Page 101 of Stolen Faith

She turns, two dark figures blocking her in. She never sees the gun, only hears a quiet pop. There’s a moment of awareness as she sinks to the ground…and then she knows no more.

Brennon grinned.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Izabel asked.

“I love imagining tragic backstories,” he replied quietly, the two conversing in soft tones, simply because TiffaniGrace was quiet for the moment, and he hoped to keep her that way. Her voice was so high-pitched and grating, it was giving him a headache.

“Okay…whose tragic backstory are you imagining?”

“Theirs.” He nodded to Reverend Morgan and TiffaniGrace. TiffaniGrace was bound to her chair once more. He and Izabel were assigned to watch them while Rowan stood by the door. Juliette and Devon disappeared into the bathroom to “make some calls.” Brennon’s guess was they were calling to find out if Mrs. Morgan really had been a member. It would be great if they were calling for help, but they didn’t have answers, not really, and until they did, Brennon didn’t think Juliette would let them run for it.

“Let me guess. They went to too much church, burned books with dinosaurs in them, and blamed all the natural disasters on some minority group,” Izabel said, trying to play along.

Brennon looked at his fiancée. “That’s a terrible tragic backstory.”

“Seems tragic to me.”

“Way too close to reality. Plus, you forgot the part where the mother died.”

“Where the Trinity Masters killed her mother.” Izabel’s sarcasm was painfully thick.

“Because she fell in love with the son of a preacher man… Who was also a preacher man…” Brennon added a little musical tint to his words.

“Oh great, now that earworm is playing in my head.”

Brennon chuckled.

“You realize,” Izabel said slowly, “that in your version of the tragic backstory, the Trinity Masters are the bad guys who murdered a young mother?”

“First of all, villains are having a moment in pop culture. Second, when I joined the society, it was made abundantly clear that if I fucked up, they would ruin my life in creative ways, up to and including my death.”

“Yeah, but don’t you think they’d be…sneakier about it? I think they’d poison her in a way that would make it look like a heart attack or brain aneurysm. No one would know it was murder.”

“That’s so evil…” Brennon breathed. “I love you.” He’d meant it as a joke, but the moment the words were out, he and Izabel both froze. They stared at one another, then glanced toward Rowan, who was looking out the window, probably checking to make sure the guards were still doing their rounds, and no one looked like they were on high alert.

Brennon already had an arm around her waist, so it was easy to tug her closer, turn her so they were face-to-face.

“Brennon, now doesn’t feel like a good time for an emotional moment.”

“It could be if we changed the music. Something swelling and orchestral. Preferably by John Williams.”

Izabel smiled and cupped his cheek with one hand, her dark eyes half-lidded as her attention slid down to his lips. Brennon held his breath, decided to let her make the first move. He was going to hold perfectly still and let her kiss him if she wanted to.

The sound of a door opening had them springing apart, as if they’d been caught doing something they shouldn’t.

Well, they probably shouldn’t have been almost kissing when they were supposed to be watching the bad guys.

Juliette shot him an arched look as she took her seat on the couch across from the captives.

Brennon and Izabel returned to their original places. He felt like a bodyguard or thug. It would have worked a lot better if he weren’t battered and bruised. Also, if he had cool black shades.

Brennon grabbed one wrist with the opposite hand and tried to look menacing.

“Sally Ann Morgan was shot in a hotel room seventeen years ago,” Juliette said. “And you, Reverend Morgan, were with her at the time. You returned fire, supposedly scaring off the intruder.”

TiffaniGrace’s chin went up. “It was you. Your society shot her.”

Juliette leaned forward. “Why? Why would we kill her?”

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