So I wasn’t paying attention to what was happening behind me until I felt the barrel of a gun at my spine.

My gaze went back to Liza across the courtyard. Safe. I scanned the crowd of twenty-plus people and knew I was fucked.

Two men stepped forward, flaking me. But it was the dark-haired man to my right who spoke.

“Choice is yours, Special Agent Mitchell. You can come with us quietly or we can make this messy. We’ll start with the big-mouth bitch, Ally. But by the time we’re done, no one will be left standing.”

Jesus fuck.

We missed something.

I nodded.

The man crowded me, pulled up my shirt, and divested me of my firearm.

“Too easy,” the man mumbled.

I clenched my jaw.

“I would’ve taken my chances.”