Sins of the Mother by August Norman

Author:August Norman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CROOKED LANE BOOKS

CHAPTER

33

THREE OF THE Guardians surrounded Desmond in a close formation, clearing the halls of the main house and ushering him into the living room of his suite.

One of the well-armed women remained by his side; the other two stood in the hall, ready to die protecting his life.

Desmond paced, nervous not about his survival, for the early reports said the attack had been resolved, but because the foundation of everything he’d built was crumbling.

His guard handed him a walkie-talkie. “Gwendolyn.”

Desmond took the radio to the bedroom, closing the door behind him. “Sunrise, go secure.”

He switched the radio’s channel setting and waited.

Gwendolyn chimed in. “Desmond, are you safe?”

He ignored the question. “Who attacked us? Is it Larsen?”

“We don’t know. Whoever it was only hit the motor pool, then left.”

Desmond ran his fingers through his hair, grabbing a bit and yanking. “But the lights. Why did we lose half the lights?”

“Some circuit breakers tripped. They’re back up now.”

He let go of his hair, then tapped his fingertips against the side of his head.

Think, damn it. Control this situation or you lose it all.

“What about the fire?” he said, trying to sound collected.

“Contained, but we lost most of the town cars, and the water it took to put the fire down drained tank number two.”

Desmond threw the radio against his bed and let every swear he’d been holding back for the last two decades escape in a torrent, then picked up the walkie again.

“Is the Jeep okay?”

“Which one?”

“The only Jeep we have, darling.”

“Desmond, I know very well we have two white Jeep Wranglers. I purchased both last year—”

“Were the Jeeps harmed in the fire, Gwendolyn?”

“No,” she answered. Then, “Wait. I’ve been told there’s only one on-site. Where could the other have gone?”

Desmond’s hand covered his mouth and the response that wanted to come out. The other vehicle, Daya’s Jeep, had been gone as long as she had.

He took a breath and started again. “Gwendolyn, is there still one Jeep in working order on the hill? Yes or no?”

“Yes,” she said, “and two of the tractors were untouched. Do you think the attacker took the other Jeep?”

He rolled his neck from side to side. “Belongings are unimportant. The safety of the Daughters is paramount. Double the number of Guardians.”

“Already done.”

“Of course it is. True to your name, Sunrise, you bring the good news of rebirth once again.”

Gwendolyn didn’t have Daya’s unflinching steel or Magda’s sexual energy, but she lived to serve.

“One more thing,” she added, “and I’m sad to say it isn’t good news—”

“Just say it.”

“Caitlin Bergman is gone.”

“As in, she ran away?”

Desmond let up on the radio’s send button and heard the sound of Gwendolyn’s wooden beads clacking together.

“Sorry, Desmond. We just don’t know.”

He let the radio drop onto his bed. The plastic receiver bounced once, flipped over, then rolled off the side of the comforter, hitting the carpet.

“Fuck me,” he said, heading toward his bathroom. He undid the sash around his waist, dropped his sarong, and sat on the toilet with his eyes closed, waiting for any type of relief.

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