Page 43 of Scarred Sins
“I’m sure it is,’’ I nod. “Should I call you my uncle? I haven’t seen you around since Jane was killed.’’
“Well,’’ he starts to regain his composure. “I’ve been very busy. It’s a very tragic thing that happened to my lovely Jane. Worry not, once I’m appointed the mayor, I’ll bring Jane justice.’’
“I don’t doubt it.’’
The cards are dealt in front of us, but he’s too far gone to think about the game. His hands twitch, almost trembling from time to time, holding the cards. It’s enough of an indicator that I at least got him to sweat a little.
He’s not afraid. Not yet, at least, but he’s cautious around me and very suspicious of me.
The game is silent whilst I watch him like a hawk. Both of my hands are on the table, and with a trouble to the edge of the poker table, I signal for Dad to follow the other politician.
He snuck out a minute ago through the back exit, and something about him is very odd. Dad doesn’t acknowledge my signal verbally; he just stands from the booth and heads toward the back exit.
Nelson stares at me, barely blinking, barely breathing.
His brows knit together, and I tilt my head to the side. It’s time for him to reveal his cards, and despite not having the opportunity to cheat his way to victory, he’s still arrogant enough to smirk at me.
“Flush,’’ he states, showing his cards.
In no time, I reveal mine, noticing the smirk falling off his face, eyes widening as anger flushes behind the lethal gaze he sends my way.
“Royal flush.’’
He laughs it off, but he’s pissed. He waves a waiter over, ordering another glass of alcohol. “Beginner’s luck,’’ he snorts. “Another one?”
“Not tonight,’’ I rose to my feet. “I have a gift for you.’’
I brought one of the copied recordings of the night Jane was murdered, with his voice clearly loud and recognizable. The USB is small, black, and definitely not the only copy. I have at least a dozen of them at different locations, just in case.
Easily, he catches the small device when I throw it at him, aiming for his head.
“I’ll see you around.’’
Tonight, his entire house is supposed to be empty. He sent his wife away, which left him alone and his home easily accessible. He wasn’t stupid enough to look through the USB device and listen to the recordings in public, which is why I had his entire house covered in cameras and little bugs.
Let the fucking games begin.
“Hi, Mama,’’ I grin, opening my arms for a hug. Instead, she flicks my forehead with a lot of strength, might I add, with an angry look on her face. She scans my entire body, head to toe, for any signs of injuries, before sighing in relief when she finds none.
“Do you understand how incredibly dangerous that was?” Her voice almost breaks, angry tears filling her eyes. “Don’t you dare ever act on your own again, do you understand me?”
Ah.
My eyes find Dad, who is whistling as he steps into the house, pressing a kiss on Mom’s forehead. He acts oblivious, but I know he sold me out. My own father sold me out to my already worrying mother.
Once Adams left the gambling pit, he went straight to a strip club. We weren’t planning on it, and the security is tight, so Dad had to settle for just following him around, waiting outside for him to finally appear.
Meanwhile, I focused on tailing his wife, Zoe. She was supposed to be locked up far away, yet there she was, partying in an enormous mansion, albeit an empty one, just at the outskirts of the city. It’s highly secured, with many people guarding the entrance and the gate.
Once my mother is calm enough to go to bed, I sneak out of their house and head to the mansion. Dad knows where I’m going, and he’ll follow me to help me escape later on.
It’s not too hard climbing over the fence at the back. Since Zoe’s whereabouts are strictly need-to-know, no one expects that she’d be looked for. Though, I did have to knock out two guards at the front door while the ones at the gate were occupied by laughing and talking.
I drag the two unconscious men inside and lock the front door.
With only a hat to cover my face, I noticed too many cameras covering the entire place. The bottom floor is empty, with no housekeepers in sight. The surprising aspect of the entire scenery is the state of the kitchen. Everything is tarnished, broken, unrepairable. Shattered glass, smashed tiles, junk lingering on the floor.
Quite frankly, not something one might expect of a politician’s mansion.
