Page 89 of Stolen Faith

Stopping outside the door, Rowan looked at Juliette, awaiting her command.

She looked at him. “Break down the door.”

Chapter Eighteen

“Daddy, they’re sinners!”

“They’re dangerous, TiffaniGrace.” The speaker’s voice was deep and booming. “They shouldn’t be here.”

“I know I shouldn’t bring Satan to us, but it’s time.” TiffaniGrace sounded excited, almost frantic. “Time for us to reveal their presence. To prove to the world that we’re right. Evil walks among us!”

TiffaniGrace and Jonah Morgan were so focused on their heated argument that it took them a minute to realize other people were standing there.

Juliette had ordered him to break down the door, but Rowan hadn’t needed to. It was unlocked.

Motioning everyone else back, he’d crouched and eased open the heavy dark wood door, checking to see how many people were in the room. He could hear two voices, but that didn’t mean there weren’t more.

The office looked like a room in a stately English mansion—dark wood antique furniture, Dutch Masters’ style paintings, and old-style silk wallpaper. Someone had spared no expense in the decorating.

Incongruously, there was a massive American flag framed on one wall, with a gold cross embroidered in the center.

Father and daughter were on the far side of the large office, facing one another. Rowan eased into the room, still crouched and checking for guards. There was no one else there.

Straightening, Rowan reached over and opened the door all the way. Juliette and Devon stepped in, bare feet silent on the carpet. In the well-lit office, they looked worse than they had in the dim prison lighting. He probably looked terrible too.

Finally, TiffaniGrace looked over, movement drawing her attention. She gasped dramatically, both hands going to her face. “The devils are out!”

Rowan slid farther into the room. There was an interior door, and he was fairly certain there wasn’t a guard or mercenary hiding in that closet—it was why he’d opened the door, indicating everyone else could come in—but he was going to check.

“Get inside and close the door,” Devon said.

Rowan was glad he and the other man were on the same page. They were safer barricaded in this office together than they were with Izabel, Brennon, and a captive Barry out in the hall where someone might see them.

“Who are you?” Reverend Jonah Morgan yelled. “What are you doing—”

“Oh my God. Barry!”

Brennon had wheeled Barry into the room, and Devon pushed the door closed behind them.

Rowan slipped through a door in the left-hand wall, then back out. A bathroom, not a closet. “Clear.”

Devon nodded in acknowledgement.

Rowan turned to the two shocked people on the far side of the room, raising the gun, which Devon had given him. The weapon still had only one bullet, the rest in Rowan’s pocket. He considered reloading it, but there was a good reason to keep only one bullet in. If it looked like he was going to lose the weapon, he could fire it, getting rid of that single bullet so that whoever ended up with the gun couldn’t turn the tables and use it.

The reverend was yelling questions and demands until Rowan took a step toward him, gun still raised.

“Don’t move. Don’t talk.”

He went silent. TiffaniGrace stared wide-eyed at Barry, whose gag was taped in place with decorative sunrise duct tape they’d found in the back of a drawer just before leaving the Sunday school room.

Juliette had moved out of the doorway and now stood off to the side, waiting and assessing.

Before leaving the relative safety of the classroom, they’d planned how they were going to handle this. These weren’t elaborate plans because they had no real idea what they were walking into, but so far, no surprises.

Which meant, right now, Juliette didn’t have a part to play, not yet.

Rowan kept the gun on the Morgans, ready to play his part as the silent, dangerous one. He looked at the others and prayed they’d all make it out of this alive.

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