Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
So now, I wait.
But I decide to go back inside Collin’s house to do that, even though it feels a little strange to be alone in his personal space. I look up and around, wondering if there are cameras in here. Probably? I would assume, actually. But then again, he lives here with his wife or whatever she is. Women get funny about cameras, so I’m not sure. I don’t see any, but this operation isn’t called Edge because it’s behind the times. Whatever cameras Collin and company are using, it is highly likely that they’re nearly invisible.
Which means… eventually, he’s gonna see what Olive and I did in that guest room of his.
This makes me blow out a breath. But it’s done. There’s no take-backs. So I put these thoughts away for another time and walk down the hallway to check on Olive.
She’s asleep, but under the covers now. Which means at some point she woke up, put herself under those covers, and then went back to sleep.
What is going on with this girl?
And how does it involve me?
Because it most certainly does involve me. In some way, at least. It cannot be coincidence that I walked into that bar and she was the first person I met. It’s just not.
I haven’t thought about CORE much since everything went sideways. In fact, I put the whole thing out of my mind while I was in prison. I liked it there. I mean, eventually I’m sure I would’ve seen it for what it was. But for me it was a timeout. It was permission to think. To figure things out. To be left alone. To pick apart what I could remember and fit it in to what I already knew. To heal, if that’s possible. Five years was long enough to get my head right.
People have cell phones in lock-up. There’s internet, even if the prisoners aren’t always allowed to access it—the wireless is everywhere now. But it wasn’t in every corner of every space in the prison. It wasn’t like the SCIF with the vacuum feeling when the door closed. But it was better than being in a fuckin’ city where the electromagnetic waves are pretty much everywhere. There’s no way to get away from it and I’m kinda sensitive to those waves.
They bother me.
That’s why I was in Wyoming to begin with. At least I think it was. It’s hard to recall what it was like to be me back then. I was insane, I think. I’d been institutionalized twice for erratic behavior. But there’s no real will to keep the insane separate from the public these days, let alone the desire to get them some help. So I was let go after a seventy-two-hour hold both times.
But Wyoming is… empty.
And unless you’ve lived there, you can’t really imagine it. Probably Alaska is like that too. But Wyoming is just about the only real place you can go in the lower forty-eight where the wireless can’t really get a hold of you the way it does in crowded places.
I would not say I liked prison, but I needed it.
And this brings me back around to Olive, still sleeping in the bed. I think she needs some silence. So I close the door, go back outside, and sit on the steps.
I like her. I would like to help her, if I can.
And maybe get a second chance with her as well.
She comes off as vulnerable. Innocent. Which is a hard thing to pull off after begging an almost-stranger to literally choke an orgasm out of her.
It’s a deception. I know this. I know people like her. I know CORE. But even so, and knowing what I know, she still comes off in all these ways.
Which is dangerous.
I chuckle, looking around at all the even more dangerous men and their K9 partners. I guess, if you’re a young woman who’s been handled the way she has, this is definitely the place to be if you wanna get right with yourself and not be all alone in the process.
Every ten minutes or so I go inside to check on Olive, but each time she’s still sleeping so I come back out to the porch and wait, just watching all the activity on the compound. After what seems like hours, I finally see Collin making his way back to the house. Amon is with him and even from this distance I can tell they’re having a conversation, which is cut off as they approach me.
I stand up and let out a long breath as they come up the steps.
“How is she?” Collin nods his head towards the front door to indicate Olive.
“Sleeping,” I say. “I’ve checked on her every ten minutes or so since you left. I guess she’s tired.”
Collin nods, then looks at Amon, who holds up a medium-sized white envelope that has already been opened. “Let’s do it then,” Amon says, his drawl matching Collin’s almost perfectly. He pulls out a burner phone and powers it up as Collin and I lean in, trying to get a better look.