Lindsey’s Wolves(80)

Lindsey cringed and leaped toward her friend, but in a flash, the leader of this absurd excuse for religion grabbed her by both arms and pulled her toward the altar.

Lindsey twisted her neck and watched as Jess frantically struggled to upright herself and ran helter skelter toward the back of the church.

The long marble slab on the raised dais drew Lindsey’s attention. Why hadn’t she ever really looked at it before? It was reminiscent of what her ancestors probably used to make a human sacrifice and she prayed today her life would not end in the same manner.

At the altar, Lindsey recognized the older gentleman standing in wait from her childhood. She couldn’t remember his name, but it didn’t matter.

Next to him stood a woman she didn’t know, her head bowed in submission. She mumbled toward the floor what Lindsey soon realized was a constant stream of prayer. She wondered briefly what exactly the lady might be praying for? Lindsey’s redemption? Her own? Or perhaps something more sinister?

“Brother Frank Wellington,” Pastor Stone began, “your intended, Sister Mary Martha.” Stone jerked on Lindsey’s arm and nodded in her direction.

Fuck you.

The grip on her arm started to smart. She’d have a big bruise tomorrow. I hope that’s all I get out of the farce.

Two men growled in her head. She could sense their need to pummel the asshole for laying a hand on her.

Frank was about sixty. Didn’t he already have a wife? She cringed.

Her chest pounded as Stone began to recite the absurd wedding ritual customary among his flock.

It doesn’t matter. They’re just words. They mean nothing and hold no weight legally, she repeated to herself.

Lindsey concentrated on Alex and Ryan, flooding them with thoughts of her love, tuning out Stone’s ceremonial words.

“…I now pronounce you man and wife.”

Lindsey jerked her gaze to Stone’s smug look of victory as he released her arm and literally handed her over to the older man. “Wellington, I don’t envy you. You’ll need a firm hand and a thick belt to turn this harlot back down the path of righteousness. God speed. Take heed of my advice earlier.” He raised his eyebrows and then sauntered out a side door.

“Stone went out the West door. My new ‘husband’ is leading me bodily toward the front door. There’s another woman here, but she hasn’t moved. She’s at the altar, demurely praying to her vindictive God.” How on earth Ryan and Alex were going to relay that info to the cops without raising a few eyebrows she didn’t have time to ponder.

“Got it.”

Hammond spoke in her ear. “Miss Walters? I’m assuming you are on the way out?”

She coughed once, her sign for yes.

“The front?”

Another single cough.

Wellington hadn’t spoken a single word yet. She glanced up at him to see his lips pursed tight, his brow furrowed. Was he worried? He should be.

Picking up speed, he hastened down the aisle, out the front door, and toward the blue, four-door sedan the cops had blessedly assumed would be their method of escape.

Halfway down the sidewalk, the show began. “Stop where you are! Hands in the air. Release the woman.” Cops descended from every direction.

Lindsey yanked free of her captor and ducked to the ground as planned. She crawled as fast as she could away from the danger zone. The rough concrete dug into her palms and knees, but she didn’t stop.

A stunned Wellington spun in a circle, his eyes wide, his arms raised. The poor bastard had no idea what was happening or even that he’d broken the law.

Ryan and Alex rounded the building across the street and sprinted toward her as she darted their direction at the same time. In midair they caught her and spun back to the motel. Her feet never hit the ground after she was in their arms, unsure which of them was the one actually carting her away.

They were a tangle of heavy breathing and determination.

They headed straight for the corner unit of the motel, the prearranged meeting place, shoved the door open from its position ajar, scrambled inside, and slammed the three of them into the dank, hazy room. Only then did they set Lindsey on her feet.

She leaned forward to catch her breath, hands on her knees.

“You okay?” Alex pulled her back upright. Four hands patted her from head to toe.

“I’m fine.” Or not. Tears flooded her eyes and ran down her cheeks. Even with the curtains drawn, making the light dim, she could see the relief on both men’s faces. Their breathing slowed, their shoulders lowered.

“Don’t you ever scare the hell out of us like that again, you hear?” Ryan narrowed his eyes at her, one side of his mouth raised in a smirk.

Oh, yeah, because I planned this as an entertaining outing for the week.