Page 56 of Sinning for Santa

“I hope you’re not planning on jumping.”

I gasp at the voice, spinning to see a woman, maybe in her forties wearing gym pants and a crop top as she jogs on the spot, sweat beading on her forehead.

“Oh, ah… No.” I laugh awkwardly, and she nods.

“Good. It’s awful having to retrieve the bodies that go over. Some think it’ll kill them instantly, but many have found if the fall doesn’t kill them on impact, the injuries they sustain makes them wish they were dead all over again.”

“Oh.” I lean over a little to get a better look over the ledge which is fenced off with clear perspex, but I guess if someone really wants out, they’ll climb it and jump. “Does that happen a lot?”

I glance back in time to see the woman shrug as she checks her fitness watch, still jogging on the spot. “A time or two. Some women just can’t handle it, you know?”

Some women?

No, I don’t know, but I’m not telling her that.

A cold chill runs up my spine, her words just another convincing factor that these women didn’t come here voluntarily.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” I smile fakely, but all she does is quirk a brow.

“I didn’t offer it. But I’m guessing you’re Devon’s little mouse?”

I nearly choke at her words, my own saliva working against me, getting stuck in the back of my throat.

“What? How?”

She snickers, her eyes roaming me from head to toe before she starts jogging off and calls over her shoulder. “Welcome to the family.”

The family?

My heart sinks.

I was right.

This issome sort of a cult, or a polygamist community, and Devon is their husband. And probably not because they wanted to be his, but because he kidnapped them too, and groomed them into accepting a life here.

I peer over the edge of the cliff again, looking at the steep drop that looks pretty lethal to me.

Is that the only way out? Did some women feel like jumping to their death was their only choice?

I back away, suddenly not so sure the view is as beautiful as I thought it was.

I need to keep my wits about me and figure out a way out of this town before I become just another woman Devon claims.

Glancing at the Palace as I make my way back to Main Street, its sheer size compared to everything else in this town is overwhelming. It’s named appropriately given how it towers over the rest of the town, with the next biggest structure being the church at the end of the street.

My feet lead me there, my heart hammering in my chest as the reality of my situation settles in my gut. I need to figure out a way to get out of this place. To get away from that man.

Hurrying up the small paved path, I grip the old wrought iron handle and pull, only to have the door not budge.

“It’s locked,” a woman calls, and I turn to see a younger woman than the last, pushing a stroller with a toddler in it past the church. “Mr Marx is the only one with a key.”

Of course he is.

“Do you know why it’s locked?” I ask, making my way towards her, my eyes dropping to the dark haired child sleeping with a pacifier in its mouth. A little boy.

My gaze darts back to the woman, who must be in her late twenties or early thirties. Her hair is auburn, not dark brown, so the father must be dark haired too.

Wait… Is Devon the father?

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