Page 10 of Wanted 3
He was willing to sell me out for his own benefit, was he? Well, Vlad would have something to say about that—when I could get out of here to tell him.
“So, that’s what she’s been up to,” my father belched. “Getting rich and letting her old man suffer.”
Where had all the ‘by the law’ crap gone now? Funny how his principles flew out the window the moment money was mentioned.
“You’ll tell me how to get inside that mansion.” My dad turned on the troll.
“You can’t just break in there,” the troll said with scowl. “The Count is not of this world. He’s to be feared.”
No shit. And just wait until he heard what was really happening.
“He’s nothing I can’t handle,” my dad bragged with a belligerent shrug.
I doubted that. Part of me was tempted to step out of my hiding place and egg my dad into coming at Vlad. It would be problem solved, then, but as dark as I was, I knew I never would. I didn’t want to directly cause his death. I’d settle for scaring him away, permanently, letting karma handle the rest. After all, the way he was going, there’d be a big boomerang of karma soon, judging by the law of statistics.
“It’s a deal then,” the bog troll grinned. It wasn’t a happy kind of grin, but a slimy one, the kind con artists wear when they’ve achieved their goal. “I’ll give you the power to enter his house, if you let me go.”
“Power?” My dad repeated, knitting his brows in confusion. “The security codes?”
Oh, Dad. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into.
“Power,” the bog troll nodded eagerly, as if that would hypnotize my dad into agreeing. “You want your son? I’ll give you a potion, you’ll get powerful. No one will stand in your way, then.”
“You don’t say,” My father belched, reaching for another beer.
“Guaranteed.”
“Deal, then. Let’s see what you got.”
“Let me go, first.”
That triggered my father into pressing the gun against the troll’s temple. “I’m not stupid. Give me the potion, first. I’ll not have you escape without holding your end of the bargain. Don warned me about you.”
The troll’s eyes narrowed into slits again. “A knife and a cup,” he spat. “We’ll make an even trade. I’ll hand you the cup and you’ll hand me the keys.” He held up his cuffed wrists and then pointed at the chain around his neck.
“Deal,” my dad agreed.
I stifled a snort. Why do criminals ever trust other criminals? I’ve never understood that. And anyone who’d believe a word out of my dad’s mouth was a fool.
“Here,” my dad said, tossing a penknife on the bed before retrieving a red plastic Solo cup from the floor that hadn’t made it into the overflowing trashcan. “Where’s this potion?”
The troll sniffed, but grabbed the knife, sliced his finger and squeezed a few drops of black blood into the cup.
A rancid stench filled the room.
“You want me to drink that shit?” My dad snorted when the creature held up the cup.
I gagged at the thought. But honestly, I didn't really care what they did. They could play their games, con each other, it didn’t matter. Karma would bite their asses, and if they showed up at my house looking to start shit, Vlad would bite more than that.
The sound of chains falling to the floor snapped my attention back to the present. They'd made the exchange, and my dad was apparently drunk enough to drink the foul-smelling blood. As I watched, he splashed a little beer into the cup, swished it around and brought it to his lips.
The troll huddled at the foot of the bed, twisting the key into the handcuff lock. He fumbled, his hands too large, and dropped the key. Swearing, he reached for it and tried again.
My father straightened and set the empty cup down on a pile of case files. “Interesting,” he said, his voice sounding unusually deep.
The troll grinned as the handcuffs finally fell away. He was off the bed and out the door in a flash.
And my dad, who moments ago could barely stand upright, now charged out of the room after him, quicker than I’d ever seen him move in my life.