Read Online Conscience (The Bellator Saga Book 2) by Cecilia London - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Cecilia London
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you might need me.”
“I’ll be fine,” Caroline said. “I suspect we may come up to Philadelphia anyway. The girls want to see where Jack lives. Then I’ll only be a few miles down the road. Will that make you feel better?”
“I guess so. Does this mean I have to spend even more time with Jack?”
Caroline suppressed another laugh. Christine had a long way to go in her relationship with Representative McIntyre. “He has a big house. You can hang out in an entirely separate wing if you want.”
“Okay then.” Christine kissed Caroline’s cheek. “I’m very glad you’re in my life, Punky. The world is a much better place because of people like you.”
Caroline smiled. “I love you too, Chrissy.”
Chapter Six
The Fed
She woke up shivering. Where was her blanket? And that comforter she owned? After their chat, Christine ordered her to take a nap. Caroline, too tired to object, watched as Christine dragged the giant thing out of the closet. She then schlepped it onto the bed and all but tucked Caroline in, insisting that the air conditioning would make the room too cold for her to sleep. And to think Chrissy claimed to have no maternal instincts.
Caroline’s head hurt. Her face. Her ribs. Not her left arm. Her free hand slid to the side of the bed, then up to her face. She could feel the blood crusted on her cheek and in her nostrils. Her eyes flew open, and she struggled to adjust her vision. She soon realized it didn’t matter. All she saw was darkness. Was she blind? She lifted up her hand, waving it around. She could make out shadows in the pitch black. Was something else moving? Her mind was playing tricks on her.
Her hand was hanging at a weird angle from the metal bedframe. That guard – Fischer – had cuffed her to the bed. Fucking asshole. So it was dark, cold, and she was stuck. And she sure as hell wasn’t in that warm comfy bed in her house in Maryland. Fan-fucking-tastic.
That’s it . Keep your sense of humor.
She’d been in prison cells before. Visited local jails. Seen pictures. She couldn’t remember any mattresses that sat on bedframes. Where the fuck was she? It was a big risk to give a prisoner anything to fight back with. Anything not attached to the wall could be made into a weapon. Even a bedframe, if given the right amount of moxie and strength. Maybe they’d underestimated her. Or maybe they needed something to keep her immobile. It seemed impractical to add those extra steps to her incarceration, but maybe they weren’t all that pragmatic.
She lay in the dark, randomly flexing the hand in the cuff, trying to regain circulation. She had nothing else to do. Nothing to see. She took a few calming breaths. She hated the dark. Caroline laughed at herself when she scanned the room again.
Still nothing to see, you goof.
Maybe that’s what they wanted her to do. Keep talking to herself until she went batshit crazy. No. Her darting eyes could serve a purpose. She saw no cracks of light. No windows. She could swear she could make out bars on her cell door but if they were there, the hallway was dark too. Weird.
Now was not the time for a pity party. Now was the time to plot. Some entity, some person, some underground group – surely her presence here was known. Surely someone planned to get her out. She ignored the nagging thought in the back of her head, tried to block out the rumors she’d heard. She and Jack had been trying to outrun a gathering storm until it finally crashed down on them with unexpected fury. It still seemed unbelievable. Something like this could not be going on in the United States without some watchdog figuring it out and putting a stop to it.
Have you been living under a rock for the past year, sweetheart?
She closed her eyes. Jack called her that. She could almost hear him admonishing her in that charming but not quite condescending tone he used when he was messing with her. When Fischer used that word as anything other than a term of
“I’ll be fine,” Caroline said. “I suspect we may come up to Philadelphia anyway. The girls want to see where Jack lives. Then I’ll only be a few miles down the road. Will that make you feel better?”
“I guess so. Does this mean I have to spend even more time with Jack?”
Caroline suppressed another laugh. Christine had a long way to go in her relationship with Representative McIntyre. “He has a big house. You can hang out in an entirely separate wing if you want.”
“Okay then.” Christine kissed Caroline’s cheek. “I’m very glad you’re in my life, Punky. The world is a much better place because of people like you.”
Caroline smiled. “I love you too, Chrissy.”
Chapter Six
The Fed
She woke up shivering. Where was her blanket? And that comforter she owned? After their chat, Christine ordered her to take a nap. Caroline, too tired to object, watched as Christine dragged the giant thing out of the closet. She then schlepped it onto the bed and all but tucked Caroline in, insisting that the air conditioning would make the room too cold for her to sleep. And to think Chrissy claimed to have no maternal instincts.
Caroline’s head hurt. Her face. Her ribs. Not her left arm. Her free hand slid to the side of the bed, then up to her face. She could feel the blood crusted on her cheek and in her nostrils. Her eyes flew open, and she struggled to adjust her vision. She soon realized it didn’t matter. All she saw was darkness. Was she blind? She lifted up her hand, waving it around. She could make out shadows in the pitch black. Was something else moving? Her mind was playing tricks on her.
Her hand was hanging at a weird angle from the metal bedframe. That guard – Fischer – had cuffed her to the bed. Fucking asshole. So it was dark, cold, and she was stuck. And she sure as hell wasn’t in that warm comfy bed in her house in Maryland. Fan-fucking-tastic.
That’s it . Keep your sense of humor.
She’d been in prison cells before. Visited local jails. Seen pictures. She couldn’t remember any mattresses that sat on bedframes. Where the fuck was she? It was a big risk to give a prisoner anything to fight back with. Anything not attached to the wall could be made into a weapon. Even a bedframe, if given the right amount of moxie and strength. Maybe they’d underestimated her. Or maybe they needed something to keep her immobile. It seemed impractical to add those extra steps to her incarceration, but maybe they weren’t all that pragmatic.
She lay in the dark, randomly flexing the hand in the cuff, trying to regain circulation. She had nothing else to do. Nothing to see. She took a few calming breaths. She hated the dark. Caroline laughed at herself when she scanned the room again.
Still nothing to see, you goof.
Maybe that’s what they wanted her to do. Keep talking to herself until she went batshit crazy. No. Her darting eyes could serve a purpose. She saw no cracks of light. No windows. She could swear she could make out bars on her cell door but if they were there, the hallway was dark too. Weird.
Now was not the time for a pity party. Now was the time to plot. Some entity, some person, some underground group – surely her presence here was known. Surely someone planned to get her out. She ignored the nagging thought in the back of her head, tried to block out the rumors she’d heard. She and Jack had been trying to outrun a gathering storm until it finally crashed down on them with unexpected fury. It still seemed unbelievable. Something like this could not be going on in the United States without some watchdog figuring it out and putting a stop to it.
Have you been living under a rock for the past year, sweetheart?
She closed her eyes. Jack called her that. She could almost hear him admonishing her in that charming but not quite condescending tone he used when he was messing with her. When Fischer used that word as anything other than a term of
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