Page 83 of Fighting for Brielle
“Like yours.”
“Like mine. But I can’t go back now.”
“Does it matter? You said you were never the badge, remember?”
“No, I… No, guess not.” Carson frowned at her.
“Well, they don’t like you, or me, either,” she commented.
“They’re jealous. I moved up the hierarchy pretty quickly. And you’re a newbie so that’s understandable. You’re also a cop. Makes you a target. So does your last name,” he informed her.
As they continued toward the communal showers, Brielle noticed modestly dressed women herding children?all equally as silent as the men.
“Carson, what are the women doing?”
“Preparing for their day. They cook all the meals, do the laundry, clean, and take care of the children too young to attend school and educate the older ones.”
“Those are their roles?” Brielle flung a scathing look at him. “Anderson just set women back a hundred years.”
“What do you think you’re going to be doing?” Carson tossed. “Peeling potatoes and working in the laundry room.”
They arrived at the communal showers which had two entrances. The one to the right led to the women’s stalls. Fortunately, they were empty at the moment, but Brielle didn’t care one way or the other. She’d lost her modesty years ago and didn’t mind taking a shower in front of other people. There wasn’t much water pressure, but she reveled in being able to thoroughly cleanse herself and wash her hair.
After she dressed, she asked Carson if she could have a blow-dryer, but he rolled his eyes and replied that they didn’t have any, and besides, it was a self-indulgent luxury.
“Where to now, Agent Carson from Texas?” Brielle threw at him on a hunch.
Carson’s eyes glazed over, and he stood frozen in shock. “Wh?what did you call me?”
“Agent Carson.”
He grabbed her arms, his gaze becoming fierce and locking onto hers. “Don’t ever call me that again, do you understand, Sergeant? Are you trying to get us both killed?”
“Are you an FBI agent?” she whispered.
Carson released her. “I?I don’t know what I am, except a lieutenant in Axel’s army.” Stepping away from her, he added, “Come on. Axel is expecting you.”
He didn’t speak to her again as he led her to Anderson’s living quarters.
Outside the entrance, Brielle said just one word. “Fight.”
It’s what she intended to do with every breath she took.
Carson remained silent, but she knew she’d rattled him by the paleness of his countenance.
The doors opened with a hiss, and Anderson drew Brielle forward. “Good morning.” He propelled her into the kitchen. “I’d like you to meet my wife, Lola.”
A stunning brunette dressed in navy slacks and a white blouse smiled at her. “Good morning, Miss McAdams. Axel told me about you. It’s an honor to meet the face of our glorious revolution. The face of our New America.”
Anderson pulled out a chair for her. “Sit down.”
Brielle complied and Lola set a huge chunk of bread and a bottle of water in front of her. She considered her meager breakfast. To remain physically fit and mentally alert she required protein, not useless carbs.
Her trial had begun.
Lola patted Brielle on the shoulder. “I’ll leave you two alone. I’ve got business to oversee.” She leaned down and shared a long, romantic kiss with her husband. “She’s got defiance in her,” she murmured in Axel’s ear.
He chuckled. “She won’t have it for long, Lola.”
