Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Hattie circles me, stops behind me, and then her fingertips are touching my hair. “I didn’t interrupt anything when I pulled you away from your prisoner, did I, Riggs? I mean, I know the two of you were in bed, and naked, and—”
“Where is she!” I’ve recovered enough now that my words come out strong and commanding.
Hattie laughs. “Don’t worry,” she says, still standing behind me, stroking my hair. “We gave her some clothes. I wasn’t going to, but my men were getting a little frisky with her unconscious body, so—”
“You bitch. If they touched her—”
“If they touched her… what, Riggs? What are you going to do about it?”
I take a moment to calm down, all the while reminding myself that Hattie isn’t like that. She’s not moral, or anything. She’s just rigid. By the book. She loves rules. And there are rules of engagement when it comes to prisoners. None of her men are touching Clover.
Me, though? Different story. I’m not a prisoner, I’m a traitor. So she continues to stroke my hair.
I shake my head and roll my shoulders, trying to push her off in the only way I can.
This makes her sigh, but it comes out with a lot of satisfaction. She walks around to my front and stands there, looking down at me with an amused grin that comes off so wicked, I nearly recoil. “Do you understand what is happening, Riggs?”
“You burst in on my plan—”
Her guffaw cuts off the rest of my sentence and I go silent as she tips her head back, laughing. She takes her time recovering, but when she does, that smile drops. And as nasty as it was, the expression that takes its place is something altogether vile. She grits her teeth. “Do not even bother with whatever lie you’ve come up with to hide the fact that you—once again—betrayed us.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I took her prisoner.”
“You were fucking her, Riggs.”
“So what? I was horny, she was there. And I didn’t force her. She was willing. Who cares if I was fucking her. I was bringing her back—”
“Stop!” Hattie says this one word so loud, and with such animosity and conviction, I actually do stop. “Just stop, Riggs. You weren’t bringing her back.”
But I don’t agree. I shake my head. Because there’s no way she could know this. She can’t read my mind. She doesn’t know my plan, she only thinks she does.
Hattie sighs and shakes her head. “I feel sorry for you.”
“Don’t bother,” I sneer. “I don’t need your pity. I was bringing her back with me because I wanted to keep her. There. Is that what you were waiting to hear? I was lying to her about getting her out, but I just wanted to keep her for myself. That’s why I was fucking her. That’s why she was with me. I like her, Hattie. She’s my prize for a job well done.”
This is absolutely not what Hattie Miller wants to hear and I am very aware of this. Clover described Hattie as either a bitchy jilted ex or a bitter, scorned woman looking for vindication.
She’s both. Though I didn’t admit to the first one with Clover—it’s my past, so it’s my business. But Hattie and I were dating when I left that first time. It wasn’t real. I was using sex to lower her defenses and mitigate any growing suspicions she had about my loyalty to the Colony. And it worked.
I tricked Hattie into thinking I cared about her.
That’s why she hates me.
It wasn’t because I broke the rules.
It was because I broke her heart.
And what I just said about Clover breaks it all over again. It’s got nothing to do with love, though I can see myself loving Clover if we had the chance. But it’s not my emotional attachment to Clover that bothers Hattie, it’s my claim.
I basically just called her mine.
Something Hattie wanted to be, but never was.
It’s dangerous to use Clover in this way. Hattie is capable of hideous things. But I need to take control immediately or this will end badly.
Hattie believes me. I’ve known her my whole life so I can see it in her face.
This belief fades though. In real time, as I’m looking at her. And in its place comes certainty. Not in what I just said, but in herself.
She turns, walks over to the wall, and turns again, leaning against it with her arms crossed. She’s about six feet away and she is glaring at me. “Your father’s not here yet. Won’t be until tomorrow.”
“So?”
“So that means I’m in command here.”
“And? Are you trying to impress me, Hattie? Because if so, you’ve missed the mark. Subservience doesn’t impress me.”
She scoffs. “That’s funny. Because from what I saw on the surveillance footage at Clover Bradley’s house, her submission was your downfall. It was the food, I think. That’s the night she gave in. When you went all the way down to Fayetteville to get her those burgers.”