Desert Guardian Read Online Free Page B

ripple of revulsion pass through
him. His shoulders straightened, and he held his head an inch or so higher. "I
ran away before...I left with my virginity intact."
    "Where
did you go?"
    "I
lived on the streets of San Diego for a few days, just until I was sure no one
from the cult had come after me. One night, my need for food made me look for a
police station. That's when social services was called to pick me up."
    Kelly
had to admire him for surviving such a horrendous childhood. If she had known
what kind of life he'd had, she might not have been such a pain in the ass when
he'd snatched her from the cult's camp. On second thought, she couldn't have
helped herself. Bucking authority was her claim to fame, thanks to her
self-absorbed, egotistical father. The chill deepened and she rubbed her arms.
    "Cold?"
Sam asked, and reached into the backseat to grab an old jean jacket from
underneath Sheriff Longbottoms. He tossed it in her lap.
    "Thanks."
She draped the jacket around her shoulders. It was flannel lined and felt soft
against her skin. She sniffed the collar and smelled pine, plus a mild hint of
mildew as if it had been stored in a damp place for a while. "You didn't
mention what became of your mother."
    "No,
I didn't," he said flatly.
    An
uncomfortable silence settled between them. The only sound was the whoosh of
wind through the Jeep's open windows.
    Okay,
so he didn't want to talk about his mother. She could live with that. Sam had
already made it clear why he'd gone into the cult intervention business, and
she admired him for it. But she wondered what qualified him to perform such a
potentially dangerous task. She knew first hand the police were helpless when
it came to getting people out of the cults they joined voluntarily. Kidnapping
was illegal no matter who did the napping. When she had gone to the county
sheriff to ask for help with her brother, she'd been turned away, giving her no
choice but to take matters into her own hands. So it made sense that someone
like Sam was needed to help innocent victims of cult influence reclaim their
freedom. Considering how the cult's members had turned vicious in a heartbeat,
Sam's expertise probably went beyond mild-mannered counseling.
    "Mr.
Reed—"
    "Call
me Sam."
    "Sam,
if I'm to purchase your services to save my brother, how do I know you're
qualified for the job?"
    He
barked a laugh. "Haven't I impressed you yet?"
    She
shook her head. "Not enough. You're a big boy who can throw his weight
around. So what? That particular talent won't help my brother. He's sure to
feel vulnerable, frightened, maybe even psychotic."
    He
stared at her for a second, his gray eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her. "I
see you know something about ex-cultist recovery."
    "Very
little," she admitted, wishing she had read more than the one article in Psychology Today . But she'd had no idea
Jake's situation was this serious. She suddenly realized the brother she'd
known her entire life might now be a total stranger to her. She clutched her
tiny pendant of lavender rhinestones, the cheap metal setting pricking her
fingers. A childhood gift from Jake, it was an ugly piece of jewelry but one of
her dearest possessions. "I know enough to understand that Jake may no
longer be the feisty, fun-loving guy I grew up with."
    Sam
nodded. "And I could help him on his journey back to the real world. I'm a
counselor, Kelly. I only resort to physical force when necessary."
    "Just
because you survived a cult yourself doesn't make you a qualified psychologist."
    "But
four years of graduate school does." He grinned. "Thanks to federal
grants, a college football scholarship, and very generous foster parents, I was
able to graduate with my doctorate from Berkeley five years ago at the age of
twenty-three."
    Now
she was impressed. She needed Sam to rescue Jake, and it was obvious he wasn't
in the cult intervention business for his health. This was a serious career for
him. Could she afford him? She didn't make much