Chapter 13 - Clover

CHAPTER 13 - CLOVER

H o. Lee. Shit .

He's setting me up!

He's using me to get back at his father. He's gonna get us caught on purpose. He never intended to let me go. Hell, for all I know, this waystation place doesn't even exist. He brought me down to this forbidden city to rub his father's face in his own bad parenting.

"Why are you looking at me that way?"

I just stare at Riggs with an open mouth.

"Clover?"

I let out a breath. "What?"

"Why are you looking at me that way?"

I press my lips together. I've underestimated him. I fell into the idea that he has a conscience. But I knew better. He spewed all those threats at me—vile, repulsive, gross threats about letting me rot and decay in my own basement—and the very first time he turns on the charm, I fall for it.

What the hell is wrong with me?

"Clover? What's wrong?"

I need to up my game, that's what I need to do. All that talk about trust and whatever. Such bullshit! "Nothing," I say. And to my surprise, my outer voice is calm despite the inner one roaring inside my head.

He's just about to object and start questioning me thoroughly when a phone rings.

We both get to our feet and start looking around. But then Riggs is crossing the room to a table and a moment later he picks it up. "Yeah." There's a pause while he listens, then he smiles. "Yeah. Well, I didn't think I'd get done this quick." Another pause. "It's all set. There's no problem there. But hey, I brought someone with me."

He looks at me and has the audacity to smile. What a jerk.

"My neighbor from Kingfisher. Her name is Hattie. She came to check on me. You know how my father is." There's laughing on the other end, I can hear it. "But we're not staying long. Leaving on the train tomorrow, in fact." Riggs is still smiling at me, then starts nodding to whoever is on the other line. "Yeah. Sure. We'll be there." Then he hangs up. "Well, that was Ike Monroe. They know we're here, obviously. And I knew we'd never get into the city without him knowing. But he wasn't expecting you, also obviously, so now we need to have dinner with him."

I'm failing to understand how the first of these things leads to the second, but it's not even worth questioning. He's taking me to dinner with Ike so Ike sees me and this whole charade gets uncovered. Then Ike will contact Riggs's father and well, obviously, I am not this Hattie person and that's it. I'm dead and Riggs gets his revenge.

"Is that OK?" Riggs asks.

"You're trying to get me killed."

"What?" He actually has the gall to laugh. "What are you talking about? I'm saving you, Clover. Not trying to get you killed."

"You're trying to get back at your father?—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" He puts up both hands, pressing them at me. "That's not true."

"You just admitted it!"

"Because it's… kind of like a… consolation prize should things go wrong."

"And then "—I glare at him—"you accept a dinner invitation to Ike Monroe's? What the hell?"

"I can't tell him no. That would be a huge red flag. We go, we eat a nice meal, we come back here, and tomorrow morning we get on the train. That's it. It's gonna work, I swear. And as fun as getting back at my father sounds, you're dead wrong about me wanting to get caught. If I get caught…" He's shaking his head at me. "Fuck that. I'm not going back to those tunnels. Never. I'd rather die than go back there."

He puts up a hand to shut me up because I'm about to interject here with a great big ‘ah-ha!' "And before you go jumping to conclusions about that one, I don't want you to get caught either. They would kill you, Clover. One hundred percent, they would kill you. And… well… I… you've… grown on me. You're…" He pans a hand at me. "Attractive. And… a little bit fun. Not to mention gutsy, in a princess kind of way. I don't want to get you killed, I really don't."

I blink at him. Then narrow my eyes. "Are you coming on to me?"

His smile is immediate. "Maybe."

"Well, save it, mister. I'm not interested. And I don't believe you. There's no way you're as altruistic as you're making yourself out to be. Altruistic men don't threaten to stuff my dead body into a trailer, drive it to the lake, back it into the water and let it decompose for months before being found."

"How the hell do you even recall those threats?" He blinks at me. "I mean, it was heat-of-the-moment shit, Clover. I was never gonna kill you like that."

My eyebrows shoot up my forehead and my mouth falls open. "Like that? Like that ?"

Riggs sighs and drops down into a chair. "All right. Fine. Get it out of your system. Tell me I'm a piece of shit. What should I say back? That all my threats were true?"

"I can't trust you."

He stares at me for a moment. Glares at me for a moment. "That would be unfortunate, Clover. Because if you can't trust me, then I can't trust you. And if there's no trust, then maybe I should kill you."

"See?" I point at him. "There it is again."

He scrubs both his hands up and down his face, mumbling things I can't make out. When he's done, and meets my gaze again, he looks worn out. His eyes, I now notice, are bloodshot. And his face is paler than I recall it being. Maybe it's the light down here. Or maybe he's just… weary. Which implies more than just being physically tired. This weariness comes out in his voice when he speaks. "If it were up to me, Clover, I'd stay with you."

I make a face. "What?"

"In the bunker where I'm gonna leave you. I'd stay with you if I could. I'd never go back. And you know what? I kinda hate you right now for making me admit that, because it took a long time to give up on the dream. I don't wanna live underground. Maybe, back before I understood what the up-top was, maybe it would've been fine to live this way. To never see the sun or stand in front of the ocean. But once you've seen it, it's impossible to live down here. I'm never gonna be happy. Ever. So I'm mad at you for reminding me of what I've lost and making me admit it."

"Well…" I pause here, not sure how to respond to that. I land on a classic third-grade rebuttal. "I didn't make you do anything."

"You did. Because you can't trust me. That's what you said. And that only leads to me not trusting you, so…" He lets out a long breath. "So then I had to admit to myself that I like you, OK?" He shrugs with his hands.

"I don't even see the connection."

"The connection is us ." He points to himself, then me, then back at himself. "We've started to feel like a team."

Hmmm. I consider this. The mood between us has turned a bit collaborative.

"And if we've got a connection, then I can't kill you." He pauses here to press his hands at me again. "Not that I ever would. I've never killed anyone."

"That's got to be a lie. Your threats came off… professional ."

He shrugs while pulling out a charming smile. "It was an act."

I scoff. I don't think it was. I really, really don't think it was. He had a look to him that first day. A reckless, kind of panicked look. A desperate look. He acted out of instinct when our eyes met that first time. He saw me, I saw him, and before I could even process the fact that there was a half-naked man in my house, he had me. Just like that, he had me.

My eyes narrow down because this charm he's throwing at me right now is meant to be distracting. Disarming. "You're lying." I don't say it with heat or anger. It's just a fact.

The charm disappears. Like… instantly. Because he knows I know and that's that. That part of the charade is over. "Fine. I'm lying. Is that what you want to hear?"

"It's not supposed to be about what I want to hear, Riggs. I just want you to be honest with me. You have killed people. And if I didn't worm my way into your head and make you see me as something other than an inconvenience, you would've killed me too."

He shrugs this off. A one-shoulder shrug, implying indifference. "So what? That killing was done a long time ago. Will you give Collin Creed the same scrutiny when you get back? Because he's killed a lot more people than I have."

Now I'm frowning and there's a crushing feeling inside my chest that I can't describe. It's not sadness, but something like it. A silence emerges. And then it continues for nearly a whole minute.

"Say something."

"I'm disappointed in you."

He laughs. "Is that so?"

"Yeah. Because we were becoming a team and now it's not even in the realm of possibility. And… well, I was starting to like you too. You're fun to banter with."

"But? Now that you know I'm a killer, you've changed your mind?"

"That's not it."

"Right. See, this is why I didn't tell you."

"So you lied to protect me?" I scoff.

"No. I lied to protect me . You have all the power now, Clover."

"How the hell do you figure that?"

"Because we're in my world now and all you'd have to do to ruin me is admit who you are. I'm taking you to Ike Monroe's home for dinner tonight. All you'd have to do is tell him you're Lowyn's best friend."

I huff. "Why would I do that?"

"Because he obviously loves her. So he would save you. Send you back home to tell her the whole story about how he did that. Then… you know, maybe she'd…"

"Forgive him?" Oh, my God. Underground men are so dumb. It takes a lot of self-control not to laugh at him right now. "He kidnapped her, Riggs. Twice. And almost killed her."

"He was never gonna kill her."

"How would you know?"

"My father's a general. I was briefed. And look, I'm not saying he's a nice guy. I'm just saying that if you wanted to stop this plan where both of us get out alive, you could. Very easily. Telling Ike who you are tonight would change everything." He stares at me for a moment, those weird brown eyes of his lit up with emotion. "If I wanted you dead, Clover, I'd have left you behind. But I didn't. I trusted you to keep me safe when I brought you with me. You've got power over me now. We need to trust one another. I don't want to be here." He points to the floor. "I want to be up there." He points to the ceiling. "And having you here…" He lets out a long sigh. "Well, it just reminds me of what I'm giving up."

"What does that mean?"

"I ran, remember? I lived up top. And then they sent me to the tunnels for six years to punish me for wanting something more. Bringing you here is just me admitting that I still want more. What other reason would I have to risk everything for a woman I don't even know?"

"Well, see… that's my problem with you, Riggs. I don't understand why you're doing this. If not to get even with your father, then why help me?"

His sigh is long as he rakes his fingers through his hair. He holds up his hand, one finger raised. "You're pretty." He raises another finger. "I don't want to hurt you." He holds up a third finger. "There's a part of me that thinks… maybe…"

When he doesn't finish his sentence, my eyebrows go up. He likes me? As in ‘likes' me? And he's thinking that maybe I'll like him back?

I scoff. Maybe he's telling the truth. Maybe he's not. It's impossible to tell, so of course, I have to lean towards the latter. Because misplaced trust is far more dangerous than misplaced suspicion.

"What?" he says. "What are you thinking?"

I shake my head and turn away, just kind of looking around the room to buy myself some time because I don't really know what to say to him right now. It's a nice big room. Looks like any other penthouse suite in a hotel. Not the Dixie Yonder, since the décor is all very modern here and the Yonder was very Colonial cottage, but there's a living area with a big L-shaped couch and two sleek club chairs opposite.

The dining area has a round table and enough chairs to seat eight. There's a bar on the far end, stocked with bottles of alcohol.

I head that direction.

"What are you doing, Clover?"

"Getting a drink." I step behind the bar and study the liquor, unable to recognize a single brand. There's one bottle of everything—a red wine, a white wine, a bourbon, a brandy, a vodka, a gin, a rum, and a tequila.

Normally I'm a wine girl, but for this occasion, I choose the bourbon. I take two glasses down from a shelf, then turn and face Riggs as I set them on the bar. "Neat or ice?"

His grin is lopsided. And I'm not gonna lie, he's got a certain charm to him. This grin in combination with the rogue dark hair makes him look like he belongs in the wilderness climbing the rocky red cliffs of Utah or rounding up cows in a Montana valley. And even though this city is lit up and bright, it's a lie. We're underground. There's no sun, no ocean, no cows, I bet. So it's nothing but a lie.

He's nothing but a lie.

But I guess I can see his point. He's stuck here and when your father's some highfaluting general of a secret underground army, there are expectations.

Is it any different growing up in Disciple? I mean, no one ever asked me if I wanted to sing in the children's choir every fucking weekend. No one ever asked me if I wanted to make crafty things to sell in Lowyn's family booth. No one ever asked me if I wanted to play a part in that show—fanning myself and shoutin' ‘amen' during the Revival. It was just the straw I drew.

He and I are staring at each other when he says, "Neat."

I press my lips together and nod. Then pour us both a shot of bourbon and slide his glass across the bar. He crosses the room and picks it up, locking his gaze with mine. "To trust?"

My sigh is kinda loud. "Do you want the truth? Or do you just want me to agree?"

He sets his glass back down on the bar. "Well, obviously, if we're gonna trust each other, then the truth."

I frown. Because I don't want to say something cliché. I've already done that. I've already told him the surface-level thoughts in my head. So I take a moment. Surprisingly, he allows me this time. After a long, awkward minute I land here: "I just… don't know what to think about this." I wave a hand at the hotel and then the window, so he knows I'm talking about where we are and what this place is. "I feel like I've fallen into an adventure. Which implies, as you said, that we're a team. I get that. I mean, we're plotting together, we're relying on each other to get through this, we both have things at stake, and there's a real atmosphere of danger."

"OK. So… is there a question in there somewhere?"

"There is. But it's crossing a line, I think."

"How so?"

"Because if I give in to this trust thing, I'll start to like you." His grin is so quick, and so big, and so fucking charming, I feel the faintness and heat of swooning. But I'm a grown woman, not a teenager, so instead of fainting from his charm, I pull myself together and point at him. "See? That's what I mean."

He chuckles. "What are you talking about?"

"Come on . You know what you're doing with that smile of yours. You're playing me, Riggs."

His face goes serious now. "I'm absolutely not."

"Then why are you risking everything to help me?"

"For fuck's sake. I like you."

"I understand that. I mean, I understand that's what you're trying to convey. But there's nothing between us. You kidnapped me. You tied me up, gagged me, and left me to rot in the dark of my own basement. And while we have already discussed the threats, I don't believe you, Riggs. You are charming, and you have this whole rogue-adventurer persona going, I'll give you that much. But you've killed people. And if you insist on sticking to the whole I'm-a-good-guy-underneath-it-all story…" I don't finish. He's already told me, in a way, what happens if I don't trust him. So I don't say it, but I do mean it. And he knows this.

He downs his drink, puts it back on the bar, then walks away. But over his shoulder he says, "We're leaving for Ike's in ten minutes. Go clean up." And then he disappears down a hallway.