Free Beyond Fearless by REBECCA YORK Page B

acting like he could do the Vulcan mind-meld or something. Although she wasn’t so sure his beetle-browed look had any effect on reality, she had learned to live with the religious mumbo jumbo.
    Now there was that other woman to consider. One night Nadine had walked down to the art gallery and heard Raoul and his friend Etienne discussing business. He’d asked the club owner to hire the woman, and now she was here, working a “mind reading” act down at the Sugar Cane Club.
    Maybe it was Nadine’s duty to save the woman from Raoul. Or maybe she’d better keep the hell out of it—if she didn’t want to end up like one of those chickens with its neck wrung.
    When she’d dressed modestly in white capris and a loose-fitting white shirt, she left the house and headed for the marketplace.
    She had reached the corner when she saw a dark-skinned, bald-headed man with a neatly trimmed beard walking toward her. Going stock-still, she wondered what she was going to do or say.
    She knew who he was.
    Joseph Hondino, the most influential Vadiana priest on the island. Raoul had pointed him out and talked about Hondino from time to time. He’d sneered at the old man because he had a completely different view of the religion.
    But there were aspects of the worship practices that gave Nadine the creeps. No matter who was sacrificing chickens and goats for whatever reasons, she didn’t go for that kind of stuff. In her mind, it was worse to kill them than to have sex on the altar—the way Raoul liked to worship with her.
    Probably Hondino had the opposite opinion. Still, from what she gathered, the older man had a sense of morality that Raoul completely lacked. And in Raoul’s mind, that made the priest a chump. He should be out for what he could get. He should be consolidating his power and getting ready to rule the island.
    But maybe he couldn’t. Maybe Pagor and Ibena and the other saints were on Raoul’s side.
    All that flashed through her mind before the man said, “How are you?”
    â€œI’m fine.”
    â€œMaybe I can help you.”
    â€œHow?”
    â€œAre you frightened?”
    â€œNo!”
    He gave her a considering look, and she felt like he could see into her head.
    â€œI think you’re lying to me—or to yourself.”
    As the priest studied her, she struggled not to squirm.
    â€œI see you’re not ready to ask for my help. But you will be. I think you’ll know when the time is right. You know where to find me?”
    â€œI…”
    â€œMy house is the yellow one with the purple bougainvillea in the front yard. And the old stone altar—made from ships’ ballast. You know the one?”
    She answered with a tight nod.
    â€œDon’t be afraid to come to me when you feel the world closing in on you.”
    She swallowed and looked furtively around to make sure nobody was watching them. If Raoul found out she’d said anything at all to this guy, he’d be furious. Without another word, she walked quickly toward the market, praying that nobody was going to report this meeting on the street to Raoul.
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    ANNA had vowed to sleep late, but once she woke from the dream about Zachary Robinson, it was impossible to go back to sleep. She lay in bed, thinking about him, adding details about his life—and then pondering the strange fantasy she’d experienced just before she’d gone on stage last night. When the two of them had been together.
    Yes, the two of them. Because when she dared to be honest with herself, she knew that he had been the man holding her in his arms. But he hadn’t been the only one there. Another man had been hovering in the background, watching them, his anger simmering. And he had yanked them back to reality.
    She grabbed two wads of sheets to keep her hands from shaking.
    What did it mean?
    The fantasy—and the dream?
    She’d felt like she’d been dragged into the