Cell phones were useful, but the government was on the hunt. The libtards were sure the authorities didn’t eavesdrop, but Nabera knew better. The Feds spied on everyone.
His mouth twisted in bitter memory of the phone call he’d gotten last week. His men had been cautious with their wording, but the meaning was clear. The three men sent to retrieve the Patriot’s emergency cash had been ambushed by an overwhelming force of at least ten heavily armed men. The money was gone, and his men had been shot. Even worse, they’d had to draw from their limited funds. The doctor had to be bribed not to notify law enforcement of firearm injuries.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Nabera tugged on his black beard, frustration growing. What else could go wrong?
Word had reached him from Texas. The Prophet was still in jail, awaiting trial, and spending money on lawyers and bribes.
Nabera had really needed the money from the cave.
Then again, at least he was comfortable. The Prophet was locked up with no comforts. No women.
Both of them had enjoyed the rewards of being at the top with all the women available for their use. Nabera had been given the right to punish the unholy and disobedient. Sex was most enjoyable when accompanied by screams, sobs, and pleading.
Sometimes even death.
“Captain. How are you, sir?” Luka entered the kitchen.
“Good.” Nabera looked him over.
His lieutenant had let his black buzz-cut hair grow. It was now trimmed in a modern style. Clean shaven, as usual, he wore jeans and a T-shirt with a rock band logo.
“You look like an Anchorage college student.” Nabera’s nod of approval made the man stand straighter. “What was so urgent you needed to see me today?”
After discovering their children and traitorous females were at a bleeding-heart women’s shelter, Nabera had assigned Luka to charm one of the facility’s volunteers. The dark-haired man had a way with women, and he’d been feeding the female a steady diet of sex and drugs.
“It’s about the women’s shelter. There’s a limit to how long anyone can stay in the facility, and the time is up for our bitches.”
“Is it now…” Nabera stroked his beard. He wanted to make examples of them, to show the Texas sluts what would happen if they testified. Once out of the shelter, he could get to them quite easily. “Good.”
“Maybe not. Only a few are staying in Alaska and moving to reduced income housing while they find jobs. The rest are leaving the state to move in with relatives, wherever they are. Most are flying out tomorrow.”
“Shit.” Nabera scowled. “Then we need to act today.” He reached for his cell phone.
“Yes, sir.” Luka frowned. “One other thing.”
“Yeah, speak up.”
“Obadiah’s woman—she’s supposed to show up this afternoon at two. Probably to say goodbye to the rest of them.”
“Kirsten.” The hot rage hit Nabera so quickly that it felt as if he’d dropped into a lake of lava. “That traitorous bitch.”
Luka’s expression held the same anger. “The cunt destroyed our lives. Got Obadiah killed.”
Somehow, the slut had sent word to a friend about the Zealots. The bitch friend arranged for her lover and others to break into the compound. Not only had Kirsten escaped, so had the children and most of the women. The traitorous cunts had spilled their guts to the Feds.
It was Kirsten’s fault that Parrish was in prison. Nabera had sworn he would see her dead even if it took his entire fucking life.
Now he had his chance.
And even better… “If she’s there to see the others, they’ll be gathered in one place. Is there a way to get in?”
“It’s a women’s shelter so they have good security. Cameras, alarms. But”—Luka smirked—“if I tell Arella I’m going out of town and offer some ecstasy and a quickie, she’ll let me in the side door. The staff turned off the alarm on that door so they can go outside and smoke.”
This was his smartest lieutenant. “Go on.”
“I’ll knock Arella out and take care of the desk receptionist. Once I shut down the security system, our men can just waltz in the front.”
“I like it,” Nabera said. “Set it up, and I’ll call in the men.”
“Maybe we can get the children back.”
“Perhaps.” Children would be a pain in the ass. But some of his men wanted their offspring. “We will for certain make an example of the women.”
A spectacle of the horrifying, gory deaths of the Alaska PZ women would ensure the Texas women would be too cowed to testify.
Nabera smiled. “Our Prophet will be pleased.”
And there would be all the screaming a man’s vindictive heart could desire.
Holding the oversized tote that Frankie lent her, Kit shut her emotions down tight as she waited in a side room for the shelter worker to finish talking to her aide.
Instead, she gazed out a window at a tiny children’s playground. It would be nicely safe. Before entering the shelter, she’d seen the corner lot was completely enclosed by an eight-foot privacy fence.
“Ready to go?” The staff worker joined her.
Kit motioned to the playground. “I see you used privet hedges to make a dedicated space for the children?”
The volunteer said, “We have plenty of small private spaces with the hedges to divide them up. Like here, the only way into a space is through a house door.”
“Other spaces outside?” Kit tilted her head. The little children’s area was adorable. What else might they have?
“You bet. We have a couple of secluded garden meditation rooms, a small veggie garden and greenhouse, and a big lawn area for kickball and games.”
“That’s awesome.” When using the tiny garden in the rehab facility, she’d always wished it had been more private. “Your residents are lucky to have you.”
“Thank you.” The worker smiled. “Let me show you the room where your friends are gathered.
“Right.” As memories of the PZs filled her, Kit shivered, wishing she could have stayed with Hawk, Aric, Bull, and Frankie. They’d dropped her off and gone to have lunch at Bull’s restaurant here in Anchorage. They’d be back later to pick Kit up.
Kit followed the woman to the back of the huge two-story house. The hallway held the strong scent of a cleanser—and the lingering stink of vomit. Not a surprising smell.
How often had she puked as she’d tried to process everything that’d happened to her?
“Everyone is in here.” The volunteer waved Kit into a spacious room filled with armchairs and couches. Children played quietly in one corner.
The center of the room was filled with women. Standing in groups of three and four, they stared at her. No one was familiar.
No, wait.
Slowly, she recognized features.
Miriam’s big nose.
Serena’s brown eyes. But she was wearing makeup, and the eye shadow and mascara made her eyes huge.
Mary’s gray hair. Rather than to her waist, it was now in an attractive short bob.
Everyone looked different. Of course they did. There were no ankle-length dark skirts or long-sleeved blouses. No long hair pulled into buns. Instead, they wore colorful T-shirts and jeans. Some had on makeup. Hair was in a range of styles and new colors.