“Good,” he says quietly as he takes a step forward. “And you never will.”
“Yes, sir.” I squint my eyes at him, pretending to be mad with his ordering me around even though instead of upsetting me, the way he says it actually makes me feel cherished and protected.
“Don’t ‘sir’ me, Regs. Not you,” he warns, his eyes losing some of their playfulness. “You know I hate it.”
I do know he doesn’t like for me to call him that, but when he’s acting like my commander instead of my boyfriend, it slips out accidentally on purpose on occasion. Even now, he is commanding me to stop calling him that instead of simply asking.
“Then don’t act like a jerk, Lync,” I challenge him and lose the playfulness myself. “Stop bossing me around. You know I hate it.”
Oh crap. Maybe we will be arguing after all. I know he can be a bit possessive, but his bossing me around is not something I’m used to, nor even remotely like. Just ask for Pete’s sake. It isn’t that hard.
“You are…” he shakes his head and then smirks with a snort, “the most challenging, yet enthralling woman I have never met.”
Oh. Okay?
And just like that, he turns it back around to a playful mood. Whew. It’s hard to keep up tonight.
He steers me towards some people to talk to, whispering in my ear, “Don’t forget about Bernadette or Claudette tonight, whichever we can make happen. And no, I’m not mad about the dress. Promise.”
Oh crap! The meeting upstairs! It’s a Thursday after all. I had totally forgotten. Maybe by then they will have some news on Red Hawk. I put a smile on my face as we turn to talk, excited for this evening, just not these voting results.
****
Two excruciatingly long hours later, they veer us toward a big screen and projector. We bob and weave the camera crews. Soon we get to our designated spot and are ready to go.
It’s results time. Finally.
We finally get to find out how the voting is going for the first three townships: Denver, Vegas, and Galveston. Ready or not, this is it.
Lyncoln pulls me in under his arm and holds me tight, gripping my hip, and whispers in my ear, “No matter what, I love you.” He ends it with a kiss on my forehead for extra emphasis.
Smelling his pepperminty breath sends a wave of goosebumps down my already nervous body.
“So,” Professor Zax is explaining everything up front, “We will show the first township and their results, then the next township’s results, then how the first two tallied together overall, and then the last of the three township’s results, and finally how all three tallied together for the total so far.” He pauses, running his fingers through his mustache and then adds, “I would like to remind everyone that this is only half of the votes. No matter how it sits tonight, it could radically flip-flop tomorrow. The Board of Directors’ votes will also be tallied tomorrow.”
Once again, I’m waiting in anticipation looking at a blue screen. That devil blue screen! I don’t know what I want to see. Obviously, I want to see Lyncoln and me win, but tonight is only half of the votes. Will I be upset if we are in last place after tonight? Definitely. I don’t like losing. I don’t even like second place. I like winning. Period. That’s it. Anything less than winning isn’t good enough.
Lyncoln squeezes my hip right before the screen comes to life.
At the top is the word “Galveston” in bold letters. Underneath is a fancy bar graph of the votes for each couple. Not surprisingly, Attie and Knox have the majority of the votes at 53%, Marisol and Henry have 32%, we have 11%, and Elizabeth and Maverick have just 4%. There is a round of applause and as nervous as I am, I make sure to smile at Attie and Knox. I am happy for them, I just don’t want to go home. But third place instead of last? I’ll take it. Only 11% stings, but I’ll take it.
Next, the screen turns to Vegas. Attie and Knox again lead with approximately 31% of the votes, Marisol and Henry barely beat us with 28%, we have 27%, and Elizabeth and Maverick have 14%.
The next screen is the total thus far. I don’t really pay attention other than to see that Attie and Knox are in the lead and we are sitting third. Denver is next though, and has a booming population of voters, so it will either make or break us. Though tonight is only half of the votes, the Denver results are still pretty huge.
I take a deep breath. We aren’t in last as of right now. So that’s good news, right?
Here we go. I try not to shudder with nervousness and fear with this Denver vote. It could be split three ways, or it could all go to Marisol and Henry. What will it be? Who do the people like the most?
The screen comes to life finally putting me out of my misery. Denver is a mess, but surprisingly it’s between Marisol and Henry and us! They have the most sitting at a solid 40%. We are second with 28%. Elizabeth and Maverick have 18%. And Attie and Knox have the least with 14%. I’m a little shocked we have that many votes from Denver, but what really matters is what’s next, the total including the population distribution for each township.
As the first night of results ends, the screen tells us that Marisol and Henry have the most votes with 33.6% overall. Attie and Knox are in second with 28.6% of the votes. We are in third with 24.2% of the votes. And Elizabeth and Maverick are last with 13.6% of the vote.
Well, we aren’t in the lead or anywhere near it. But, we aren’t last either.
It’s kind of disheartening to think that we don’t have the majority from a single township. Hopefully that changes tomorrow with Omaha. Assuming we will have the majority of the votes there, and since Omaha’s population is a fourth of Denver’s, it still won’t matter as much in the long run. At least we got a good chunk of votes from Denver and Vegas, who have the highest populations.
I look around at the cameras and wonder what my family is thinking as they watch this live at home. Are they cheering? Is Dad sharing cliché quotes of wisdom? Is Mom crying? Is Ash making a ruckus just to annoy her? I only hope that tomorrow they have even more to celebrate.
I feel relieved these first results are over, especially Denver’s vote. We fared better than I thought we would, which is probably because of Elizabeth and Maverick getting us votes and maybe also Lyncoln and his military reputation. I’m sure Hadenfelt will be mad about the Denver vote and that makes my insides do a little summersault of celebration. I mentally shut those thoughts down though. 24% of the votes won’t be enough to win this thing for good. We have to do better than having a fourth of the votes, or we will go home, wherever home may be.
After the applause winds down, people congratulate us and although no one mentions it upfront to each of us, I hear many whispered speculations about who will win each of the other townships. Everyone is thinking we will win Omaha, of course, but Detroit and Seattle are the two wild cards. None of the candidates come from those townships, so who will have made the bigger impact? Thankfully, we only have to wait 24 hours to know.
Much later, I’m glad when everyone is starting to leave. I know we are already late for our super-secret meeting and feel beyond exhausted with the events of the morning and the stress of this vote. We receive many more congratulations and before we leave, I make it a point to find Elizabeth and Maverick.
“Hey, guys,” I smile as I find them finally alone.
“Hey! Love that dress. Said it earlier, but I will say it again, me-ow!” Elizabeth grins and playfully punches Lyncoln, wiggling her eyebrows.
“And to think Dougall thinks you are mature, Beth,” Maverick playfully scolds Elizabeth.
“Guys. Thank you,” I start, having to fight off some tears I didn’t even know were brewing. I have had a long and exhausting week, so naturally, they have been marinating there awhile waiting for a moment of weakness to show their traitorous selves. “I know we took a lot of your votes in Denver and I know that’s because you let it be known you wanted your votes to go to us. Thank you,” I finish and look at my hands, still fighting off emotion.
“Reagan, really. It’s fi
ne. It’s more than fine. You deserve them. Wait for tomorrow, you two will be dominating the votes tomorrow, and without anyone’s help. Don’t worry, it will all be okay,” Elizabeth reassures me and gives me a quick hug.
“Whatever it takes, you two will win,” Maverick says determined.
Lyncoln smiles and does a handshake-hug maneuver with Maverick. “I don’t know what we did to get two friends like you in our corner but thank you.”
****
We are over an hour late getting upstairs. This is going to be a late night. The main things will be filling in Henry on Red Hawk and making sure everyone is on the same page with where has and hasn’t been cleared of Hadenfelt’s eyes and ears.
Henry has his tie loosened and is sitting across the table from Lyncoln, who ditched his jacket. I am beside Lyncoln. Since we are so late, none of us had time to change. I did take my heels off immediately after sitting down though.
When Taggert restates the morning’s events with Red Hawk, Henry looks downright peeved. A lot has happened since last Thursday that we weren’t able to fill him in on. Although they both knew something was going on, and the President of course knew of the basics and gave his approval, neither knew all the details until now since we were trying to keep Hadenfelt out of it as much as possible. So the less Henry knew, the better. When Taggert gets to the part about Grady having a gun on me, Henry stands up, smacking the table in frustration.
“He had a gun on her?” he asks outraged with eyes huge and his eyebrows furrowed in anger. He turns to his dad. “And you didn’t tell me?!”
The President winces guiltily.
“It wasn’t loaded,” I say softly, removing my hand from Lyncoln’s knee to play with my hands.
“Still!” he says almost yelling, though to no one in particular. “The guy was all over her. Gave her a black eye. Do you not remember the bruises on her arms from just his fingertips? Just his fingers?” He turns toward Lyncoln. “And you? You were on board with this?”
“Hell no, I wasn’t on board,” Lyncoln snaps. “But, it was the best way. Jamie was there the whole time, and so were the snipers. If Grady or Samson so much as laid a finger on her that I didn’t like, someone was there.” He stares down Henry. “And she is quite capable of taking care of herself.”
So, this sniper thing is news to me, but I blush at Lyncoln’s possessive words and the way he defended me.
“Sorry, Reagan. I didn’t mean it like that. I know you aren’t just a helpless girl,” Henry says more softly, turning back to me.
“It’s okay,” I offer. “I am okay, and it is over and done with. None of us liked it, but it had to be done.”
“That’s what you meant in the letter?” he asks, searing me with his still somewhat angry emerald green eyes.
Lyncoln, who didn’t know about the letter until now, stiffens. I didn’t tell him not because I wanted to keep it a secret, but because I didn’t have time with everything else going on. I have barely seen him as is. I completely forgot about it. Whoops.
Trying not to wince, I nod to Henry, “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t blindsided when the news broke. I know you knew about Red Hawk but not Samson’s role in it.”
“Thanks,” he says and smiles at me though he still looks a little mad. “But next time, let’s keep you away from any and all guns, shall we?”
“Sounds good to me,” Lyncoln nods in agreement and looks at me questioningly, almost accusing, as if wanting to know why he didn’t know about the letter. He doesn’t ask, but I see his jaw clench in tension.
Greaaat.
I look to Taggert for help, before I have to bite off one or both of their heads.
“The team is only about a third of the way now,” Taggert continues, saving them from my wrath. “They are staying a solid mile behind Grady and Samson. And, of course, will intervene if they can’t find any food, water, shelter, or at least a fire tonight.”
“What approximate time will they make it to the watch camp?” the President asks, his forehead wrinkled with thirty years of responsibility. “Any update from your earlier projections?”
“We aren’t entirely sure of the timeframe, but we think sometime Sunday morning 0600 to 0900 hours at the current pace if the watch camp is still where we reconned it,” Taggert answers.
“This is a good plan. Not perfect, but well thought out,” the President nods to Taggert.
Taggert passes the nod to me, “Don’t thank me, it was Reagan and Samson who came up with it.”
“Seriously?” Henry asks surprised.
I shrug.
He rolls his eyes at Lyncoln and Lyncoln smirks saying, “Even better.”
“Isn’t that the truth,” Henry shakes his head and I don’t miss the quick look of jealousy and sadness that crosses his face. He covers it up fast though.
Next, we discuss the Hadenfelts. Henry is convinced Marisol’s dad beats her. If we could catch him on that, he would lose his job and go to jail for long enough for the Culling to be over. But since she has been paired with Henry and since he has been on suspension, he has been laying off. Henry keeps checking for bruises and the like, but she doesn’t feel comfortable telling him everything yet. He just knows she doesn’t like being alone with her father. I can’t say I blame her there.
Then it’s Jaden’s turn and he is jittery with nervous energy, fidgeting with his hands and glasses. “So, my team and I have been slowly getting Hadenfelt’s access out of certain areas, as we all know. And as of this afternoon, your rooms are all safe now, both video and audio. Now, what we have been working on with Taggert next is my new baby,” he stops to grin and push up his glasses. “We have been recording previous days’ audio, little things, meaningless conversations. Then, we replay them days later in chunks of time across all the different areas. So if he has around the clock, full monitoring, he is starting to miss huge chunks of things actually happening. And not just in a room or two, but everywhere.
“As you know, we started this in your rooms, but now we are doing it to his entire feed. We allowed him to listen in today to only part of the escape, nothing about Red Hawk’s true purpose. But, if we ever need it, I can now tap into his monitors as well as the monitors in the control room and play nonsense which can give us a window of Hadenfelt free time. No one will know but me, now us. Completely, wherever we want, Hadenfelt free time.” He grins as he finishes.
I exhale a breath of relief. Sounds lovely.
“That is amazing news. Well done, Jaden,” the President compliments him and he beams.
“I’m sure that wasn’t easy to do,” I say smiling at him. I know he has been working for Taggert non-stop. “Especially with everything you’ve been doing with Red Hawk and the voting.”
“No, and he has firewall after firewall on his personal laptop, but, when I see a challenge like that, I just can’t help myself,” he grins and pops one of his knuckles. “It was kind of fun, really.”
“So as for what will happen between now and next week,” Taggert begins, staying on task. It is already after midnight so I’m not mad. “Sunday we should know more and at the rate they are traveling now, the attack on their compound could be earlier than originally projected. Maybe Sunday afternoon. Ideally, everything will be dealt with and Grady and the team will have returned no later than Monday morning.”
“If so, I would like to personally meet with the team on Tuesday. Regardless of the results,” the President offers.
By “regardless of the results” he probably means if someone dies or not. Yikes.
Taggert nods. “I figure we need to meet Tuesday in addition to Thursday next week anyway. Jaden and his recent developments are slowly cutting Hadenfelt’s eyes and ears here yet making him think he still has all his power. With the team being out and everything going on, I want to make sure we are all on the same page, especially Henry because he is sometimes hard to get information to.”
The President nods. A time for the meeting is set, and we are all dismi
ssed. The President, Taggert, and Jaden leave first while Henry, Lyncoln, and I stay back.
Henry and Lyncoln talk about the recon for Red Hawk and about some things that I just simply don’t understand. I’m perfectly happy to sit there as they talk to one another though. When the other two stand, I also stand and reach to pick up my heels off the floor. I don’t think I will ever get used to wearing four-inch heels all the time, although with them on I look more like I belong with Lyncoln than when my five-foot two frame is level with his chest.
“Dude, I know she’s stunning, but can you stop checking out my fiancé while I’m trying to talk to you?” Lyncoln playfully scolds Henry, but I can hear the animosity there in his voice too.
I snap my eyes up at their exchange to find Henry’s eyes drinking me in. Lyncoln looks pissed about it since his jaw is clenched, but he doesn’t say anything other than what he already has, which pretty much got to the point.
“Sorry, man,” Henry winces guiltily and looks down, not denying it. “Great job today though, you guys will make it.” He slaps Lyncoln on the back. I’m not sure if it’s in support or apology.
“Lync, can you give Henry and me just two minutes? Wait for me before you go down though, please?” I ask and try with all my might to send him a look that tells him just how much I care about him.
He says goodbye to Henry and leaves swiftly. I know he’s super pissed now. Apparently my loving gaze at him didn’t get the message across.
“What’s up?” Henry asks, looking at me concerned and affectionately both.
“I loved your letter. I miss talking to you. We miss talking to you,” I begin.
“Why do I get the feeling there is a big ‘but’ coming?” he asks, knowing me well, rubbing a hand nervously from his honey colored hair at his temple down to his chin.
I shrug. “You have to stop looking at me like this,” I say softly. “You have to let go.”
“Seriously, Reagan?!” he snaps angry, his hands up in a gesture of frustration. “Seriously, Reagan?”
The Fracturing: Book 2 (The Culling Series) Page 25