Page 95 of Stolen Faith

“Daddy, I…”

“TiffaniGrace, get out of there.” Jonah reached around behind his back, grabbed her, and yanked her out in front of him.

Juliette braced herself because a wave of vertigo nearly brought her to her knees. She staggered, and Izabel rushed over, wrapping an arm around her to keep her up.

Juliette’s head cleared as Izabel pressed against a particularly vicious whip mark and pain shot through her.

“You know what,” Devon said. “I think we can work this out, don’t you, Reverend? If we all just sit down and talk?”

“Yes, yes.” Jonah nodded.

Juliette wanted to tell Devon not to stop. To follow through and drag TiffaniGrace into the bathroom, torture the information out of her. But she knew her husband, and right now he was focused on her, and would be until he could be sure she was okay. He wouldn’t risk split focus.

Brennon helped Rowan get the Morgans seated and restrained, taping them to wingback chairs with their arms against their sides. Juliette took a seat on the small love seat.

The calm feeling of being in control had faded. She was highly aware they were on borrowed time. Eventually someone would check the cells and realize they were gone or try to contact Barry and realize he was missing.

Whichever came first, the result would be the same. Someone would come to the door trying to talk to either TiffaniGrace or Jonah.

Once she was seated, everyone else found their own places. Rowan put a chair up against the wall by the door, then knelt. He created a makeshift door wedge out of an ornate Bible study guide—written by Morgan, of course. The door was locked from the inside, but the doorstop would make it hard to open, even if it was unlocked.

Rowan stood—slowly, like it hurt—and sat in his chair near the door. Izabel was perched on Jonah’s desk, and Brennon was behind the desk methodically going through Jonah’s drawers. He was also using Morgan’s cell phone, which Devon had given him, to take pictures of documents.

“Stop that!” Jonah roared, watching Brennon.

Interesting that this was the most panicked she’d seen him. What was in that desk?

“Not so loud,” Juliette told him. The man had only one volume and it was making her head hurt.

“I’ll be as loud as I—”

Juliette looked at Devon, who walked over and casually slapped Jonah. The other man’s head snapped back.

TiffaniGrace screamed.

“Quiet,” Devon said to TiffaniGrace, then slapped Jonah again.

TiffaniGrace choked back a scream, whisper-sobbing, “Daddy!”

“It was a slap, get it together, bitch,” Izabel told the dramatically sobbing TiffaniGrace.

“Prescription pain pills.” Brennon held up an amber bottle with a white lid. “Who wants one? Oh, and surprise-surprise. This isn’t the good reverend’s name on the label.”

“You hurt him!” TiffaniGrace sobbed.

“Your boyfriend tortured us.” Izabel was staring at her with a look best described as “are you really this stupid?”

“You’re sinners, deviants, perverts!”

“Enough,” Juliette said, voice raised to cut through the incessant babble. She should ask about the why and how. Those were the important questions, but she’d been thinking about the hired mercenaries and about Reverend Morgan’s reaction.

“Tiffani,” Juliette asked. “Where did Barry get the money?”

Jonah went ramrod stiff.

TiffaniGrace bared her teeth. “My name is TiffaniGrace!”

Devon, seated beside her, grinned, realizing immediately where she was going with this.

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