Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
"Okay dude, so this is no group of wilting flowers. There's easily a hundred of them, secure and well-hidden, all under the pretense of being a religious community, but it’s super fucking clear they’re working for someone—cartel, looks like.”
Timeo curses. “Makes sense. They operate under the guise of a cult so they can hide illegal activities. Cops and FBI have to stay away from groups like theirs. Law enforcement can’t infiltrate an organization with a closed and secretive structure. They shield everything, hide it under the pretense of religion."
“Not a really bad idea, if you think about it…”
"Mario," I growl.
"Just saying. I know, I know. Sorry."
Timeo continues. "They get people’s loyalty and devotion to their cult, then the cartel can make them do anything. They have charismatic leaders, people that follow blindly…"
Not my Eden. She's not a blind follower. She's stronger than that, smarter than that, fucking brilliant. My heart swells with love for her, quickly followed by a flare of fury that anyone would take advantage of someone like her.
"Cartel’s laundered money through them. Ten mil and rising,” Mario says.
Of course. It's always about the fucking money.
“You think they’re the ones that attacked us? Why?”
“Because they weren’t as ignorant as we thought. They likely suspected someone on the inside would tip off the authorities. The cartel doesn’t trust easily. Eden escaped, but they tracked her down. They must have assumed she was working with us.”
Fuck.
"They got any other connections? Any other supposed groups?" I ask.
"Funny you should ask," Timeo says. "Why yes they do. Two in Texas, one in New Mexico, and three distributed throughout Mexico itself."
Of course. They need a distribution chain to work. If they have followers spread across regions and countries, the network can be leveraged by criminal organizations so they can easily transport drugs. The members of the religious group—or, more accurately, a prop or a set piece—either act unwittingly as couriers or very wittingly, especially those in higher positions of authority.
Based on what Eden’s told me, I know they've used intimidation, manipulation, and control tactics. Leaders like this exert influence over their followers with more than just physical intimidation. A threat of violence or punishment is one thing, but the threat of being removed from all human contact and damned to Hell forever is another.
"Tell me fucking everything."
They send me maps, pictures, names.
"I'm in the process right now of activating a drone so that we can get live footage," Mario says.
I hear the low murmur of a female voice in the background. I can't make out all the words, and when Mario speaks to her, his own voice is muffled, but I can tell it's his wife Gloria and she's trying to give him medicine. As one of the best detectives I've ever met, I'm confident Gloria would want in on this action again, but she's trying to take care of her husband first.
She loves him. Goddamn, if that doesn't make my heart squeeze.
I don’t care who you are or what you’ve done, the human heart longs for connection, longs for acceptance… and longs for love. I’ve denied the very foundation of my own humanity for too long.
Never again.
"Ready to go, sir."
I want Eden safe. She’s safe within the walls of the club, but isn’t well and truly secure until the threat against her is eliminated.
I look up to see the pilot I hired signaling from the plane. We'll touch down minutes away from where the cult is hidden, in about two hours’ time. To others they’re “well-hidden,” but Mario considers finding them a challenge. He knows he’s close.
"I'm heading in," I say to Mario and Timeo.
"Sergio, wait." Mario signals with his hand up in the air, before a large camera behind him comes into view. His eyes gleam, and he looks as excited as a child on Christmas. "I got the drone to work. It's literally right outside their compound." He rubs his hands together gleefully. I hold up a finger to signal to the pilot that I need a moment. I want to see what I'm going into.
"This right here must be the entrance," he says. It quickly scans the area, video coverage showing lush, green grass, an enormous garden, rustic houses that look like mini cabins. It's like we've stepped back in time. Not a single electric wire connecting to the houses. They even have actual wells in front of the yards, a steeple with a cross. A chill comes over me. Something isn't quite right about this scene.
And then I realize. It's bright daylight and there is no one around.
"Where is everyone?”
"Chapel," Mario says grimly. "The best that we can tell is they have daily chapel calls when they need to have everyone occupied. It's likely when they do their shipments, their business dealings."
"Can you pan into the chapel?"
“Yep. Lemme see…” The video goes blank for second, then fades in and out. I stare at the screen, aware that the pilot is waiting for me, when suddenly I hear Gloria gasp.