Chapter 21 #2
“He plans to run for the Class 1 senate election in 2024 but is currently the head of Reformation Church.” The slide changed to an image of a group of men standing in front of what looked to be a church.
“This is Reformation Church. Founders of a right-wing revival known as The Reformation Movement. Their slogan is ‘Restore our Values: Bring Back the True American Spirit—Men Lead, Women Nurture’. They are a fringe religious-conservative group focused on putting women back in the kitchen so to speak.”
He clicked to the next slide.
“Kit Walsh is the son of the founder of The Reformation Movement, or RM for short. His father, Alec Walsh, was a Southern Baptist pastor who started the movement about thirty years ago. It didn’t pick up much national traction until Kit took over the church about twelve years ago.
It has since flourished, and they’ve got satellite churches across the country.
Kit Walsh, like I said, is the current head of the only Reformation Church in the state of Texas. ”
I raised a brow, wondering how the hell I was going to factor into any of this.
“So, what’s this got to do with me?”
“Well, Kit Walsh will be leaving his role as head of the church next year to start his campaign.”
“Again…what the hell does this have to do with me?”
The man sighed, getting annoyed by my constant interruptions.
“He’ll be leaving his position to his son, Theodore Walsh.
” Theodore’s image appeared on the screen, a younger, handsomer version of his father.
“Now, Theodore is currently single, but according to sources, he needs to be married before he can take his position as head of this church.”
My stomach dropped. No. No fucking way.
“Now we know what he’s looking for, who his church typically recruits. And you will be just that. A young, impressionable woman that the church can take under its wings. We’re hoping that under the right circumstances you’ll be able to move within his circle and marry him.”
“You’re joking, right?” I stared, jaw slack with shock at Carlos.
Carlos nodded before speaking up. “Now, we don’t know yet if you would even be selected to be the wife of Theodore, but you are the perfect person to infiltrate his circle as a new church member.”
I blinked, licking my chapped lips and eyeing the image of Theodore.
“But you want me to marry this guy?”
Carlos drummed his fingers across the tabletop for a moment. “Ideally, yes.”
I swallowed. Shit.
“Are these…bad people? I mean, am I going to be in danger?”
Carlos chuckled and shook his head. “No. They are just a bunch of conservative Christians. While they hold some extreme views compared to our popular culture today, they’re harmless.”
I nodded. Safe. I could be safe with these people.
“Why do you want me to leave Los Siete?”
Carlos shook his head slowly, his eyes narrowing.
“Sweetheart, you’ll always be mine, ours. A member of this family until the day you die. You might be living with these other people, married to one of them, but don’t think for a second that I won’t still need you.”
My nails dug into my thighs. Maybe I’d be safer with this church than here. If I could get one of these men to love me, then maybe they’d protect me from Carlos.
“So, what do I have to do?”
“Well, first step is to get you two to cross paths. There is a church outreach event coming up next week at a women and children’s shelter. We’ve confirmed that Theodore and Kit will both be there as this shelter is one of many partially funded by the church.”
I nodded, reaching for the folder that Carlos passed to me. I flipped it open, skimming through lines of information regarding an Olivia Lane.
“That’s you. You’ll be Olivia Lane, with a full paper and online footprint already in place to support your identity,” Adrian said. Well, now I knew why he was here. Sabueso.
Olivia Lane was nineteen, born July 8, 2002 in San Antonio, Texas.
Her parents and brother were killed in a house fire at their home in Windcrest, a suburb of San Antonio.
Olivia obtained damage to her ocular region during the house fire which resulted in scarring and adverse reactions to her tears.
She was currently unemployed and couch surfing between friends and various homeless shelters.
I reread the information several times, taking it all in, and trying to create the image of this person in my mind. How the hell were they expecting me to be someone I wasn’t?
I found myself shaking my leg with nerves.
“So, I’ll meet the Walsh family at this shelter. And what exactly am I supposed to do? Charm my way into Theodore’s life?”
The man with the beard who had yet to speak, nodded in agreement.
“Yes, that’s about right. Theodore, Kit and his wife Marissa will all be at the event.
It’s going to be a meal with gifts for the residents.
Obviously, we will want to rehearse what you say and topics to avoid and others which you’ll have the best luck of catching his attention with. ”
“I can’t just show up to the event though. How long will I have to stay there until the event?”
“Only one night. The event is on the 8th,” Carlos answered. “You’ll have a burner phone with you which we will be able to communicate with you on. Otherwise, you’ll be going in alone. We don’t want there to be any suspicion or doubt in their minds that you aren’t who you say you are.”
I blew out a deep breath, my lips vibrating. My stomach was beginning to churn with anxiety. How the fuck was Carlos expecting him to be interested in me? He was at least ten years my senior, and I was ugly and had the worst case of resting bitch face.
“So, what exactly do you want me to achieve by meeting them?”
The man leaned forward in his seat to address me. “We want you to simply be curious and perhaps spark a note of recognition when they see you attending one of their church services.”
“So, you just want me to talk to them?”
“Yes,” the other man nodded. “This is a long game here. We’re not expecting them to poach you right away to join their church, but we just want to get you on their radar.”
My mind was struggling to comprehend that this was actually happening.
“And you really think that Theodore’s going to be interested in me?”
“Yes. This church is known for ‘evangelizing’ to a certain population. You fit the profile to a T. You’re young, have a backstory that makes you easy to manipulate emotionally, and you’re attractive enough that it would be easy to find someone interested in marrying you within the church.
Again, we’re hopeful that it can be Theodore. ”
“And if it’s not?” I asked Carlos.
Carlos’s jaw ticked with tension, and he gave me a look that told me that wasn’t an option.
Fuck.
I spent three hours with the men who I still didn’t know the names of.
We practiced scenarios, rehearsed various responses and questions I should ask.
They made it sound so simple—meet one of the church leaders present at the event (preferably Theodore), play a traumatized and pathetic girl looking for a sense of purpose, and then I’d be swept up into their grip and on my way to getting married.
When the two men left, I lingered, eyeing Carlos.
“Why do you need me to marry this guy?”
“We need leverage before we fund his campaign. You will be that leverage.”
“I don’t understand. You want me to spy on them or something?”
Carlos shook his head. “No. It’s more of an insurance policy.
We plan to fund his campaign so that when the time comes, we have him pushing policies and legislature that aligns with our interests.
But, as Logan said, this is a long game.
If you’re already implanted in their lives, we won’t have an issue when it comes to putting pressure. ”
“Like a threat?”
Carlos nodded with a smile. “Smart girl.”
Fuck, they want to use me as bait.
“Why are you sending me? I may be able to lie, but I’m not a fucking actress.”
“Sweetheart, why do you have so much trouble seeing your own potential? You don’t need to be an actress to marry someone.
You just follow along with their little religious idiosyncrasies, and you may actually find yourself in love one day.
It’d do you good to smile a little more, but otherwise, Shiloh, you’re perfect as you are.
As I said earlier, they want someone just like you.
You don’t see it, but your condition with your eyes really works to our advantage here.
It gives you an air of fragility that these types of people like to use.
They want to save you, and who better to save than a young and seemingly broken woman. ”
I blinked. Well, he had me there. I guess it didn’t matter what I looked like so long as they thought I was in need of saving.
“What if I don’t want to do this?” I asked.
He tilted his head, studying me like he might actually be thinking about offering me an alternative. I crossed my fingers in my lap.
“I don’t care what you want, Shiloh. You joined this family.
You took an oath to be loyal. I thought you’d be happy.
What was it you said? ‘Don’t turn me into one of your prostitutes.
’” Carlos paused to chuckle, motioning to Adrian to get him a drink.
“If you can pull this off, you’ll be living the rest of your days as a housewife for the son of a wealthy politician. ”
My jaw clenched with frustration as I watched him sip the liquor that Adrian had poured from a bar cart in the corner of the room.
“And if I don’t marry Theodore? What will you do?”
Carlos smiled, but it was anything but kind. “Don’t worry, your value isn’t limited to this job.”
Fuck. Would he sell me to work in one of his clubs? Kill me? I was completely fucked if I couldn’t make this Theodore guy fall for me.
He waved his hand in dismissal and Adrian clutched my bicep to pull me up from my seat when I didn’t move.
Adrian drove us home. He let the radio fill the silence until my curiosity won.
“Was my brother always an arreglador?”
He looked over at me, studying my face like he was looking for something. Adrian turned his attention back to the road and nodded.
“He started as a matón, but he outgrew that position and moved onto an arreglador.”
“And what exactly did he do?”
Adrian seemed hesitant to answer. “Well…it’s in the name. He fixed problems. In whatever manner Carlos deemed necessary.”
“So, he tortured people?”
“Sometimes,” he shrugged. “But the end result was always the same. Death.”
I shook my head to myself. He murdered people. Murdered people. For years. My stomach twisted.
“What was he like?”
“Um, honestly, he was pretty scary,” Adrian chuckled humorlessly. “Like, he could flip on a dime. He’d be laughing and cracking sick jokes and then the next minute he was serious and beating the shit out of someone. I didn’t tend to spend much time around him whenever I did cross his path.”
“Did he seem like he liked it?”
My stomach twisted with nerves. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know the answer, yet I couldn’t have stopped myself from asking. Adrian was silent for a long time, and dread settled into my belly. God, was he a psychopath and I just never saw the signs?
“I don’t know. He never seemed to dislike it.
The times where I did witness him…working, he didn’t seem too fucked in the head over it.
He kind of seemed to get off on it afterwards.
Like he’d be fucking buzzing when he walked away.
Kind of giddy. He could’ve been on something, though.
I don’t know if he was just really good at masking or became numb to it that he didn’t really care, or… ”
He trailed off and the music filled the tense silence.
“Do you think that he was a good person?”
Adrian hummed in thought. “I mean, I think that’s pretty relative.
Do I think he was a good arreglador? Yes.
Do I think that he was a good brother? I think only you can answer that, Shiloh.
I think it’s hard to classify a person as solely good or bad.
There’s a lot of gray areas. I think everyone can be both good and bad. ”
We didn’t speak for the rest of the drive.
When I entered my apartment, the heavy, lingering scent of Javier felt toxic.
I hated that even though he was dead he was still testing me.
It was a struggle to keep the tears at bay when every inch of the space reminded me of just how little I knew my brother.
As I curled up in bed that night dressed in some of Enoch’s clothes I had borrowed weeks ago, I was longing for my friend.
A longing I didn’t like feeling but couldn’t shake no matter how much I persuaded myself that I didn’t need Enoch.
I was getting attached, a foreign emotion that made me feel vulnerable.
Attachment would only lead to heartbreak if I actually had to marry this stranger.
He’s leaving for the military anyway, Shiloh. You might as well be the first to go so you don’t have to say goodbye.