Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“Well, first of all,” I say, holding up a finger, “you have no right to ask me questions. I didn’t show up at your work trying to fuck things up. And second of all,”—I hold up another finger—“I don’t owe you answers.”
“Hmmm.” She kicks off the wall and walks forward, her fingertips gently brushing against my arm as she pushes past me, going into the feed room. A chill runs through my body from that small touch, but I shake it off, turning to watch her.
She’s standing in front of the whiteboard, reading the instructions Cross left for me. “We discussed this, you know.”
“Discussed what? And with who?”
She looks over her shoulder at me, just staring into my eyes. It’s a technique to make people uncomfortable and gain control of things when a situation might be spiraling. I should know, I was taught to do the same thing. “Discussed you and how you got here.”
“You didn’t answer the second part of my question.”
She smiles. “I guess the childish thing to say would be that I don’t owe you answers. But I’m a grown-up.” This makes me laugh. She’s a baby. But she just keeps talking. “So I’m gonna tell you. My partner, Brose. When you came in to the club that first time he and I had a nice long conversation about you. And do you know what we decided?”
“I can’t wait to find out.”
“That it’s the second one, Shep.”
“Second what?” I’m very annoyed now.
“You’re lying to yourself.”
I take in a deep breath and let it out. “Whatever.” Then I turn towards the open door, ready to go grab the puppy and leave her here with her stupid riddles.
“It’s not your fault.”
I don’t even turn my head to look at her as I try to pass, but she grabs my arm, forcing me to react. If she was a guy, this would be my cue to punch her in the jaw. But she’s not, so instead I make the most menacing face and growl my words out. “Let go of me and don’t ever fucking touch me again.”
She does not let go. She looks me right in the eyes. “They’re using you.”
“Look, if you’re gonna try and play mind games with me, the least you can do is tell me something I don’t know. Of course they’re using me. Just like they’re using you. Because they use everyone, Olive. But I, unlike you, have seen the truth here. That we are just puppets. And I’d rather spend my life in prison than work for CORE again.”
She goes to open her mouth, but I put up a hand. “Save it, OK? I know who got me out of prison. I know why they did it. I’m not fuckin’ stupid. But no one gave me marching orders, so as far as I’m concerned, this is a brand-new start for me. And even if they did try and give me orders, I’m not interested. If they want to kill me because I won’t participate, then fuck it. There’s nothing I can do to stop it.” I reach up with my opposite hand and pry her fingers off my arm. “So if you don’t mind, I’m gonna take my chances and you can just see yourself the fuck out and pretend you don’t know me.”
But again, as I pass, she reaches for me, grabbing onto my arm.
This time I don’t control myself. Can’t control myself. So my hand is around her neck and I have her pressed against the whiteboard before she can even blink.
I can feel her heartbeat beneath my fingertips and I’d be lying if I said that tiny pulse of blood wasn’t turning me on. I lean into her face. My turn to look her in the eyes. “One little squeeze, Olive, and you’d be seeing black. Just a bit more pressure for just a few more seconds, and you’d be on the fuckin’ floor.”
Her eyes are low and lazy as she looks back at me. “Go ahead. Do it.”
Before I can stop myself, my fingers squeeze, wrapping tight around her neck. I expect her to struggle. To push me off and give me a reason to stop.
But she doesn’t.
She moans.
And instantly, I’m fuckin’ hard.
“Do it,” she says, her voice barely a whisper. “Do it. Please.”
“You’re sick,” I whisper back. “You’re damaged.”
“Do it!” This time, she says it through clenched teeth. “Do. It.” Then she brings her hand up to cover mine, and she squeezes for me.
I pull back, breathing hard, but not as hard as her, trying to get myself under control. “What the fuck was that?”
She exhales, still panting, looks down at her feet, then tips her eyes up to me in what comes off as a very menacing expression. She smiles, and it’s wrong. “So what? I like it. Brose does it all the time.”