Through a Glass, Darkly (Assassins of Youth MC #1) Read Online Free Page A

revealed. I wanted to know ever so much more about this man!
    Parley said, “She’s not The Prophet’s daughter. Sister Mahalia is his wife.”
    Oh, my squash. Now that the cat was out of the bag, he’d never talk to me again. But what was I thinking, anyway? So what if I somehow managed to finagle a moment or two alone with this rugged, tough biker? What would that accomplish? I was sealed to The Prophet, and there was no going back on that one.
    Allred addressed me now, so I turned and folded my hands in front of my apron. “Mahalia is a newcomer to Cornucopia, but she’s already been made the President of the Relief Society for her skill with bookkeeping.”
    I felt I was being allowed to speak. “I was a CPA on the outside.”
    Allred continued. “Mahalia is my spiritual wife in the new and everlasting covenant of marriage. I know some find it strange, but that’s of no concern to us.”
    “No concern, indeed,” echoed Parley.
    Allred said, “These practices were wrongly abandoned by the mainstream. I’m a Brighamite to the core. Plural marriage is a requirement for the exaltation that’ll allow us to live as gods and goddesses in the afterlife.”
    I could tell Gideon was doing his best to hold in a guffaw. I sympathized with him. I didn’t believe I’d ever become a goddess, either. So much had been ripped from me in my thirty years. I was pragmatic. What had I seen with my own two eyes that would lead me to believe such scrud? Now I was ashamed that Gideon Fortunati knew I was sealed to a crusty, ridiculous old man such as Allred, as though I’d had any choice. The best years of my life had already passed me by. I had only decades of sameness to look forward to.
    Gideon said, “I might not agree with your religious beliefs. But I can tell you that you’re one lucky man to have such a goddess for a wife. I’m not married. Never been able to find a woman I’d want by my side for the rest of eternity.”
    “I’m glad you believe in eternity, at least.” I could tell by Allred’s grin that he’d continue to do business with Gideon. He turned his head toward me now. “We are done with you, wife.”
    “Until you get them little beef pastries,” said Parley.
    So I was forced to leave. I shushed Kimball out of the kitchen so I could serve the empañadas when they were done, but apparently Allred had finished his business with Gideon by then and the office was empty. I raced downstairs while a thousand pretexts for doing so ran through my mind. I need to know about the dinner menu. I need your approval on a donation to the General Missionary Fund. The dog needs to go to the vet.
    Something. Anything. On the front landing, my head whipped from side to side. I just saw the usual groups of women resembling frontier pioneers and men who seemed on their way to a sock hop thrown by, well, fundamentalists.
    Allred and Parley were gone, but Gideon’s bike was still there. Without thought to what my excuse would be if caught, I strode over to it. My head turned unbidden when I heard his voice around a corner.
    He was talking on a cell phone, leaning against the building with his back to me. It was evident by the singsong, matter-of-fact tone that he was leaving a message for someone.
    “I know I’m not supposed to be doing this, Chelsea, but I miss you like hell. It’s only been three days since I’ve seen you and I can’t get you out of my mind. Listen, I’ve still got that burner number I gave you. Papa Ewey can’t figure out you’re calling me if you call this number.” He sighed deeply, his shoulders shuddering. I had to strain to hear what he said next. “I miss you, Chelsea. I love you.” Slowly, with a regretful shaking hand, Gideon punched the END button.
    I dashed out of there so fast he probably felt the wind of my skirts.

CHAPTER THREE
    GIDEON
    S uddenly Avalanche, Utah was a heaven on earth, chock full of potential. When you inhaled, you had the feeling you could do anything, cradled