The Fracturing: Book 2 (The Culling Series)

by Tricia Wentworth

  “He wouldn’t even talk to me and Taggert. Just me and Taggert,” Lyncoln says frustrated as he paces and runs a hand through his hair. He has more facial hair than usual, a sign that he’s stressed.

  There was also the time I saw Henry in the hallway by himself as I was leaving sims and he was going there. It was just the two of us. All I did was stop and look at him. I didn’t say a word. And all he said was, “Don’t.” Then he left me there where I stood without a second glance.

  “I’m sure there’s a reason he’s not talking to any of us. It’s not just you and me, it’s Attie and Knox, Elizabeth and Maverick, too.” I think of how anxious he was when I tried to corner him that first night. And he kept looking off to the left. “He won’t even talk to his dad. I wonder if one of his guards is working for Hadenfelt,” I think out loud.

  “Why?”

  “He kept glancing to the left when I was trying to talk to him. And he was so angry. Not just to me, but towards the President too,” I explain. “And if he was staying in the Culling to further his dad’s legacy, why would he be such a jerk to him?”

  “He was angry with us also, but his guards weren’t in the room with us. They were posted outside of the room.” He shrugs.

  “So maybe he didn’t want to risk them overhearing?”

  “Maybe,” Lyncoln shakes his head in frustration.

  “Hadenfelt is at home on his suspension though, so how is he still pulling the strings?” I wonder aloud and then it hits me. “Oh. My. Gosh.”

  Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh.

  Lyncoln spins around, stopping his pacing, and looks at me concerned. “What is it?”

  “The monitors. He somehow has access to it,” I say stunned. “And if he did, that would explain why Henry won’t talk to us. He knows Hadenfelt has eyes everywhere and won’t risk it. He can’t talk to anyone. They know his every move. With whatever they have on him, he would be completely isolated.”

  “That shouldn’t be possible,” Lyncoln shakes his head no but looks at me like he knows I’m right.

  “But if it is, Hadenfelt will know our every move too. He can even be listening in on our conversation right now.” A shiver runs up my spine as I pause to think about that. “It would definitely give him an upper hand in the Culling, too.” That would explain how he knew things he shouldn’t about happenings within the Culling.

  “No. He may be powerful, but that just isn’t possible. He would have to have too many guys on the inside,” he says. Something about the way in which he says it makes me believe he doesn’t think it’s true. He heads over to his backpack and writes something down on a small piece of paper and shoves it in his pocket.

  What is he up to now?

  He then changes the topic to a sim we have to do tomorrow and shortly after we head down for dinner.

  While we eat, Lyncoln is quieter than usual but gives input when needed. I know him well enough to know something is up. Does he think I’m right? Is he trying to watch his words? I chat with Attie and Elizabeth as usual and ignore Marisol and Henry and their fakeness while I rest my hand on Lyncoln’s knee under the table like he always does to me. We stay later at dinner while Attie and I talk. I see Lyncoln occasionally glance at his watch.

  When we finally get back to my room, he closes the door behind us.

  “What’s wrong?” I’m finally able to ask.

  “I need you,” he says simply. His words seem straightforward, but there is something weird about the way in which he says them. He’s not talking about that or needing me in that way… he already said we wouldn’t be doing that.

  Before I have a chance to even think straight, Lyncoln is all over me, backing me over to the couch while he showers me with kisses. He smiles at me and says, “Less talking. More of this.” He kisses me hard before I can respond and then whispers in my ear, “Trust me. Play along.”

  Gladly.

  We kiss for a long time, maybe longer than we ever have before. His hands are all over me, but never crossing any lines. It’s a smooch session and a massage all at the same time. And I’m definitely a fan of it. Definitely could rope it into our daily routine if I had to.

  When he finally pulls back minutes later, I pull him back in for another quick kiss. He grins at me and winks.

  “I need you,” he repeats and although I know he is up to something, I know from his smirk and the fire in his eyes that he halfway means it too.

  “Okay?” I reply out of breath and wonder what we are up to. Play with the fire and you might get burnt. What is he getting us into? Why is he trying to seduce me all of a sudden? Or make it look like it? And “play along”? What exactly does that mean?

  “Let’s go somewhere more private for more of this,” he pulls me up so I’m standing and holds my hand, leading me to the door. He leans in close and barely whispers, “Don’t worry. Trust me.”

  He leads me down the hallway. I have no idea where we are going or what we are doing, but we are going fast. I’m still not thinking straight from that super long smooch session on the couch. It might have all been a ruse, but it still affects me. My hormones are definitely on the prowl.

  “Where are we going?” I ask out of breath once we are in the elevator with our guards.

  Before I’m even done asking, he leans in and kisses me on the cheek. It’s a quick kiss and then he whispers in my ear, “Don’t say anything. Not yet.”

  The doors open, and it occurs to me we must be in the meeting room of the Presidential Quarters. Not the top floor where Henry and the President live, but the next floor. Lyncoln has the codes for everywhere, so I shouldn’t be surprised. He opens the door to the meeting room, walks in, and closes it behind us. He kisses me again and lifts me up to gently put me on the table. Although he is kissing me, I can also tell he is distracted. Then I see his hand reach under the table searching for something.

  The monitors.

  He’s trying to find and disable all the monitors. He must be looking for a microphone of some sort. And he must have found that one because he then moves us to the corner. He reaches around the back of the fridge in the room in search of another one. He then quickly takes off his shirt and starts kissing me again.

  Holy crap. This would be the hottest thing ever if he weren’t doing something else at the same time. Before I can react or get to appreciate the shirtlessness, he moves a chair over to the corner of the room. He places his shirt around a circular object above us, up by the ceiling, which must be a camera.

  Getting down, he kisses me softly on the lips then quickly goes over to the cabinets. He then pulls out a big black suitcase and opens it. He takes off his watch, and mine, rests them in the foam lining and closes them in. Then he shuts it, taking a deep breath.

  He grins at me where I’m still standing in the corner, probably looking all disheveled. “Sorry, babe. This was the only way I could think of to distract them, and even then, they’ll still have us figured out if they have half a brain.”

  “Figured out?” I ask, taking in his half-naked body again. He doesn’t seem uncomfortable in the least. I, on the other hand, am having a hard time breathing after all that smooching and can’t seem to take my eyes away from his muscles. I’m sure I’m all sorts of red right now. I don’t even care. And those scars on his abdomen. How are they so darn sexy? And why do I want to touch them?

  “This is the only place I know where all the monitors are. Taggert and the President are on their way. You were right. Hadenfelt is watching; he has to be. And if he is, he may already know we had this meeting arranged. But I didn’t want to advertise that fact, and I wanted to give us a bit of a head start so we could get here undeterred, so I made it seem like we came here to…”

  I blush a deeper red. I avoid his eyes and instead stare at those darned muscles. He turns to put the suitcase on the table and I think I might pass out seeing his bare back. “Oh. Like have sex you mean?” I try to ask it all chill-like, but I’m not sure I get the job done. Why does he have muscle
s in all the right places? It’s not fair. It’s just… rude. And awesome. It’s rudely awesome.

  He spins back around and stares at me like I’m insane. “No! Make-out? Yes. That? No!”

  “Oh. Just fooling around then, no sex?”

  He closes his eyes and quickly pulls at his hair. “Reagan. Stop saying that word. No and no. That was not what I had in mind. If they thought that, whatever, but that is not what we are doing here. I just did what I had to, to get us up here.”

  I grin, enjoying his discomfort. “What word?”

  “Reagan.” It’s the scoldy tone now, hence the use of my full first name again, which he never uses. He’s not laughing, but I am.

  “Sex?” I ask giggling hysterically as I blush. I’m obviously barely mature enough to even say the word.

  He shakes his head and crosses his arms over his bare torso. “That word on your lips sounds terrible.”

  I snort in a super ungraceful and embarrassing way because I’m still laughing. “You mean you don’t want to have sex with me? You could have fooled me.”

  He groans. “No. I meant that the word sex sounds cheap. And when we do that, it won’t be meaningless or cheap. It won’t be just sex.”

  The way he puts it makes me stop laughing altogether. “Oh.”

  He looks at me, still scolding, maybe a bit smoldering. A smolder-scold. “Yeah.”

  “Okay then. I’ll only use your word ‘snoodle’ from here on out. Better?”

  He rolls his eyes and gets back to business, putting away our watches. “Our snoodling will have them distracted and they won’t immediately notice Taggert heading this direction, so they won’t be able to deter him either. Or so I hope.” He shrugs and turns back around to face me. “I figured we should talk to the President and Taggert before Hadenfelt and whoever he has watching the monitors know we are on to them. And this is somewhere we can talk without them knowing. It will be too late before they do realize it because we will all be in here. At that point, there isn’t anything they can do, except assume we are on to them.”

  “How did they know to come?” I ask still smiling and trying not to laugh again while I try to get my heartbeat back to normal. I try to focus on anything but Lyncoln’s bare upper half. His use of the word snoodling gets me every time, too. For a military bad-boy, the word “snoodling” sounds so weird. It just doesn’t fit with the whole Lyncoln persona, yet I first heard the word from him.

  “I gave Rodgers a note before dinner and he discreetly got it to where it was going,” he shrugs.

  I remember him writing down something in my room. “That was a good plan,” I say impressed.

  “Except for one small problem.” He approaches me in his powerful, assassiny sort of way.

  “Which is?”

  “Even though it was a ploy, and NOT for the reason you presumed, you still seem to have an effect on me,” he squints at me accusingly and takes my cheek in his hand. “But we can talk more about this later, after our meeting.”

  “Actual talking this time, or more snoodling?” I ask seriously and he gives me one of those rare full-on grins, knowing I’m mocking him. I add, “And are you going to be shirtless this entire meeting?”

  He smirks as he takes a step back, which happens to only give me a better view. “Is that a problem, Regs?”

  Back to nicknames. Oh good.

  “Heck no,” I laugh boldly. “But hey, how did you know where the monitors were at in here?”

  “What you saw me do, was what the President and Taggert did when I was down here with them talking about what happened to Oliver and again after Isabella. We didn’t know who was helping her and needed a safe, drifter and monitor free, place to talk.”

  “Smart.” I nod.

  “Not as smart as figuring out that Hadenfelt is tapping into the monitoring,” he looks at me with those oh-so-fiery eyes.

  Just then the door opens and the President comes in looking worried, “Everything okay?”

  “Yes, sir. We just have a theory on the Hadenfelts and Henry and needed to speak in confidence,” he says respectfully, immediately flicking the switch from boyfriend to military legend.

  “Taggert?” he asks.

  “On the way,” Lyncoln responds and then smiles, “And hopefully with a shirt.”

  “Where’s yours?” the President asks confused as if noticing for the first time and although he looks serious, his eyes light up in amusement and he barely suppresses a smile.

  “Monitors,” he says and nods to me and then to his shirt blocking the camera. “We made it seem like we were here for some privacy so we could get here without Hadenfelt doing something or catching on too soon, so it seemed to go with the theme.”

  I blush for the hundredth time in the last ten minutes and try my darndest not to snicker, which I obviously fail at because Lyncoln glares at me.

  The President lets out a laugh too and slaps Lyncoln on the back, “Well played, my boy. Well played.”

  We wait for five minutes or so and then Taggert arrives. He gives Lyncoln a raised eyebrow and Lyncoln just nods again to the corner of the room in explanation.

  “Special delivery from Rodgers,” Taggert says, trying to hide a smile, and tosses him a fresh black shirt, which must be the only color and style of shirt Lyncoln owns.

  “So,” Lyncoln begins as we sit down and he is now properly clothed again, “Reagan figured out that Hadenfelt must have inside intelligence with the monitors. He’s somehow seeing and hearing our every move, which is why Henry isn’t talking to anyone. One of his guards may also be working for him. And this explains why he is taking his suspension so well. He’s gone but still knows everything that goes on.”

  “That man! I knew it,” the President’s voice booms.

  “Remind me again why he is not fired? Or in jail?” I ask. The man may or may not have tried to have me killed and is now messing with Henry. He does shady thing after shady thing but gets a slap on the wrist and keeps his precious power.

  “Mr. President,” Taggert pauses to nod toward me. “It sounds like you need to tell her everything if she is going to help us figure out what he has on your son.”

  “That piece of trash,” the President starts, “has a video of my oldest daughter that doesn’t show her in the best of light. She was a little… wild, shall we say? He often threatens to play it for a Friday movie showing.” He smacks the table angrily with his fist clenched. I think he is mostly angry with Hadenfelt, but a little at his daughter too. That video must be really bad…

  “She was young and had just lost her mother. She hasn’t always made the best choices, but she doesn’t deserve that,” he says and brings his head to his hands. “And now that man has something on my son, too.”

  “Not for long,” I say confidently. I know we can figure this out. I know it. We are so close.

  “We’re going to need Cane,” Taggert demands.

  “Jamie Cane?” I ask confused. Why would they need my guard?

  “Not Jamie. Jaden,” Lyncoln informs me. I have a hard time not staring at his biceps as he has one arm lazily propped up on the table. He should have left his shirt off for the entire meeting, I do believe.

  “He must be one of Jamie’s brothers?” I ask, back on task.

  Lyncoln nods.

  “Why?” I ask again.

  “He is the best hacker we have,” Taggert shakes his head to emphasize his words. “He’s been in trouble for it numerous times, but the kid is smart as all get out. We need to get those cameras back so Hadenfelt only sees what we want him to see. Jaden’ll do it. He owes me. He’s also working in communications for the Culling, so he will have the most information.”

  I vaguely remember Jamie being uncomfortable when I asked him about his brother working in the Culling. This must be why. I wonder if he was one of the people watching our every move back when the Culling began. Heck, they still are probably watching our every move, I just don’t care anymore. I have sadly gotten used to the fact that I
am always being watched. It’s just part of the routine now.

  “So how are we going to get Henry alone and away from all monitors?” I ask as I look at the ceiling, knowing that Henry is there upstairs somewhere and probably miserable.

  It takes us well into the evening and part of the early morning, but a plan starts to form. I know that as soon as Henry tells us what they have on him, we can fix it and use it against them. We need the Hadenfelts out of power and done with, once and for all. Before they ruin the Culling.

  Or worse, before they win it.

  Chapter 2

  The next day, I resume my interrogations with the drifter Samson. As is becoming our ritual, we take a walk around the open grounds where what seems like a lifetime ago, I played in the paintball match. I should be hurrying through my interrogations to focus on the interview tonight that Dougall has been on us about, but all I can really think about is the Hadenfelts and what they are up to or what they possibly have on Henry.

  “You seem distracted,” Samson points out.

  He looks so much different from the day I met him. His tanned skin now glows healthy. He’s put on weight. His dark hair is longer. And there’s finally something in his eyes other than hatred.

  “Hadenfelt is a pain in my butt,” I reply honestly though I know from my etiquette class that a lady shouldn’t curse or use crass words. I called him a pain in the butt, I could have used a plethora of other choice words to describe that man. Whatever.

  Samson snorts. “I would have to agree, and I don’t even know the guy.”

  “I feel like we are a ticking time bomb here,” I start frustrated. “Williams just waltzes out of here and we are too busy trying to deal with that fool to deal with the fact that something big is about to go down.”

  “What did Hadenfelt do now?” Samson asks as he walks beside me with his hands both handcuffed and roped, per the usual.

  Since I started working with him and pretty much saved his life, he hasn’t tried running or escaping. He hasn’t always been super straightforward or helpful, but he is trying to let go of his hatred for all things State related. On a whim, I decide to trust him and fill him in on what went on with Henry and Marisol. He already knows all about the candidates from the night of the masquerade ball when he and his partner infiltrated Mile High. Before Lyncoln caught him and killed his partner, that is. But maybe in telling him this information and gaining more of his trust, he will cooperate more in the future. I’m not a trained interrogator and have no idea what I’m really doing, I’m just going with gut instincts. So I fill him in a bit, half to vent and half to gain more trust.