Free Through a Glass, Darkly (Assassins of Youth MC #1) by Layla Wolfe Page B

shy she could barely look at me. “Well, I’m a bit of a neophyte when it comes to the male form, unfortunately. I’m more experienced with critters and flowers. Have you seen any of the other boys?”
    “There are what you might call pods of them, up in Salt Lake, Park City, Bountiful. They move in herds and run whenever the cops scare them off. Some have gotten good jobs, like Mr. Fortunati said, in construction, since we learned to build things when we were young. But some have, well, turned to more basic ways of earning a living.” He shrugged, not very affected by the sordid nature of some lifestyles. “It is our only option.”
    The front doors swung open and Bronson Carradine entered. His cowboy background was in full flower today, as he swaggered in wearing a ten gallon hat and the aforementioned mirrored shades. It was then that I realized what Mahalia was doing here. She didn’t stop in for a 7 Up. She was here to see that sleazebag with the bad comb over.
    I’d never seen him smile that widely. He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and grinned like a moron at us, but mostly at Mahalia. “Gideon. Dingo. Mahalia. Shall we sit over here?”
    I got the picture. Whatever business they had together was none of my concern, and they moved to another table. The last thing I said to her was, “Don’t forget. I’ll get those items for you from our clubhouse.”
    “That’d be nice,” she said pleasantly.
    Then there was no more excuse for me to stay with her. Besides, it was time for me to go meet my mine foreman. He knew a guy who knew a gal here in Avalanche who had a few houses for rent. Papa Ewey had agreed that maybe it would be frugal if I just went ahead and did that.
    Regretfully, I left the bar, bringing Dingo with me. I looked back once to see if Mahalia was watching me, and sure enough, she was. She was pretending to be hanging onto every one of Carradine’s words, but I knew she would rather be with me. It was obvious. To me, anyway.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    MAHALIA
    I did not want to send that sensual, rugged man away. I had no choice. I’d agreed to meet with Bronson Carradine and so here I was, sitting next to one man while pining for the closeness of the other.
    The excitement I’d felt at sitting so close to Gideon Fortunati told me that I had a destiny with him. Shivers like the licking of tiny birds raced all up my arms, raising gooseflesh on my neck and stiffening my nipples under the flimsy covering of my red dress. Gideon’s sinewy strength just inches from my bare skin had an illicit, forbidden feeling. Masturbation wasn’t something us wives did often, seeing as how we weren’t alone much, but I knew that when I got home I’d find my tiny vibe, hidden between the folds of some drab black cotton stockings, and closet myself away from the world. I didn’t know if I could respond any longer to the sexual urgings of the tiny little motor—it had been so long I’d been deadening my senses to Allred. I’d been sneaking and taking birth control pills on the sly. Lord knew what would happen to me if that was found out.
    I’d think only of Gideon, his rich reddish auburn hair that looked so soft, like a bird’s down, the sensuous curve of his lips, the pleading I saw in his crinkled, smiling eyes. A cascade of Asian tattoos swirled around his neck and arms, pink lilies and violet hummingbirds.
    After some chit-chat, Bronson got down to brass tacks. “You said there might be some disaffection going on in your village. People who want out, people who might be willing to help us. You said many men have been disappearing.”
    I already noticed the bartender giving us the evil eye. I could tell that Skippy didn’t like Bronson. And probably didn’t like me. “Yes. Men of marrying age have been vanishing. They keep saying it’s to our Texas compound, but who has ever returned from there to testify? And one day, very early in the morning when I was leaving for a meeting in Cedar City, I