The Fracturing: Book 2 (The Culling Series)

by Tricia Wentworth

  ****

  Lyncoln and I return to Mile High late that night. I did briefly get to see Attie and Elizabeth earlier in the day when they brought me lunch, but it’s saddening to me this may be our last few days with everyone and we were all too busy to really get to hang out. Now I’m too tired to even carry on a conversation without falling asleep.

  “Tomorrow, Regs,” Lyncoln says as I untie my boots.

  “Tomorrow is the day,” I nod.

  Ready or not, here we come. For the first half of the voting results. For Samson and Grady infiltrating the drifters. For Red Hawk. For everything.

  “How do you feel?” he asks.

  “Tired. Apprehensive. Scared. Scared I will be responsible for more blood on my hands,” I say honestly as I plop down on the couch.

  “It isn’t your responsibility,” he says confused, sitting next to me, hand immediately on my thigh. “And it definitely wasn’t before.”

  “No. But this was partially my idea,” I argue.

  “Regs…” he starts.

  I shake my head. “Please, let’s not argue. Whatever is going to happen we will deal with later. I just don’t have it in me to argue with you right now.”

  He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, which tells me he doesn’t like it, but he agrees, “Alright.”

  I rest my head against the back of the couch and take a deep breath.

  “Go change before you fall asleep there,” he says amused, commanding as usual.

  “Make me,” I say with my eyes still closed. This is exactly what I would say to Ashton in this situation.

  And just like the last time I taunted Lyncoln like this, I come to quickly regret it.

  He picks me up, carries me to my bed, then tosses me on it. I squeal and let out a loud laugh. But then predatory Lyncoln arrives and all laughing ceases. When he pulls away much later, I am definitely feeling more awake.

  “Will you go change now?” he asks with his voice sounding breathy.

  “I’d prefer to not move right now, but okay.” His arms feel like home. He smells like home. He is my home. “Round two instead?”

  “Reagan,” he says frustrated, scoldy, and more than a little smoldering. The smolder-scold is back!

  “I’m going, I’m going,” I say frustrated and sit up. But I hesitate and look at my bed where I was just lying and back to him. “But you’re sure you don’t want round two?”

  The smolder-scold remains, in full force. “Only two? Reagan Grace Scott, you know me better than that. Two rounds will never be enough and we both know it.”

  “Good point,” I manage with a blush, heading into my bathroom with shorts and a t-shirt.

  When I come out, he’s lying on my bed, half propped up against my pillows, one hand behind his head. Despite his playful words from a moment ago, he looks like he is almost ready to fall asleep. I have never seen a sleepy Lyncoln. The thought is… enticing.

  “What?” he asks.

  “I think I should have tucked you in tonight,” I offer, smirking.

  “Not on your life.” He looks insulted and I laugh.

  “Set an alarm and stay for a while at least?” I offer. I’m too tired to even talk, but I need to lay in his arms and not think about things. I used to think I had a light switch I could turn off and sleep whenever I needed to. The Culling has demolished that.

  “Absolutely, gorgeous.” He half-smiles.

  I think of when Bennett pointed out that we reach for each other in times of stress. This is definitely one of those times. We don’t need words, we just need to draw strength from one another.

  We get all nestled in and I sigh content, “I love you, Lync. I’ll be fine tomorrow, promise.”

  “I love you, Regs,” he replies and kisses my hair.

  Chapter 17

  I walk with Jamie on one side and Samson on the other. Samson has his hands only roped, instead of both cuffed and roped as is the norm. I know any minute now we will run into Lyncoln and Grady.

  It’s show time.

  “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Jamie asks me concerned under his breath. Of course, he’s asking me about what is about to go down, but anyone listening in could think we are talking about the vote results tonight.

  “I’m not ready, but I’m not sure I ever would be. Just ready for this to be over,” I say confidently. About both.

  Jamie grabs my wrist tightly, covering my watch, and whispers protectively, “Well, if he makes one wrong move, I’ll shoot him.”

  I nod and smile at him, grateful. “Thank you, Jamie.”

  “Ready, Sam?” I ask, turning to him.

  He nods nervously, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  The weather is downright chilly. It’s cloudy and cold enough out to make my nose run. I have on a lovely black pea coat, gloves, and ear muffs. Frank has my hair down today and straight around my shoulders, which helps to keep my neck warm. I’m still chilled even though I wear my coat over my gear. A shiver travels up my body and I don’t know if it’s from the weather or what we are about to do.

  “Reagan?” Samson asks.

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you for everything. I owe you one,” he says with a shy smile.

  I pat him on the back, “No problem.”

  “There they are,” Jamie says quietly and becomes even tenser than he was before… if that’s even possible.

  In the distance, I see Rodgers, Lyncoln, Grady, and Grady’s guard. They have just finished running. All they are wearing are sweatpants and long-sleeved shirts. Aren’t they freezing!?

  As scripted, Lyncoln gets on a radio and is talking with I assume Taggert. He turns to leave but says something to Grady before he does. I wonder what he said. Then, he is running towards us with Rodgers.

  He runs directly towards me, and before I know what he’s doing, he kisses me once hard, then continues running toward DIA with Rodgers. He looks good sweaty and in sweats. It just isn’t fair.

  “Well, okay then,” I say to my two companions. That was the only part so far off the script.

  “You had to know that was coming,” Samson grins.

  “No joke,” Jamie agrees nodding.

  I laugh and then become serious as we wait. Lyncoln is long gone now, and Grady is about to make his move. He waits a couple of minutes as we walk farther towards one another, about to meet in the middle. Then he makes his move.

  Very quickly, he swings around and kicks his guard in the groin area, taking his weapon in the process. He hits him over the head and the guard slumps to the ground unconscious, or what looks like unconscious. I know it’s all supposed to have been fake, but it all looks so real. I find my heart beating rapidly and I break out into a sweat as I know that Grady, the man who once gave me a black eye and pinned me to the ground, is coming for me next.

  As planned, he doesn’t waste any time coming over and trying to grab me. Jamie struggles with him, but of course, lets him have me without too much of a fight. As soon as I feel Grady’s hands on my arms, it takes every inch of determination I can muster up to not fight him, to not kick at him. It doesn’t help I know he has a gun pointed at my back. Loaded or not.

  “Give me your gun and ammo, your radio, and untie the drifter, then you can have her back,” Grady demands.

  Jamie stands there a moment looking at him rudely, which probably is not an act, and then he finally tosses his handgun, a clip of ammo, and his radio at Grady’s feet. I know Jamie has another gun at his back and another one in his boot if he should need it. But, he shouldn’t if Grady and Samson keep sticking to the plan.

  As Jamie unties Samson, Grady whispers in my ear, “I’m sorry, Reagan.” The way he says it puts me at ease. He doesn’t lean in too far. He isn’t too close. Even his grip on my arms isn’t too hard. He pointed the gun at my back and not my head. He is trying to make this as harmless as possible.

  I don’t say anything because I don’t know what to say. That and his being this close to me
makes me want to vomit. Though I guess if I did, it would only make all of this more believable. So there’s that.

  Grady releases me with a light shove toward Jamie. Jamie immediately steps between Grady and me, while Grady moves to pick up Jamie’s gun, which is loaded, and smashes Jamie’s radio.

  To Samson, Grady says, “Let’s go, drifter. One false move and I shoot.”

  Then they are gone and the plan, thus far, has gone exactly as it should have.

  Before we head inside, I quickly go over to check on the other guard. He immediately talks to us, having only pretended to be knocked out.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he smiles shyly.

  It looked so real though, so I find myself looking at his head and making sure he isn’t bleeding or anything. He isn’t.

  “Let’s go, Reagan,” Jamie offers, pulling my arm.

  The three of us head towards DIA at a brisk pace. We are to return and let Taggert know what happened. For appearances, he will send a team out there, but they, of course, will find nothing.

  As instructed, the three of us wave at the watchtower and get someone to rush out to us. Jamie informs the guy about what happened, even though the watchman already knows and was handpicked by Taggert for this job.

  Next, is the frenzy of the news of the escape and the fake team leaving to try to find them. People are scurrying around and barking orders. Jamie, Grady’s guard, and I are sent upstairs to see Taggert.

  Up the elevator, Lyncoln is waiting for us just outside the doors. He looks worried and his neck muscles are tense and bulging. I think from worrying, but it could have also been the run.

  “Hey,” I say softly.

  Not caring I have two other people with me, he kisses me once hard on the lips and then and rubs his thumb over my lips. “You okay?” he asks concerned.

  When he looks at me like he’s looking at me now, I know exactly how deeply he feels for me. It’s both terrifying and exhilarating to love another person so hard and know they return it.

  “I’m okay,” I nod, reassuring him. “Victor here may not be though, he got a pretty hard kick to where it counts.”

  Victor, Grady’s guard, laughs as he heads down the hall to Taggert’s office.

  Lyncoln shakes Jamie’s hand before grabbing mine, telling him, “Thanks, man.”

  “No problem. I’m just glad it’s over with.” Jamie nods, looking and sounding relieved. “And to think I once complained candidate guard duty was going to be too boring.”

  Lyncoln snorts. “Not with Reagan anyway.”

  Jamie chuckles, nudging me with his elbow. “Amen to that.”

  As we get to the door to Taggert’s office, Lyncoln stops a moment and brings me in for a hug while Grady’s guard continues in. He then wraps his hands around the back of my neck and brings my forehead in to his. We just stand there a moment.

  “I couldn’t be prouder of you,” he finally whispers.

  “Back at ya,” I reply, feeling a tickling sensation at the back of my eyeballs.

  When we walk into Taggert’s office hand in hand, the room full goes silent as they watch us. I blush but manage to ask, “Well, how’d it go?”

  Taggert smirks, belly bouncing. “Ms. Scott, I am pretty picky about my plans and the execution of them, but that part was as damn close to perfection as we get around these parts.”

  “Well don’t get too excited, it isn’t over yet,” I say with an exhale. This next part, all the waiting, is going to be awful. That and worrying about if someone gets injured or worse once they finally arrive.

  Becker grins at me. “Reagan, if I didn’t know better, I would think that you and Taggert were related!”

  This makes the whole room laugh.

  ****

  Hours later I’m back at Mile High and Frank is getting me all dolled up for the big event. There is a social both tonight and tomorrow night as the votes are tallied and brought in. That way there’s a live crowd for the broadcast.

  I’m nervous about the vote. I’m nervous about the team attacking the drifter camp. I’m nervous about having to chitchat with the cabinet members, half of which know I am in on this military plan. Really, I’m just one ginormous ball of nerves ready to spaz out at any given moment.

  Frank dresses me in a floor-length deep teal gown. This one has no slit in the leg, shockingly, but that’s only because it has a “v” between my breasts exposing the skin between them. Not as deep of a “v” as some of the dresses Marisol and her posse wear, but one that is enough to make me feel a teensy bit nervous anyway. Unlike with their dresses, my breasts are still perfectly covered and contained though.

  Goodness, now I am even thinking in military terms, i.e. boob containment. Help us all!

  “Are you sure this is proper?” I ask Frank.

  “Darling,” Frank shakes his head laughing, “I love that you are so conservative, but all we have done with you thus far is show a bit of leg and show off your back. We are not exposing your breasts, just the skin between them, and hardly very much of it. You are young. You are hot. Live it up, girl. This is nothing compared to what the other girls have worn.” He pauses, tilting his head to the side. “It makes you look like a woman, not a girl. My purpose with this dress for tonight was to show your maturity. You may be our youngest candidate, but you are wise beyond your years, dear.”

  I look to Gertie still not convinced.

  She nods her head. “It looks tasteful, I promise. We wouldn’t put you in anything that wasn’t.”

  “Okay, guys. You haven’t steered me wrong yet. But, if Lyncoln doesn’t like it, I’m sending the fury to you, Frank.”

  “Oh, darling, trust me. He will like it, alright,” Frank winks and then slaps his hands together in his signature signal of getting back to work.

  They’re right, it’s nothing too scandalous, just more on the sexy side than anything else I’ve ever worn. I know Lyncoln will like it, but I also know he doesn’t like to “share” me… or at least not anymore. And tonight I won’t even see him until I will already be down there.

  ****

  Well, Henry must like my dress because he gives me a real, dimpled smile when Marisol isn’t looking. Lyncoln still hasn’t arrived and is probably still working recon on the drifter infiltration. I make the most of my time without him and briefly talk to Attie and Elizabeth before Dougall whisks me away, having already done the same thing to all the other girls.

  A half an hour later, Dougall and I are still chatting with some of the cabinet members she has on “the list” of ones we are to woo over. A few blow me away by telling me they voted for us. I thank them, and it gives me a spark of hope. Who else did we win over? Of course, they could just be telling me this, but I think they actually meant it.

  “Great job, Reagan,” Professor Dougall compliments me as we walk away to get a flute of champagne and some hors d’oeuvres. “You have come such a long way these last few months. Remember when you couldn’t even dance?”

  I laugh but am then stopped breathless by what I see at the doorway. And he’s all mine.

  Lyncoln is wearing a black suit, with a teal and purple gingham shirt. He has no tie on tonight, and the teal of the squares on his shirt and the teal of my dress match perfectly. He looks freshly showered and shaved and absolutely takes my breath away. No matter what he seems to wear, those muscles of his are taut against the fabric. And I am not at all mad about it either! Though he doesn’t wear a tie, the two buttons of his shirt being unbuttoned are even more attractive than if he did.

  He walks in, his eyes find mine, and then he stops in his tracks. His eyes travel down my dress, back up my dress, all the way back up to my eyes. He gives me that intense Lyncoln “I know you” look followed by a slow smile and a smirk.

  What I wouldn’t give to know what he is thinking right this moment.

  Dougall smiles at our exchange and the way Lyncoln can’t take his eyes off me. “I think he thinks you look… nice.”r />
  “I sure hope so,” I laugh. I nervously put a strand of my hair, which is curly and down around my shoulders, behind my ear.

  “We are done. Go on,” she gestures with her champagne glass towards Lyncoln, who has been stopped by a cabinet member. “To be young and in love,” she toasts me as I leave, making me blush.

  I make my way over to Lyncoln and the person he was talking to is just leaving. He waits for me, purposefully making me walk the whole distance while looking at me expectantly. It makes me even more nervous than before.

  Don’t be mad. Don’t be mad. My dress isn’t even that bad, right? Marisol has more of her chest currently exposed than I do.

  “Hey,” I say softly, gripping my champagne flute, ready for an argument. Here we go.

  “Hey, yourself, gorgeous,” he greets me with burning eyes. Are they mad? I don’t think so. They are definitely predatory though. Smoldering for sure, but I’m not sure if I see the scold or not.

  “I take it you approve?” I say shyly and feel myself blush.

  Normally, I wouldn’t give two craps what anyone else thought of my clothes choice but knowing how much pain I put him through sharing me with Henry, I would like to avoid causing him any more unnecessary pain. With everything else going on, the last thing we need to be doing is having an argument over my dress choice. Curse Frank for trying to be even a little risky in my attire for this evening.

  He raises his eyebrows. “Heck yes, I approve, babe.”

  I smile slowly and blush some more. “Everything going okay?”

  “As long as you keep that ring on your finger so everyone here knows you are mine, then yeah,” he nods at me while smirking. I know from his tone that he is half joking, half serious.

  “I meant with Red Hawk.” I roll my eyes dramatically.

  “I knew what you meant,” he smiles. “Yes, everything is going fine, and yes, you better keep that ring on your finger.”

  “You know I never take it off. Not even to sleep,” I offer, shaking my head.