The chair she was being offered was sandwiched between two dark-haired men—Rocco and Kelan. Her panic had to be receding if she was able to recall names. She set her things on the chair, then stayed where she was next to Greer.
“I think I’ll stand, thank you,” she said, letting her expression slip into a mask of bland interest.
Greer stood so close, their arms and feet touched. She could feel his heat. His dominance. It should have inflamed her panic, but it didn’t. She hooked her pinky through his, felt comforted when his finger bent to hold hers. She wasn’t a coward. Usually. She was just waaaay out of her element.
The flattop guy was talking. She forced herself to focus on him. “You picked a helluva year to study the Friendship Community.”
“Actually, I began studying them three years ago, though I hadn’t been invited to their compound until this year.”
Kit propped himself against the arm of one of the couches. “Well, it seems they have an association with the group we’re studying—the White Kingdom Brotherhood.” He shot a glance toward Greer. “I understand you’ve been having some run-ins with them.”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell us what their interest in the Friends is?”
“I don’t know what it is. My focus has been on the community itself, not on peripheral populations.” She suspected the WKB was simply touchy about anyone getting too close to their compound. The Friends’ property abutted the WKB’s longest boundary line. “Frankly, I have no interest in the WKB.”
Kit folded his arms and leveled a hard glare at her. “It appears they have an interest in you. I think we can help each other.”
She looked around the room. A meaner bunch of mercenaries she’d never seen. Well, really, she’d never knowingly seen a mercenary at all before Greer, but if she had, they’d look like these men.
“No, thanks. I’m not interested. I don’t want anything to do with the WKB. And I don’t want to put my work with the Friendship Community in jeopardy. It’s taken me years to get permission to conduct on-site interviews with them, which they’ve only just granted this year. I’m very close to being able to draft several articles on their unique society.”
“We don’t intend to jeopardize your work, doctor. We just want to piggyback on it for our investigation.”
Another quick glance around the room. “And who did you say your organization is working for?” She’d checked out Greer, but Mr. Villalobo had provided only a minimal amount of info.
“I didn’t.” Kit sent a look over at the man leaning against the wall, who gave him a hint of a nod. “We’re a private security company. We’ve been contracted by the Department of Homeland Security to assist in their investigation into domestic and foreign terrorists operating in this area.”
Remi’s mouth opened. What the hell had she gotten herself into? These men were mercenaries. Oh, God. Greer’s big hand took hold of hers—for comfort or warning, she didn’t know.
“We’re asking for your help, Dr. Chase. Take Greer into the community and help him get some of our questions answered.”
Remi nodded. “I’ll talk to the elders on your behalf, but I’m not bringing Greer in with me. He’s a stranger to them.”
Kit smiled, like the warning snarl of a wolf baring his teeth in a silent growl. “True that. To simply have him accompany you would be inappropriate. You’ll be bringing your husband with you.”
Reality screeched to an abrupt halt as Remi’s clusterfuck sensors fired. “They know I’m not married.”
“Tell them you recently got married.”
She pulled away from Greer, and laughed as she reached for her things, which helped unlock her chest and her lungs and calm her terror.
“You’re good, Mr. Bolanger.” She looked around the room. “All of you, in fact. You had me going there for a minute. Tell me, did Clancy Weston put you up to this? ’Cause sometimes I think he’s crazy like that.”
That was the best answer for what was happening. Except her assistant—even as oddball as he was—wouldn’t smash her doors in just to set up a joke.
Oh, God. This was real. This was really real.
She stared at her things, trying to figure out how she could unwind the day and have it play out differently. Greer touched her shoulder. She looked up into his warm brown eyes.
“Please, Remi. We need you. A lot of people need you.”
“Dr. Chase,” Owen said in a supremely calm voice, “please tell us everything you know about the Friendship Community.”
“Everything I know about them?” She looked over at the cool-tempered boss. “How long do you have?”
“As long as it takes.”
She looked at Greer, who gave her a supporting nod. “I’ve told them some of the obvious things, but assume we know nothing about them.”
Remi moved to the front of the room, deciding to treat the group as she would any other class. For the next hour, she gave the history of the group, from its founding in the first half of the nineteenth century to its current incarnation. Each generation had left its touch on the community, which had started as a secular group pursuing its vision of a perfect society. It was one of very few that survived, in any form, from the original movement over a century and a half ago.
“Why does it still exist?” Owen asked.