Chapter 6 - Riggs

CHAPTER 6 - RIGGS

C lover's blindfold doesn't cover her whole face like it did yesterday so I can see her mouth just fine when she opens it. Her lips are very dry, but they've got a nice shape. I can't see her properly, of course, but I can tell that she's pretty and she is one of those women who cares a lot about her presentation. Nice dress, nice shoes, fancy hair and nails.

I put the fork in her mouth and she recoils for a moment. "It's hot."

"Do you want me to blow on it?"

"If you don't mind."

"I'm not blowing on your food, Clover. You're a grown woman."

"And yet you insist on spoon-feeding me."

"I can stop any time you want and scarf this hot meal down all on my own."

"No. Just… it burned my mouth, OK? Fuck. Just hold it in front of me and I'll blow on it myself. Is that too much to ask?"

I take my own bite, then load the fork up again for her. "Here. It's in front of you. Blow."

Her lips pucker up and then, ever so gently, she blows. The next thing I know she's reaching for my hand.

I pull away. "Don't touch."

"I can feed myself. Just hand me the fork."

I slap her hand away. "That takes all the fun out of it, Clover."

"I knew it! You're getting off on this spoon-feeding thing, aren't you?"

"Well… I would not go so far as to say ‘getting off,' but it's entertaining. And if all you wanna do is complain and ruin it, I'll just?—"

"Eat it yourself. You've threatened me with that a billion times already."

"Twice. I've said it twice . But three strikes and you're out. So one more grumble from you, and I'll just?—"

"Throw me down the stairs? Kill me and put my body in the back of my car, then push it into the river? Or leave me in the basement to die and decay?"

"You're really dwelling on those threats, ya know that?"

"Well, why wouldn't I? You seem to have an endless number of death scenarios at your fingertips."

"All I want is your compliance. You know this, and yet you keep insisting on asserting control over me. Which is a waste of time, Clover. Because you have no control here. I'm the one in control. And a smart woman would realize that and play along, so my final assumption about you is that you're stupid."

"Fuck you."

"That's it." My chair scrapes against the floor as I stand up and grab her arm, yanking her to her feet. "Dinner's over. It could've been a nice break for you, but I'm not in the mood to listen to you complain."

"Wait! I'll be good! I swear!"

"Too late. I'm done."

She struggles as I pull her down the hallway, planting her feet and leaning into the wall. I yank her so hard she falls forward. Luckily her hands aren't bound and she uses them to avoid a faceplant. Still, she lands pretty hard and cries out in pain.

"For the record," I say, "you did that to yourself."

She looks up at me, her blindfold askew. And I see one eye staring right at me. I should move. Pick her up. Cover her eyes again. But I don't. I just… stare back. She gets to her feet, and she doesn't fix her blindfold.

Instead, she spits insults. "You jerk! You manhandled me until I fell! I didn't do that on my own."

I reach over, pull her blindfold back up, and take her arm again.

Again, she plants her feet. "Wait. Just wait ! One spoonful of noodles isn't enough! At least let me take the applesauce with me!"

"I don't know what it's like to grow up in this world you live in, but where I come from, when someone gives you three warnings and you disregard them, there is no reward, Clover. There is only punishment."

"Punishment that involves darkness?"

" What ?"

"You said?—"

"Never mind what I said." I yank her arm again.

"Wait! Can't I at least sleep in my own bedroom? It's got one of those hundred-year-old locks on the door that can be locked from either side with a skeleton key."

"What difference does it make if you're locked up or down? There's no furniture in the bedrooms. I checked."

"You didn't check the fourth-floor attic. I bet you didn't even know we had an attic." She smirks at me. "Just like you didn't know we had a basement."

"I did know you had a basement. I could see the windows from the outside."

"But you couldn't find it. Not without my help. So you don't know about the secret room at the top of the house and I do. And it's just as good a prison as the basement cabin. It is. I swear, it is."

"No." I yank her again.

Again, she plants her feet. " Please ."

"No. I'm sick of saying everything three times. Why can't you just accept the first answer I give?"

"Because your first answer is unacceptable."

She's frustrating me to the point of anger. But then, I know how to shut her up. So I lower my voice and lean in to her neck. "How about this… I'll let you sleep up there if I can sleep next to you. In fact, I think I need a shower. Don't you? Take a shower with me and we'll sleep in that bedroom of yours. Tit for tat, as they say. Quid pro quo. And that's my last and best offer."

Immediately, she's recoiling from me. I want to laugh, but I don't want her to hear, so I settle for a smile. "What do ya say? Deal?"

Her words come out as a growl. "No deal."

"Great, then let's go." I spy the belt I've been using to bind her hands and reach down and grab it. Then I drag her back to the trapdoor and put her right in front of it, her bloody feet perched on the edge. I lean in to her ear as I bind her wrists back up, making it as tight as possible. "Even though you don't deserve it, I'll leave the gag out. But if I hear one fucking peep out of you, Clover, I'll make good on one of those threats of mine that you're so worried about. Now get down there."

She wants to talk back. Badly, I can tell. But she holds it all in and lowers herself down to a sitting position. Then she scoots her way down the stairs. I don't even wait until she's all the way down, I just close the trapdoor and let out a breath.

Fucking woman. I know what she's doing with all that polite conversation she was trying to have with me. She's trying to make me see her as a person instead of an obstacle in the way of reaching my goals.

But it's not gonna work.

Once I leave the library I go back to the kitchen and resume eating. But the chicken and noodles are cold now, and taste like shit, and I don't like sweets, so I have no inclination to eat the applesauce or candy.

So my meal—the only meal I have left—ends up being unsatisfying and not nearly enough.

Why couldn't she just shut up and sit here? Why is that too much to ask?

It's like she wants me to kill her. Like she's trying to get on my nerves. And that remark about the darkness? Did I mention that I was in the tunnels? I don't think so. All I said was that I didn't want to get sent back down there.

And she knew that ‘there' was a dark place.

She's smarter than she lets on. Which is very bad for her. Because if she would just play dumb, I might be able to talk myself into believing it.

She saw me again too. And I let her.

I let out a long breath and shake my head.

This is not going to end well.

But then I remember what she said about the bedroom on the fourth floor and I go up the stairs, all the way up to the third floor, and I start opening doors, looking for the secret entrance to the room with a bed.

A bed .

Something I haven't had the pleasure of sleeping in for a long time now. Before this job, I spent a few days in a holding cell on the main level of the city. But there was no bed. Not a proper one. Just a cement cot attached to the wall by steel brackets. It didn't have a mattress on it.

Prisoners where I come from don't get anything but hard labor, and darkness, and hunger, and cold.

There's no door on the third floor that leads to the top of the house. Not even one of those attic access ones in the ceilings. So I go down a floor and sure enough, I find a stairway in the back bedroom. Two flights later I come to another door, which does, in fact, have an old-timey lock with a skeleton key sticking out of it.

I open the door and find the light switch, flicking it on.

A laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it. And I'm smiling too, because this is the most ridiculous princess room I've ever seen. Actually, it's the only one I've ever seen but that doesn't make it any less absurd.

There are unicorns everywhere. The walls are pink, the curtains are yellow, and the bed is a canopy, of course. Something a six-year-old up-topper would sleep in. No self-respecting Colony kid would be caught dead sleeping in a bed like that. Not even a girl.

But … I have to admit, it does look pretty comfy. I walk over to it and sit down.

It's a mistake. Because this mattress is so fuckin' soft, there's no way I can't slump backwards into the pillows.

The next thing I know, I'm sound asleep.

I wake up with a jolt , sitting straight up. For a moment, I'm not sure where I am. But a gorgeous sunrise greets me from the other side of the dormer windows.

A smile creeps past my lips as I remember what this room is.

Her room.

All the furniture is white, all the walls are covered in pictures and posters, and there is a whole wall of shelves displaying trophies and ribbons.

Her childhood bedroom. Why? Why is this thing still here when the rest of the house is empty and in the middle of renovation?

I get up and study the hundreds of photographs that cover at least a dozen corkboards.

Clover. Every stage of her life is on display up here, from a little baby being cradled in her mother's arms, to a very alluring teenager wearing a bathing suit and standing in front of a river with another, equally attractive, friend.

Lowyn McBride, I realize.

I bet Collin Creed would try to kill me ten different ways if he knew I was gawking at the teenage version of his sexy girlfriend.

Snickering at that thought, I start back at the baby pictures and follow Clover's life as she grows up—birthdays, ponies, swimming and, of course, hundreds of pictures of her in Revival costumes. In many of them, she's on stage, singing in a children's choir. There are framed certificates and awards on the walls. Even her college degree.

But the one picture I get fixated on looks recent. Maybe a couple years old. She's standing in front of the house holding a piece of paper. I squint and lean in, wishing this picture was digital, so I could zoom. But I decide it's the deed to the house. It's a big day for her and she is all smiles wearing a pastel spring dress.

She's very pretty. I've only gotten small glimpses of her whole face up until now, but there's no way to deny it. Clover Bradley is hot. And even though my offers have been mostly a joke, I actually would like to take a shower with her.

I pluck that picture off the wall and stuff it into one of my pockets.

Then I go back downstairs to the library and open up the trapdoor. "You still in there?"

For a moment, there's no answer and my heart skips a beat thinking that she escaped while I was sleeping soundly in her soft, comfortable bed on the fourth floor.

But then I hear a small, "I'm still here," and the panic recedes. "Is today the last day?"

"No. It's day two. I told you last night, it's only been one day."

"Well, that's just fucking great. Close the door and go away."

"You're not even gonna ask for a bathroom break?"

"Unless you're gonna free me, close the door and go away."

"Fine. Like I give a fuck if you wet yourself." And I slam the trapdoor back down with a booming bang.

I'm gonna have to kill this woman. I can feel it. She's too stubborn. Obstinate. Proud is probably the better word. She's too proud to be able to trust her not to talk. If she's alive when I leave here, the first thing she'll do is run to her best friend, Lowyn. Which means she'll actually be running straight to Collin Creed.

And then he'll come for me.

I already know they have access to the tunnels from that compound of theirs. For Edge Security, it's a huge asset. They don't lead straight to the ones below Blackberry Hill, but they might as well. One way or another, every tunnel is connected. All you need is a map.

When my father pulled me out of prison for this job, there was an air of panic in the room. So while I cannot be sure how much advantage Collin and his fellow townies gained by finding those tunnels, it must be considerable—and highly classified—for my father to pull me out early and have me do a job up here.

There's a part of me that wants to believe it's about trust. He's testing me, maybe.

Or he gave me this job because he doesn't care if I get caught. I don't know anything. Collin Creed could torture me to the point of death and I wouldn't be able to give him a single bit of intel because I've spent the last six years in the literal dark.

Sending me here to deal with Collin and his crew was an easy decision that required minimal effort.

But for me, this is my way back. This is my chance to prove my loyalty so I'll never have to spend another day in the dark again.

I'd do anything to make this happen.

Which means… I need to take care of Clover Bradley.

It's late afternoon by the time I check on her again. But this time, I'm doing it for a specific reason.

"Sorry," I tell her. "I was caught up in the job. I'm gonna leave you a case of water."

"Well, I'm failing to see how that's helpful since my hands are bound behind my back."

"I was gonna untie you too, smartass." I throw her a disdainful glare. "You know, you're not very good at this prisoner thing. You'd get a lot farther if you'd just be agreeable."

"I thought you didn't want me to be polite? I thought it was fake? ‘I don't like fake people and everyone in this town is fake.'" She makes her voice go whiney and childlike as she quotes my words back to me.

But I just smile and take her blindfold off. Mostly because I wanna see her face. But there's no point in keeping mine hidden anyway. She's seen me several times now.

Clover is so stunned, she stares at me with her mouth open for a few seconds before stuttering out her words. "What… why… what the hell are you doing? Why are you showing me your face?"

I shrug with one shoulder, unconcerned with her panic. "Why bother. You've seen me." Then I grab her arm, pull her up to her feet, and take off the belt around her wrists.

She spins around. "What are you doing?"

"Cutting you loose so you can drink the water."

"You're going to leave me down here, aren't you? That's your choice? Dead and decaying body found by a construction worker six months from now."

All I can do is shrug again. "If ya want, I can take the water with me."

She scoffs, her eyes wide. Then she makes a break for it. I grab her by the waist, swing her around, and try not to body-slam her, only marginally succeeding, as she hits the ground. She grunts and then starts moaning.

"That was a stupid thing to do, Clover." I growl this at her. "But lucky for you, I'm not the kind of guy who holds a grudge. So I'm still gonna leave the water." Then I turn and go back up the stairs and flick off the light.

"Wait!" she calls. "What about the bathroom?"

I look down at her, sitting there all pretty and desperate as the darkness threatens to swallow her up. I smile. "You wish."

Then I slam the trapdoor down and start drilling holes for the padlock I bought at a store in Fayetteville this afternoon.

She screams, pounding her fists on the wood, but the drill mostly drowns it out.

When I'm done, I leave and get back to work.

The sooner I finish up, the sooner I can leave this woman behind.