Biding His Thyme: 4 Page 2

“Bitter, aren’t you almost twenty-five?” one of the men asked. “No one will want to fuck you. You’re too fat and ugly.”

  Sorrel knew better than to show any outward reaction. It would goad them to greater cruelty. She should be used to the way they treated her with disdain because of her appearance yet, stars, it hurt. They thought they were so clever, taking the literal meaning of Sorrel and using it to taunt her.

  Bitter.

  Bitter Thyme.

  The wit who’d rechristened her Bitter thought the new name fit so well, he’d told everyone, and the wretched nickname had stuck.

  “Go,” the first man said. “You must have chores to perform.”

  Sorrel blinked once, twice. Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. It would give the men another weapon to taunt her.

  Keeping her head bowed, Sorrel turned away from the food, ignoring the hunger pangs twisting her stomach. She’d set herself on this path and mustn’t falter now.

  Without thinking about her destination, she found herself back at the workroom across the other side of the compound, where she made soap and creams and various other items to sell in the shop in town. Dried herbs and flowers hung from the ceiling in tight bunches, their colors faded while their scents perfumed the air with lavender, rose, rosemary and marigold.

  Today she was making lavender bath bombs and bath salts. Her stomach let out a rumble, the pangs of hunger so bad they were painful. She hurried to the sink and poured herself a glass of water, hoping to trick her stomach into thinking it was full. She was halfway through a second glass before a prickle of awareness identified another presence in her workroom. Stomach churning, she turned to face the new arrival.

  One of the women.

  Some of the tension lifted from her shoulders. “Can I help you with something, Sister Marigold?”

  Sister Marigold, the elderly woman who was in charge of the cult shop, glanced over her shoulder before entering. “I brought you something to eat.” She extended a piece of fresh bread and a hunk of cheese. “It’s not right, the way they treat you and make you miss meals. It’s not right.”

  The tears were back again. This time the emotion was gratitude instead of anger and fear. One small act of kindness was all it took.

  “I don’t want you to get into trouble,” Sorrel said, but she couldn’t stop herself from reaching for the single slice of fresh bread. It didn’t matter that she didn’t have butter or jam or a bowl of soup in which to dunk it.

  “It’s a risk I’m willing to take. Most of the other women agree with me. When you deliver the stock for the shop and the lunches for the women working there, you’ll find an extra one for you as often as I can manage it.” She glanced over her shoulder and leaned closer when she noticed two robed women heading in their direction. “Make sure you eat your lunch before you get back to the compound.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Sorrel said.

  “Quick. Eat before someone comes. Where are the supplies for the store? I’ll help you to load the handcart.”

  No longer protesting her hunger, she crammed the bread and hard cheese into her mouth, chewing rapidly. The faint yeastiness of the bread burst on her taste buds, the nuttiness of each bite following swiftly and contrasting with the sharpness of the cheddar cheese. It was the best thing she’d tasted for weeks.

  “Thank you,” she whispered when she was done.

  “Enough of that. You have friends among the women. Don’t ever forget it,” Sister Marigold said.

  Feeling infinitely happier, the hunger pangs assuaged for now, Sorrel pushed the handcart through the gates of the compound.

  “Are you sure you can manage, Sister Sor—Bitter?” one of the men guarding the gates asked.

  “Let her go,” the second man said with a jerk of his head. He was younger, taller, his manner superior, a duplicate of the other cult males. “Make sure you’re back before dusk.”

  “Of course,” she said in her agreeable tone, not raising her gaze to meet either of the men’s. Women were only fit for raising children and doing the work around the compound. Inside, her seething anger grew. Somehow, someway she would get away from the cult or die in the trying.

  She shoved the handcart along the track, the creak of the wheels an accompaniment to her thoughts. She needed to meet with Alice Bates and find a way to eat the meal Sister Marigold had arranged for her.

  The ruts on the track created the usual difficulties, but she manhandled the cart over and around, trying to make the trip to town quicker than normal to give her longer to undertake her own business. She slowed the handcart as she wheeled past the factory, pausing on the footpath to let James Bates pull his vehicle into the factory driveway. He saw her, his head dipping a fraction in acknowledgment.

  When she reached the store almost three-quarters of an hour after leaving the compound, a film of perspiration coated her skin. Ignoring her discomfort, she pushed the cart around to the rear of the store and knocked on the door.

  “Thank goodness you’re here. I’m starving.” Sister Jasmine was young and blonde with a curvy figure.

  “I’ll unpack your lunches in a moment,” Sorrel said.

  “Let me help you with the supplies,” Sister Jasmine said. “What have you brought us today?”

  Even though Sister Jasmine was popular and slept with any of the men who asked her, she was also sweet. Sorrel couldn’t help but like her, but she couldn’t agree with Sister Jasmine’s aim to fulfill her purpose as a woman and have children.

  Brainwashed.

  Most of the people who lived at the compound were under Brother Rick’s spell. They didn’t think twice about obeying his demands.

  Damn, what was wrong with her lately? Put this stuff out of your head and focus on the important things.

  Freedom.

  “I made lavender bath bombs this morning. Here’s a box.” Sorrel handed them over. “I’ve made some carnation body lotion and there’s plenty of sea salt and peppermint soap in there. I know that’s been popular.”

  “Super,” Sister Jasmine said. “Do you have some sample sizes?”

  “Of course,” Sorrel said, following Sister Jasmine into the rear of the store. She set the boxes down and went back for more. Soon the handcart was empty and the women had their lunches.

  “I’m off to collect eucalyptus leaves to use in my soap. They’re on the other side of town, so I’ll have to hurry because I need to be back at the farm before dusk.” Not too much information? Sorrel paused to check the women’s expressions, but none of them bore an ounce of suspicion. “Is there anything in particular you need me to make this week?”

  “The lavender soap is popular, and we’re almost out of the rose-scented cream,” one of the women said. Her gray hair was braided and hung down her back, almost reaching past her bottom.

  “I’ll make more this week,” Sorrel promised. “I’ll see you again later in the week.”

  “I’ll ask Brother Rick if you can come more often,” the woman said. “The products are selling well. We need more.”

  “I can’t make more and deliver them too,” Sorrel said.

  The woman reached over and patted Sorrel’s hand. “I’ll talk to Brother Rick. Perhaps he’ll assign you an assistant or maybe someone else could make the deliveries.”

  Alarm surfaced in Sorrel, but she bit back the hasty words forming on the tip of her tongue. She merely nodded and waved goodbye.

  There were spies everywhere within the compound. She couldn’t trust anyone—no matter how kind they were to her. An assistant around her workshop would make her plans for escape more difficult. It wouldn’t help her ongoing experiments with her special cream either.

  Aware of the passing time, Sorrel pushed her handcart through the town to the stand of eucalyptus trees. Hopefully James had alerted Alice to her arrival in town.

  Once she had the eucalyptus in sight, she glanced over her shoulder. She was alone. With trembling hands she reached into her handcart and pulled
out a packet of sandwiches.

  She unfolded the brown paper and almost moaned at the wonderful scent when she inspected the contents of the sandwich. Roast beef. She hadn’t had meat for months. There was never any left when they allowed her to eat.

  She bit into the bread and chewed, despite the urge to gobble it down. A small plastic bottle of homemade lemon drink and an apple rounded out her lunch, and she savored every bite.

  The sound of a vehicle approaching made her burst into action. She frantically wiped the crumbs from her mouth and thrust the bottle under the empty packages in her handcart.

  Then, she turned to face the music, prepared with excuses. Her shoulders slumped with relief when she recognized the woman climbing from the car. A second woman, tall and blonde, and one she’d seen with Alice before, climbed from the passenger side.

  “I need to collect some eucalyptus leaves to take back to the farm with me. Can we talk while I pick?” Sorrel asked.

  “That’s fine. Have you met Janaya? She’s married to Luke Morgan, head cop here in Sloan,” Alice said. “Janaya, this is Sorrel Thyme.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” Sorrel forced a smile at the beautiful blonde woman. Now that Alice had arrived, trepidation danced a Highland fling through her thoughts. What if this went pear-shaped? What if someone ended up getting hurt? Brother Rick was capable—no, she couldn’t think that way. “I’ve brought you a sample of my cream.” After a furtive glance around the area, Sorrel raised her robe and retrieved a small tub of cream from a concealed pocket. She handed it to Alice. “I can make more.”

  “The user rubs it where?” Alice asked.

  “Breasts and nipples, inner thighs and labia. The clitoris. There’s nothing in it to hurt or cause an allergic reaction, but I haven’t used the cream internally. External use seems enough to cause increased sexual awareness and desire. It should make a woman’s natural lubrication increase.” Sorrel was proud of her matter-of-fact explanation. Her cream was a great product—she knew it—and she was counting on her expertise with herbs, flowers and natural cosmetics to gain her freedom and escape from Children of Nature.

  “Great. I can’t wait to try it,” Alice said. “Normally I’d get you to sign documents, but we’ll have to work on trust this time. I give you my word that if this product is something we can use I’ll help you to leave the cult and give you the full credit you deserve. Janaya, you’re witness to our verbal agreement.”

  “Can I try some too?” Janaya’s violet eyes glowed with interest. “It sounds fun.”

  “Is there enough in the tub for more than one person?”

  Sorrel nodded, excitement and relief pumping through her now that she’d taken this step.

  “We wondered if you could do something for us in return,” Janaya said.

  “Me?” What could she do for these two women? They looked as if they had everything.

  Janaya stared at her intently, her eyes beautiful and mesmerizing. “My husband wants to get a man into your cult. How easy is it for someone to join?”

  Sorrel gaped at them. “Do they have a head injury?” Stars, she was trying to get out of the place.

  Alice laughed. “No, it’s a serious question.”

  “The cops want a man undercover at the compound?”

  “Yes,” Alice said.

  “Yes,” Janaya said.

  “What’s going on? No, wait.” Sorrel held up a hand. “I don’t want to know.”

  “Is it possible? How does a person join the cult?” Janaya asked.

  “Most people visit the compound and look around. If they’re impressed by what they see, they gift their property—their money and valuables—and move in. That’s the simple answer.”

  Janaya pursed her lips. “And the complicated answer?”

  “Brother Rick is the new leader. He hasn’t taken in new people since he’s become leader, but a decent amount of money might change his mind.”

  “How decent?” Alice asked.

  “I don’t know for sure, but maybe four or five thousand. It will depend on Brother Rick. This man—who is he? What are the cops looking for? What’s going on at the compound?” Curiosity got the better and questions tumbled out of her.

  “You haven’t seen anything illegal?” Janaya asked.

  Sorrel shook her head. “I spend my time making soaps and lotions to sell in the Children of Nature shop. If I’m not making stuff in my workshop I’m collecting herbs or flowers. I need to collect leaves now. I can’t be late.”

  “Show us what you need, and we’ll help,” Alice said.

  Sorrel dug out her clippers and started gathering leaves from the lower branches. The sharp scent of eucalyptus filled each breath and coated her bare hands.

  With the women’s help her handcart was soon full of leaves.

  “So you think our guy shouldn’t have any difficulty joining Children of Nature?” Janaya asked.

  “Brother Rick will interrogate him about his reasons for joining, but if he has money…” She shrugged in guise of finishing her sentence.

  “Good. We can work with that,” Janaya said.

  “My cream?” Sorrel was more interested in her future. “How long will it be before I know your decision?”

  “I’ll trial it and get back to you,” Alice said. “A few weeks maybe. If I see potential in the idea we’ll get you to come to the lab, and we’ll work on the recipe, refining it if necessary.”

  “A job?”

  “Or if you prefer we could buy the rights to the recipe outright,” Alice said. “But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. When are you delivering new stock to your shop?”

  “I go Mondays and Fridays, but they’re saying they need new stock more often. I’m finding it difficult to keep up with demand.”

  “We’ll watch for you and attempt a meeting when it’s doable,” Alice said.

  Sorrel nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Her hands trembled as she fastened elastic cords across the foliage to keep it in place during the trip back to the compound. “Thank you,” she managed. “I need to go.” She pushed the handcart up the incline without another word, excitement bursting free in a wide smile when she was sure neither of the women would see. She’d taken the first step, and now all she needed to do was trust in herself because she’d invented a dynamite product.

  Chapter Two

  Jake Ramsay had done some crazy shit in his time, but this idea was plain weird even for him. He stared at Louie Lithgow, one of his best friends who he’d served with in the SAS, New Zealand’s elite military unit. His gaze slid to Louie’s cop cousin, Luke Morgan, while he waited for one of them to break and crack a smile. This had to be a joke at his expense.

  Didn’t happen.

  He continued to stare at them without blinking. “You want me to what?”

  “I need someone undercover at the cult. If I don’t do something the local farmers are going to take matters into their own hands. Innocent people will get hurt,” Luke said.

  “Why is it my problem?” Jake asked, wanting to bite back the words as soon as they left his mouth. He was a soldier. It was his job to protect innocent people.

  “Luke needs your help,” Louie said. “You’re not doing anything apart from watching TV all day.”

  Jake’s top lip curled. Louie hadn’t mentioned the plethora of empty bottles littering his kitchen counter. “Haven’t you noticed my limp? I’m not fit to work. They’re telling me I have another three weeks of recuperation at least.”

  “That’s the beauty of this assignment,” Luke said. “The way you look now is perfect. With your long hair and scraggly beard you’ll fit right in. All you need to do is poke around a little and report back if you find any evidence of stock rustling.”

  Jake frowned. “I thought cults were into drugs, kidnapping and brainwashing.”

  Luke laughed. “Not this one. My father has caught them selling special cookies to high school students, a few minor offences, but that’s all.”

  “Then wh
y do you suspect them of cattle rustling now?” Jake asked.

  “Change of management,” Luke said. “The old leader died and the son has taken over.”

  Jake’s interest was caught in a way it hadn’t been since his last assignment. “Suspicious circumstances?”

  Luke shrugged his shoulders. “It’s possible, but I haven’t heard any rumblings.”

  “All right,” Jake said. “Suppose I decide to help you out—how do I get in? I’m sure they don’t accept anyone who rocks up to the gate.”

  “Gaining entry might prove a problem, but if you sell it right—tell them you’re back from an ashram in India, and you’re looking for a place to settle in New Zealand. Tell them the idea of living at a farm and the slower pace of life appeals to you.”

  Jake suppressed a snort. Slow sounded great. Anything would be better than the sniper fire and bombs of Afghanistan. Besides, he was tired of his own company. His friends, Nikolai and Louie had wives now, other responsibilities. He didn’t see them as much. Hell, maybe having something to focus on would put a stop to Greg’s ghost dogging his heels, not that he intended to mention his fun companion to anyone.

  “Do you have more questions?” Luke asked.

  “No, I’ll do it,” Jake said. “I’ll give it my best shot.”

  * * * * *

  Children of Nature Compound

  Sorrel saw the new guy arrive, and unlike everyone else at the compound, she suspected what his presence meant.

  Clandestine surveillance. Secrets and sneaking around.

  They’d moved quickly after talking to her. She hadn’t even had her second meeting with Alice yet.

  He was tall, over six foot, and he wore his dark hair tied in a ponytail at his nape. A faded navy blue T-shirt covered his chest while jeans, equally faded at stress points, garbed his lower half. Despite his thinness, he was a big man, and he held himself proudly, meeting the gazes of the men at the gates without hesitation. At least it appeared that way. A bushy black beard hid a large portion of his face.

  Aware she’d grab attention if she was found staring, she hurried to her workshop and started on a batch of soap. She’d already distilled the oil from the eucalyptus leaves, and she intended to use it to scent the soap today. She measured and stirred, her mind only half on the job, the heady bouquet of eucalyptus filling the air.