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)
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.
CHAPTER 14 - RIGGS
When I close the bedroom door behind me, I’m frustrated and angry. Frustrated because she’s right, of course. Why should she trust me? It’s Stockholm syndrome shit.
But the anger is with myself. Because I was starting to fall for her and it’s nothing but a stupid, hopeless fantasy.
What I didn’t tell her, when she asked why I was doing this, was that maybe the reason I wanted to lock her in the bunker for three months was so I could sort things out and then… go back and get her so the two of us could…
I scoff.
Could what? Go on the run together? It’s so fucking absurd, I’m internally cringing at my own thought process.
But the truth is… that was what I was thinking and I didn’t even realize it until we had this conversation about trust.
I really thought I could put her on hold while I sorted shit out, then go back and get her and keep her forever.
Not alone, in a bunker, but in her world up top.
We could find a new future together. I mean, her life just imploded. She lost her job and her place to live. It’s the perfect time to start over.
Yeah, Riggs, that little voice in my head says. She really wants to start over with a guy like you.
Probably not. She saw right through my lies. And even if she could convince herself that I was telling the truth about liking her, those threats I made in the beginning are something else altogether. I can almost picture us as old people, after being together for thirty years and getting in a fight. She would still be quoting those threats at me. We’d have kids, and grandkids, and she’d tell the story of how we met.
Well, dear grandchildren, your Pop-Pop here kidnapped me on the worst day of my life, and then we ran away to an underground city and…
And what? What are we going to do next?
“Next,” I say out loud, “we’re going to dinner at Ike Monroe’s.”
I go into the bathroom, splash some water on my face, and try not to look at myself in the mirror.
One night.
All I have to do is get through this one night. Then, tomorrow, get on the train, take her to the bunker, lock her in, and never think about her again.