Page 99 of Lethal Danger

Didn’t matter. If Jazz was right about Hawthorne’s feelings for her, and if Uncle Pierce really meant all he’d said, she might have a real family of her own soon.

Twenty-Eight

“Welcome.” The infamous Desmond Patch rose from behind his desk as soon as his assistant led Jazz into the office.

The room was large and richly decorated in a classical style similar to Uncle Pierce’s home study.

Jazz would’ve expected something more minimalist and bare, given the white uniforms of the cult members. But the apparent contradiction made her realize that despite the tour she’d taken of the commune, she still didn’t know any concrete details about what the cult taught and believed.

Her survey of the space was quickly cut short by Desmond moving toward her with a graceful stride, extending his hands. He smiled warmly as he reached her, keeping his hands out as if expecting her to take them.

Apparently, people who wanted to join the cult had to get touchy-feely awfully fast. She could do hand contact to keep her cover. Anything more than that, and she might have to introduce her knife to this party.

But he only took her hands in a gesture a man might do with a long-lost sister. And the warmth in his almost-black eyes looked genuine. No creep factor at all.

“Please,” he swung an arm toward the little seating area where a wingback chair, shorter armchair, and sofa were gathered, “let’s sit and talk awhile.”

Jazz passed in front of him to take a seat on one end of the sofa, some of the tension relaxing its hold on her insides.

“Jazz Lamont.” He gazed at her with a friendly smile as he lowered into the wingback chair, his red-striped, white robe draping onto the armrests. “Such a unique name for an especially beautiful woman.”

Ah. There it was. Flirting?

And yet, nothing in his eyes glinted or seemed ogling. He kept his gaze on her face with more of a paternal expression—caring and sweet. How he pulled that off, she couldn’t imagine.

“I understand you’re interested in joining our little community.”

She nodded. “I just have some questions I’d like answered first. So I can be sure it’s right for me.”

“Of course. That’s wise and understandable.” His mouth shifted into a soft line that complimented the understanding in his gaze. “Please, ask anything you’d like to know. I hope I can give you answers that will bring you peace.”

She started with softball questions about the housing, how many members there were, and the like. Easy stuff to put him at ease before she challenged him.

She watched his reactions and expressions closely as he responded. If Hawthorne hadn’t told Jazz this guy had enforcers who’d locked him in a room, Jazz wouldn’t have believed Desmond Patch was anything other than what he appeared to be—a warm, intelligent, charming man. Whose good looks and distinguished demeanor probably didn’t hurt him with the ladies either.

Granted, the massive wingback chair he sat in seemed a little throne-like with his tall posture and air of authority. But he did a good job laying on the charm to offset any sense of domineering.

He didn’t give any hint of snake oil salesman either. Even when going on about the benefits of Best Life. No matter how outrageous the requirements for membership in his community were.

“So I would have to sign over all my financial assets before I could join Best Life?”

“That’s a common misconception.” He returned her hard-hitting serve with a relaxed lob. “You’d be choosing to leave your worldly goods, those things that caused you the most stress and worry in life, in the hands of others so you would finally experience true freedom. The freedom to live the rest of your life without a care in the world and to have the time you’ve always wanted for other pursuits.”

She’d overlook his twisty way of getting everyone’s money for now. “What other pursuits?”

“Attaining your best life.”

“I’m a little confused about that part. How do we attain our best life? How do we even know what that looks like?”

He nodded slowly, tenting his index fingers against his chin as if thinking about the answer—to a question he’d probably been asked a thousand times. “No best life is identical, just as no human is completely identical to another. But through years of practice, study, and proven results, I can say that I have discovered the process that will enable every person to attain their best life for themselves.”

Yeah, that didn’t sound far-fetched at all. Jazz kept her expression full of curiosity as she watched the man. “What does that involve?”

“We study and commune with the stars, the celestial beings that have been in existence far longer than us and have much to teach us. We provide courses of study for all of our community members, free of charge, to learn from the wisdom of the ages and the skies.”

Desmond watched Jazz with a steady gaze as he had during the whole interview. “Those who dedicate themselves to the path of the stars and self-discovery will attain their epiphany and achieve their best lives.”

The dude was beginning to sound as programmed as Randall. But at least his gaze didn’t go blank and distant like the boy’s. Desmond managed to look like he genuinely believed what he was saying. Passion even filled his voice as if he honestly cared about the cause of people achieving their best lives. And really believed in all that astrological hogwash.

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